Outside, the sky was a deluge; inside, the house followed suit.

Lin Xiaoxiao stood by the bed, her flashlight cutting through the gloom. She watched in dismay as Hua’an scrambled to place every pot, pan, and ceramic jar they owned across the mattress and floor. Within minutes, there wasn't a dry inch of space left to sleep.

"I should have patched the roof last autumn," Hua’an said, his voice laced with apology. "When it rains this hard, the tiles give way. You’ll have to make do in the outer room tonight. I’ll get up there and fix it as soon as the weather breaks."

Xiaoxiao looked at the cluttered bed, her mind drifting before she could catch it. "But your cot is so small... there’s no way we could both fit."

The words had barely left her lips when she felt her face go crimson. What on earth am I saying? she scolded herself. Thankful for the darkness, she hoped he couldn't see the sheer embarrassment written across her features.

Hua’an, seemingly oblivious to her slip, hesitated. "You take the cot. I’ll head over to the dorms."

Xiaoxiao clutched her bedding as she followed him into the parlor. She looked toward the window; the rain was a violent curtain, and the path to the headquarters was a long, unlit trek through the mud. It was the middle of the night, and she couldn't bear the thought of him trudging through that for her sake.

"Don't bother with the dorms," she said, her resolve hardening. "I’ll just sleep on the floor."

She dropped her blankets onto the cot and reached under the main bed for the straw mats. She’d seen them while cleaning—the original owner had kicked them under there, disgusted by their coarseness, but they were perfectly serviceable now.

Hua’an lit a candle, placing it atop the cupboard. Seeing her struggle with the mats, he stepped in to take them from her. "I’ll do it. You take the bed; I’ll take the floor."

"I can't let you do that," she countered. "You have to work tomorrow."

But Hua’an had already spread the mat and rolled out his own bedding. "The floor is cold, and I’m used to it," he said firmly. "Take the bed."

Knowing she wouldn't win, Xiaoxiao lay down. It was only then that the reality of the situation settled in: she was sharing a room with a man, and they were barely three feet apart. It was an intimacy she had never experienced.

The candlelight flickered weakly, the kettle on the stove let out a soft hiss, and the rain hammered against the glass. In the dark, every sound felt magnified. Even the faint orange glow of the candle seemed too bright. Though she was wrapped in her own blankets, the air felt thick with a scent that was uniquely his—clean, sharp, and oddly pleasant. She lay perfectly still, terrified that the slightest rustle of her sheets would disturb him.

I’m going crazy, she thought. I’ve dealt with far more than this, so why am I acting like a schoolgirl? Perhaps it was because in this strange, unfamiliar world, Hua’an was the only constant she had.

She lay there until her bones ached, finally risking a slow, quiet turn. In the shadows, she could see the silhouette of his profile, the sharp lines of his jaw blurred by the dim light. Suddenly, her throat felt parched.

She swallowed hard. "Hua’an? Are you awake?"

Silence.

She knew he was listening. "You said we’d go to the city in a few days. Which day, exactly?"

"Monday," came his clipped reply.

Wednesday to Monday. Four days. She could spend that time learning to knit with Hongmei and, more importantly, figuring out how a divorce would actually impact him. Then there was the matter of her—or rather, the original owner’s—parents. Facing people who had known her for twenty years was a daunting prospect. The thought of calling strangers "Mother" and "Father" made her head throb.

The rain showed no sign of letting up. It was a rare, relentless downpour for early spring.

Just as Xiaoxiao was drifting into a fitful sleep, she heard a stir from the floor. She opened her eyes to see Hua’an pulling on his heavy coat, heading for the door. She sat up, alert. "What’s wrong?"

"I heard a sound—something isn't right," he said, his words coming in a hurried blur. "Between the snowmelt and this rain, the slopes are unstable. Landslides are likely." Before she could respond, he was gone.

Xiaoxiao hurried to the door, watching his figure dissolve into the gray veil of the storm. A gust of wind sprayed rain across her face, sending a violent shiver through her. She retreated inside and shut the door.

By dawn, he still hadn't returned.

