FYM CH10: The Bedsheet and Quilt Cover Need Changing

Hospital.

Cheng Ye half-reclined on the hospital bed, an IV drip hanging from his left hand while he held a borrowed phone in his right. He typed in the number he knew by heart, hesitating before sending a short message.

[It’s me, Cheng Ye.]

He thought it would take a while for the other side to reply. To his surprise, less than a minute later a reply came back.

[?]

Seeing that lone “?”, Cheng Ye smiled.

He glanced at the IV bottle that was still more than half full, propped up his leg, and dialed a call.

The person on the other end seemed caught off guard by the sudden call. After a long pause, they finally picked up.

Jiang Shi’s voice came through faint and distorted over the receiver. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Cheng Ye said.

Of course, Jiang Shi knew it was him. He looked at his roommate—who was still making his bed—then stepped out of the dorm with the phone in hand.

At this hour the corridor outside was nearly empty, only a few boys carrying washbasins toward the water room at the far end.

Leaning against the dingy wall, Jiang Shi asked, “Why are you calling me? Wait—where’d you even get a phone?”

“Borrowed it,” Cheng Ye replied, his voice calm and low as always. “Just wanted to ask how school’s been.”

Jiang Shi thought to himself—since when were we close enough for that?

But Cheng Ye asked it so naturally, so casually, that the thought only flickered in Jiang Shi’s head for a second before being swept away by Cheng Ye’s lead.

“It’s fine, I guess…” Jiang Shi kicked at the wall corner. From one side came the playful racket of boys in the water room, from the other side came the steady sound of Cheng Ye’s breathing.

The restlessness he’d carried all day from moving into a new place suddenly began to settle down.

Cheng Ye asked, “Did Auntie Jiang bring you here? Which class did they put you in? Anyone picking on you?”

“You’re more nagging than my mom,” Jiang Shi muttered.

Cheng Ye fell silent then, quietly waiting.

Awkward, Jiang Shi eventually added, “This school’s so small and run-down, it’s irritating. Seven or eight people crammed in one room, not even a toilet…”

He spotted a pen someone had dropped in the hallway, and ground it under his toe absentmindedly as he complained. His tone was sharp with dissatisfaction, but the tiny crease in his brow carried a dependence he didn’t even notice himself.

Cheng Ye listened to him complain—from the environment, to the teachers, to the classmates—until the mention of a roommate making his bed made Cheng Ye’s expression shift.

“You let someone else make your bed for you?”

“Of course,” Jiang Shi said as if it were obvious. “What else? I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know, so you just let him do it?”

“…”

“Cheng Ye, if you’re sick you’d better go get treated.”

“…”

“I get leave this weekend. I’ll come see you,” Cheng Ye said.

Jiang Shi didn’t understand why he would. They weren’t even that close.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Cheng Ye spoke again first. “The roasted chicken here is really good. The boss slow-roasts it over a low fire. By the end, the skin is crispy, the meat tender, even the bones are soft. I’ll bring one for you to try.”

The rejection Jiang Shi had been ready to give turned into a swallow of saliva instead.

“…Oh.” He answered dryly, then felt it sounded rude, so he added, “Then… be careful on the way.”

Cheng Ye laughed softly.

Even after hanging up, the smile lingered on his brows.

A man in his thirties came in with a lunchbox. Seeing Cheng Ye smiling, he was a little surprised. “So happy—were you talking to family?”

“…Sort of.” Cheng Ye quickly deleted the texts and call record with Jiang Shi before handing the phone back. “Thanks, Brother Wang.”

Wang Gang took it. “Thank me? I should be thanking you. If not for you, I’d probably already be dead.”

He set up the little table by the bed and opened the thermos. “My wife just bought pig trotters this morning, made soup. Eat while it’s hot.”

Cheng Ye lowered his head and began to eat.

He’d lost a lot of weight lately. Though still tall, the hospital gown hung loose on him. He hadn’t fully buttoned it, and when he bent forward, the fabric gaped enough to reveal taut honey-colored muscles and the bandages wrapped across his chest.

There were four or five beds in the ward. It was mealtime, and families crowded around the other beds with chatter and warmth. Only Cheng Ye’s bed stood in stark contrast—quiet and solitary.

Wang Gang lit a cigarette at the foot of the bed, thin yellowed fingers holding it, coal-dust-stained shoes leaving dark smudges on the floor.

“Cheng Ye…” he hesitated, “did you tell your family about this?”

The boy’s black eyes lifted to meet his. Clearly only seventeen, but Wang Gang felt a shiver under that gaze.

His hand trembled, scattering ash onto the blanket before he quickly flicked it away. “I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just—you’re still young, and something like this… you should let your family know.”

After all, Cheng Ye had been injured saving him. Even if Cheng Ye himself said nothing now, if his family found out later, they might demand an explanation.

Cheng Ye spooned another bite into his mouth. “No family. It’s just me.”

Wang Gang froze. “…But just now you said—”

“That was my…” Cheng Ye swallowed the overly salty meat with a blank face. “…That was my friend.”

Then he asked, “What did the company say?”

