The inpatient ward of Sixth Hospital carried a faint scent of antiseptic and medical equipment.

I hated that smell.

It always brought back memories of my parents from my previous life.

They weren’t highly educated—just like countless ordinary parents in this world, quiet yet profoundly great.

But a sudden car accident tore us apart forever.

Back then, in a local hospital, I saw them for the last time.

Blood. The cold bed frame. Blinding fluorescent lights. That was my whole world.

I hoped no one I loved—or who loved me—would ever have to step into a place soaked in this sterile scent.

Especially…

At the elevator, I glanced at the floor directory:

First floor—cafeteria, ER, injection and infusion zones.

Second floor—oncology, ICU, stem cell transplant unit.

Third floor—delivery room, operating theaters…

Seeing the family elevator stuck on 3F, I turned toward the stairwell.

On the second floor, I quickly found Room 441.

Fresh after dinner, the hallway buzzed with visiting relatives.

Unruly kids played phones, sweat dripping down their faces.

Makeshift cots lined the corridor, patients lying on them with haggard expressions.

Room 441’s door was slightly ajar. Inside, four beds surrounded by fruit and daily items. One bed swarmed with people—parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents.

Through the crowd, a boy around ten lay on the bed.

"Sweetie, don’t worry. After surgery, we go home, okay?"

"It’s nothing! Just a quick shot. You’ll wake up fine."

"At home, Mom’ll watch *Hongmao Lan Tu: Seven Swords Unite* with you again. You love Black Tiger, right? You always said he’d win Blue Rabbit’s heart…"

No one noticed me enter.

My gaze settled on the bed near the bathroom.

An elderly man lay pale-faced. Beside him, a middle-aged man around forty had his face buried in the blanket, fast asleep.

I stood quietly, confirming—it was Grandpa from my memories.

Both slept deeply, untouched by the room’s noise.

Behind the sleeping man, my eyes caught a worn smartphone.

I tapped its screen.

A lockscreen photo appeared: five of us—Dad, Mom, me, Grandpa, Grandma.

Background: the old mud-brick house where Mom and Grandma lived for decades, gray-tiled roof, a pigpen with chickens and pigs faintly visible.

Mom looked young. Grandma stood tall. Dad glowed with sunshine. Grandpa beamed.

And me—tanned from planting rice with Grandma, gathering wild greens with Mom, short-haired, the very picture of a "tomboy."

But I was smiling brightly.

Dad had asked the village chief—a Taoist priest skilled in strange "arts"—to take this when I was four. I once saw him chant melodic rites while striking odd instruments; *ding-ding-dang-dang* echoes filled half the village.

"…"

In the bustling ward, I pulled back, dialed the number "Dad" had called from.

*Beep…*

The phone lit up, ringing with a tune I knew too well:

"Machine bell, chopping knife—you pick this one…"

"The chosen one’s already gone home…"

The middle-aged man jolted awake. "Mmm…?"

He fumbled for the phone.

I pressed speaker on my own.

"Hello? Xiao… Is it Xiao Xue?" Dad’s voice rang clear.

"Huh?"

He turned. Saw me.

"Xiao… Xiao Xue? You…"

I hung up, facing the bed. "What’s wrong with Grandpa?"

"Liver…" He froze, then shook his head. "Advanced stage."

"From smoking?"

I remembered: Grandpa loved smoking homemade tobacco, gambling chess with elders, sneaking liquor from banquets, stumbling home drunk. We rarely connected. My bond with him felt distant.

Mostly, I recalled playing pebble games alone in the yard—tossing, catching—while he sat behind sipping baijiu, silent, watching. Like he’d been ordered: "Just keep Xiao Xue safe."

Sometimes he’d play the radio. Always *Machine Bell, Chopping Knife*—Dad’s current ringtone.

*"How many deceive for a shred of dignity?

How many live under others’ thumbs for pride?

How many endure shame just to feed their families…"*

The first song I ever sang. I never understood the words.

"Yeah. Smoked and drank too hard," "Dad" sighed. "He wasn’t always like this. During the flood… not enough raft space. Grandma shoved him on. When rescuers returned… she was already… He’s carried guilt ever since. Feels he stole her spot."

"Grandma?"

"His wife back then?"

"Xiao Xue, you’ve grown," he murmured, reaching out.

Under the ward’s pale light, his calloused hand stopped ten centimeters from my face.

"You’re beautiful."

His eyes flickered. He withdrew it. "You… must be eighteen?"

"No. Birthday’s still over a month away." I glanced at Grandpa’s closed eyes. "Can I still call you Dad?"

"Huh?" He blinked, then smiled warmly. "Of course! Absolutely!"

"What did the doctors say?" I unzipped my backpack, pulled out apples bought en route. "Treatment plan?"

"Palliative. It’s spread." He pointed to takeout on the bedside table. "He hasn’t eaten in two days. Keeps demanding discharge."

"Didn’t tell Mom?"

"Only asked for your number." He nodded at Grandpa. "Said… before he goes, he wanted to see you once."

"Don’t say that." I gently moved past him, sat by the bed. "Grandpa? Grandpa?"

"Dad, look—Xiao Xue’s here!" Dad shook his shoulder. "She’s all grown! Open your eyes!"

*Cough… cough…*

Grandpa’s eyes fluttered open.

"Xiao… Xiao Xue?"

Recognition flooded his face. A hint of color returned. His body trembled slightly. "You… really came? Is it you?"

His eyes widened. "Almost didn’t know you… Only this face holds a trace of childhood…"

"Dad, girls change!" Dad chuckled. "She’s so pretty, suitors’ll line up from East District to West! You gotta stay strong—help me hold my grandbaby someday!"

A flicker lit Grandpa’s eyes, then faded. "Shuang Yue?"

"She… can’t come. Already took leave once this month. Another absence means no pay."

"I see." Grandpa sighed deeply. "These ten years… too hard."

"Let me feed you." I unwrapped the takeout. "You must eat something."

"No… no…" He shook his head weakly. "This old bones… no need to treat. Zhi Zhe’s spent too much already. Let me go home… see your grandma sooner…"

"If you don’t eat, I’m leaving." I set down the chopsticks, feigning anger.

"Dad!" Dad urged gently. "Don’t stubborn with Xiao Xue! She’s in college, took time off just for you. Mom’d scold you dead if she knew!"

"Uh…" Grandpa hesitated. "Well… alright."

"Eat first." I picked up the spoon.

"After you finish, I’ll go tell Grandma. She lives nearby."