The rain had tapered off to a persistent drizzle. Xiaoxiao wondered if he had gone straight to work or if his fears of a landslide had come true. Realizing she didn't even own an umbrella, she ran through the rain toward the communal toilets at the southeast corner of the compound.

The "restroom" was a grim row of stalls with no partitions—a sight that would have horrified her yesterday, but today, she was too preoccupied to care. A line had already formed, and several women stood in the drizzle, trading news with grim faces.

"The landslide hit Jiang Village last night," one woman said. "The whole place is buried."

"It’s a tragedy," another added. "A few of us are heading over after breakfast to help."

"Count me in," a third chimed. "Dr. Xiao left first thing this morning."

Xiaoxiao’s heart sank. A whole village buried? She immediately began to worry about the logistics—was the rescue team equipped? Was there medical support? The city was hours away; the local clinics wouldn't have the supplies for major trauma.

Her professional instincts took over. She ran home, her mind racing with ways she could help. She had just finished washing her face and was pulling on a heavy coat when a young man she didn't recognize arrived at her door, breathless and pale.

"Ma'am! The Captain’s been hurt," he gasped. "They're moving him to the city hospital. I’ve been sent to get you."

Xiaoxiao’s world tilted. "Hurt? How bad is it?"

"I don't know. The car's at the gate. We have to hurry."

Xiaoxiao didn't hesitate. She grabbed every cent of her savings from the cupboard and followed the messenger, Song Kai, toward the entrance. A green Jeep was idling there, a stern-faced middle-aged man sitting in the passenger seat, his brow furrowed with worry.

During the drive, she learned the man was Zhong Zhiguo, Hua’an’s superior. He explained that Hua’an had been hit by a secondary collapse while rescuing a trapped villager. He’d been unconscious since they pulled him out.

Zhiguo glanced back and saw Xiaoxiao’s pale face, her eyes shimmering with what looked like unshed tears. I suppose she does care for him, he thought, softened by her distress.

He was mistaken. While Xiaoxiao was indeed sick with worry for Hua’an, her current misery was largely physical. The road to the city was a nightmare of potholes, and the vintage Jeep rode like a bucking bronco. With every jolt, she felt as though her internal organs were being shaken loose...

During the journey, Lin Xiaoxiao paid little attention to the scenery outside. Just as she felt she might collapse from exhaustion, they finally reached the hospital.

The city hospital had originally been built to house Soviet experts during the aid era and was repurposed after their departure. The Russian-style building still had its original wooden floors and staircases, now worn uneven with age.

Lin Xiaoxiao’s eyes swept curiously over their surroundings, lingering on the faded slogans still visible on the walls. She quickened her pace to keep up with Zhong Zhiguo and Song Kai as they headed toward the inpatient ward.

Zhou Huian had been placed in a private room, sparsely furnished with only the essentials: a rusted steel bed shedding flakes of paint, a small bedside table, and two wooden chairs—a stark, utilitarian space.

When Lin Xiaoxiao followed Zhong Zhiguo inside, she found Xiao Yan kneeling beside the bed, tenderly wiping Zhou Huian’s hands with a damp towel.

Zhong Zhiguo didn’t seem surprised—after all, Xiao Yan was also a doctor. “How is he?” he asked impatiently as he entered.

Xiao Yan started at the sound and rose quickly. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she met his gaze. “They say his lumbar spine and legs are injured. We won’t know if he’ll walk again until he wakes up.” She glanced toward Lin Xiaoxiao, her voice trembling. “This is my fault. Zhou Huian got hurt saving me.”

How convenient, Lin Xiaoxiao thought coldly. Thank goodness I’m not the original owner with feelings for him. Anyone else might mistake this performance for genuine concern.

Zhong Zhiguo frowned and moved closer to examine the unconscious Zhou Huian. “He’ll pull through. This kid’s tough—he’s survived minefields. This is nothing.” He turned to Lin Xiaoxiao as if seeking reassurance himself. “Xiaoxiao, don’t worry. Zhou Huian’s a fighter. He’ll be fine.”

Lin Xiaoxiao nodded solemnly. “I believe so too.”