Wang Gang sighed. “Our team leader asked around. Said they’d try to get you some compensation. But you know how it is—injuries happen at the mine every day. It’ll be hard.”

He added quickly, “Don’t worry. You got hurt saving me. I’ll cover your medical bills, that’s a promise. It’s just… you know my situation. Three kids in school, my wife can’t do heavy work, and the whole family depends on me. Beyond the hospital, we really can’t manage more…”

Cheng Ye pressed the call button, face unreadable. To him, Wang Gang’s long speech might as well have had nothing to do with him.

A nurse came quickly. He extended his hand so she could remove the needle, then asked, “How long until I can be discharged?”

“Depends on your recovery. If you heal quickly, maybe four or five days.”

It was only Monday. Four or five days would still be in time.

After Wang Gang packed up the empty dishes and left—saying his wife would come deliver food tomorrow—Cheng Ye went to the bathroom.

The hospital restroom reeked of urine and smoke.

After using it, he washed his hands, then leaned against the door, undoing his gown buttons. Bandages wrapped several times around his waist; beneath them, a nearly ten-centimeter stitched scar sprawled like a centipede.

His lips were pale, his breathing shallow and painful. Only replaying those ten minutes of conversation with Jiang Shi in his mind eased it a little.

---

Jiang Shi thought Cheng Ye meant Saturday when he said “weekend.” He didn’t expect to see him Friday afternoon, right after class, at the school’s front gate.

The boy wore the same clothes as when Jiang Shi first met him. His shirt and pants still fell short at the sleeves and hems, but now they looked loose on his thinner frame. He stood there in the light, bags in hand, silent.

The moment Jiang Shi came down the stairs, Cheng Ye raised his eyes, gaze locking onto him. But he said nothing, just stood waiting for Jiang Shi to notice him.

Jiang Shi was chatting with his roommates when he stepped off the second-floor landing. A tug pulled at his heart, and he looked ahead.

The sunset outlined the distant mountains in warm orange, plum blossoms in full bloom at the intersection. Cheng Ye, keeping his word, had come to see him.

As Jiang Shi stepped forward, Cheng Ye moved too, meeting him at the stair’s base, tilting his head up.

“Jiang Shi.”

Jiang Shi, dressed in the black-and-white uniform of No.1 High, looked tall and clean against the fading light. It seemed to favor him, refusing to fall too harshly across his face.

When Cheng Ye drew close, his tall figure blocked the glow, casting Jiang Shi into shadow.

“How’d you get in?” Jiang Shi asked.

“The guard knows me. He let me in,” Cheng Ye replied, shifting a step to shield Jiang Shi from the crowd passing by. He lifted the bags slightly. “I brought you something. Can I go to your dorm?”

There was nothing particularly private in the dorm, so Jiang Shi didn’t think much of it. “I’ll ask my roommates first.”

He turned to them. “I’m taking him to the dorm for a bit—you guys okay with that?”

Under Cheng Ye’s cool, sharp gaze, the boys shook their heads like rattles. The one who’d helped Jiang Shi with his bedding stared a bit too long, then blurted, “Isn’t he Cheng Ye from Class One?”

Cheng Ye said nothing, so Jiang Shi had to answer, “I… think so? Not really sure.”

“You two know each other?”

“Not really,” Jiang Shi replied. “We’re from the same village.”

Not really knowing him, yet Cheng Ye had just called his name.

Jiang Shi glanced up at him.

“Are you going home tomorrow?” Cheng Ye asked.

This high school had no classes on weekends. After a week on the hard dorm bed, Jiang Shi dearly missed the soft one his sister Jiang Xue had made for him.

“Yeah. Nothing to do here anyway,” he said.

Cheng Ye pulled out a cup of double-skin milk pudding from his bag and handed it over. “Got this at the gate. For you.”

With so many people around, Jiang Shi felt embarrassed accepting such a sweet dessert.

“I don’t want it.”

“Mango flavor.”

“I don’t care what flavor.”

“It won’t taste good cold.”

“Cheng Ye, are you dense? I said I don’t want it!”

“…Sorry.”

“Sorry, sorry—is that all you know how to say?”

“I had them add extra mango,” Cheng Ye murmured.

“…”

Jiang Shi kicked him in the shin.

So his roommates watched as this supposedly “not-so-close” villager followed Jiang Shi with a dusty shoeprint on his pant leg, while Jiang Shi himself angrily stuffed spoonfuls of pudding into his mouth.

Eating Cheng Ye’s food, yet still scolding him.

“I said I didn’t want it. What if people make fun of me? That’d be your fault!”

His brows and eyes carried a brightness even he didn’t realize.

“Why would anyone laugh at you for eating what you like?” Cheng Ye asked honestly.

“I never said I like it!” Jiang Shi snapped, spoon between his teeth.

“You clearly do,” Cheng Ye said. “You’ve already eaten half.”

Jiang Shi nearly upended the dessert over his head.

Like that, they reached the dorm. Cheng Ye set the bags on the table and pulled out a brand-new bedding set.

Jiang Shi: “…”

He was stunned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s been a week,” Cheng Ye said. “The bedsheet and quilt cover need changing.”