After a brief silence, Zhong Zhiguo instructed, “The days ahead may be difficult. I’ll have Lyu bring you food coupons and money. If anything comes up, contact me immediately.”

Having arrived in the city on such short notice, Lin Xiaoxiao hadn’t thought to request anything. “That won’t be necessary. Taking care of him is my duty as his wife.”

After a few more words, Zhong Zhiguo left with Song Kai to consult Zhou Huian’s doctors.

Alone in the ward with Xiao Yan, Lin Xiaoxiao noticed the younger woman showed no intention of leaving. “Sister-in-law,” Xiao Yan said gently, “please let me help care for Brother Zhou. This injury is my responsibility, and as a doctor—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lin Xiaoxiao cut in with a derisive smile. “Besides, an unmarried woman tending to a married man? People might talk. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.”

Xiao Yan bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. “But I’m so worried—”

“I’m here. That’s enough.” Lin Xiaoxiao stepped toward the door, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Under that icy dismissal, Xiao Yan cast one last lingering look at Zhou Huian before finally withdrawing.

Weren’t we rescuing an injured comrade? Lin Xiaoxiao sighed inwardly. Since when did this turn into some romantic hero-saves-the-damsel story? If Zhou Huian were single, she’d probably be proposing by now.

Swallowing her distaste, she closed the door and approached the bed. Gently, she rolled Zhou Huian onto his stomach and lifted his shirt, revealing several abrasions and bloodstains. The surface injuries seemed minor but likely masked more serious bone fractures.

Her fingers traced the line of his waist, pausing over the crisscrossing scars that mapped his back—including a deep knife wound along his flank. She’d treated worse injuries, yet these marks struck her with unexpected force.

What kind of battles has this man endured? A pang of sympathy hit her. His family probably never knew.

Steadying herself, she carefully palpated Zhou Huian’s spine before removing his trousers. Her frown deepened.

According to decades of medical experience, his lumbar vertebrae are intact. How could anyone diagnose permanent paralysis from waist-down injuries while he’s still unconscious?

To be thorough, she rolled Zhou Huian onto his back and carefully examined his abdomen.

The more she pressed, the more alarmed she became. Without bothering to pull up Zhou Huian’s pants, she ran to find a doctor.

Zhong Zhiguo and Song Kai were still discussing Zhou Huian’s condition with the physician when Lin Xiaoxiao burst into the office. “Zhou Huian has internal bleeding! He needs surgery—now!”

The doctor, who had been speaking politely with Zhong Zhiguo, scowled. “Are you the doctor here, or am I?”

Ignoring him, Lin Xiaoxiao appealed to Zhong Zhiguo. “Sir, if Zhou Huian isn’t operated on immediately, he could die. If you doubt me, call an emergency consult with every senior physician in this hospital!”

The doctor slammed his fist on the desk and stood up. “Who do you think you are? If you’re so qualified, why don’t you perform the surgery yourself?”

Zhong Zhiguo’s brow furrowed. After a sharp glance at the doctor, he barked at Song Kai, “Move! Get him to the military hospital—now!”

As Song Kai raced out, the doctor scrambled to block Zhong Zhiguo. “You can’t do this! I’m his attending physician—this is reckless! If he dies en route, the responsibility will be on you!”

Zhong Zhiguo shoved past him. “Lin Xiaoxiao—let’s go! We’re leaving!”

At the military hospital—where both Zhong Zhiguo and Zhou Huian were well-known—Zhou was rushed straight into surgery.

Outside the operating room, Lin Xiaoxiao overheard the diagnosis: hemorrhagic shock due to a ruptured spleen. The full severity was still unclear, but the surgeon noted that their timely arrival had likely prevented irreversible shock.

She sighed in relief but frowned. How could any hospital miss this? And why was he taken to the city hospital first when the military facility was only two kilometers away?

Zhong Zhiguo’s shoulders sagged as the near-disaster dawned on him. “We owe you his life. Thank you.”

Lin Xiaoxiao shook her head. “I was just doing what was right. But why wasn’t he brought here initially? That city hospital’s incompetence is staggering. Are there no competent physicians during daylight hours? How does someone so unqualified become a staff doctor? Even for a remote facility, this is unacceptable.”