III
That morning, Lu Shiyan continued farming.
Today's task was fertilizing the vegetable patch.
Su Tang had somehow obtained a bucket of organic fertilizer—black and gooey, emitting an indescribable odor.
"What is this?" Lu Shiyan asked, covering his nose.
"Organic fertilizer, all-natural." Su Tang said without flinching. "Uncle Wang fermented it from kitchen scraps. Totally eco-friendly."
"Kitchen scraps?"
"Leftovers, fruit peels, vegetable leaves, that sort of thing. After fermentation, it makes the best fertilizer."
Lu Shiyan looked at the black bucket and felt his stomach churn.
"You want me to use this?"
"Yes. Just grab a handful and spread it around the base of the seedlings."
"With my hands?"
"With your hands." Su Tang demonstrated—she grabbed a handful of the fertilizer and evenly spread it around the tomato seedlings, her movements as practiced as if she were scattering flower petals.
Lu Shiyan looked at her hands and hesitated for three seconds.
"Any gloves?"
"No. You have to feel the soil with your hands to connect with it."
Lu Shiyan took a deep breath, squatted down, reached into the bucket, and grabbed a handful.
The texture was sticky, warm. The smell… he held his breath and spread it around the base of the seedlings.
Then he quickly pulled his hand back and wiped it on his clothes.
Su Tang noticed and handed him a towel.
"Wipe your hands. Everyone's like this the first time. You'll get used to it."
Lu Shiyan took the towel and wiped his hands. "What did it feel like, your first time fertilizing?"
"Like throwing up," Su Tang admitted honestly. "But I told myself I was doing it for the patients. No matter how gross, I had to endure."
"And now?"
"Used to it." She smiled. "Besides, seeing the seedlings grow taller day by day is really rewarding."
Lu Shiyan looked at the green seedlings and was quiet for a moment.
"When will they bear fruit?"
"Tomatoes take about two to three months. Cucumbers are faster—about a month and you can eat them."
"A month?" Lu Shiyan frowned. "That long?"
"That's how farming is. Can't rush it." Su Tang squatted beside him, looking at the seedlings. "You have to wait for them to grow slowly. Can't push, can't rush. Like treating insomnia. Don't expect it to get better in one day. Take it slow."
Lu Shiyan didn't reply and continued fertilizing.
This time, he didn't hold his breath.
Even though the smell was still awful, he tried to accept it.
Like accepting everything here—the rundown buildings, the eccentric patients, the unconventional treatments.
Strangely, when he stopped resisting, none of it seemed so unbearable anymore.
IV
At lunch, Lu Shiyan's phone rang.
It was Qin Lang.
He glanced at the screen and didn't answer.
The phone rang for a long time before finally stopping.
A few seconds later, a WeChat message popped up: "Mr. Lu, there's trouble at the company. Director Wang is making a play for control. What should…"
Lu Shiyan read the message, expressionless, then turned his phone face down.
Director Wang, his uncle, the second largest shareholder.
Ever since his father passed away, this uncle had been coveting the chairman position. Before, when Lu Shiyan was doing well, he hadn't dared to make a move. Now that Lu Shiyan was "resting for health reasons," he could no longer contain himself.
Su Tang noticed his movement but didn't ask.
She just placed an extra bowl of soup in front of him.
"Have some soup," she said. "Winter melon and pork rib soup. Good for clearing heat."
Lu Shiyan looked at her, picked up the bowl, and took a sip.
The soup was light, the winter melon soft and tender, the fragrance of the pork ribs infused throughout.
"Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome." Su Tang smiled. She didn't ask why he didn't answer the phone, didn't ask what had happened.
This sense of appropriate distance made Lu Shiyan feel comfortable.
Unlike others, she didn't pry, didn't offer fake sympathy, didn't try to fish for information.
She just, when he needed it, placed a bowl of soup in front of him.
That was enough.
V
At 2 PM, Su Tang came to take Lu Shiyan to the "special activity."
"Come on, I'll take you somewhere nice."
Lu Shiyan followed her out of the hospital, through a small alley, to a place he'd never been before.
It was a studio.
Not large, but cozy. The walls were covered with paintings—watercolors, oils, sketches—all different styles, but all sharing one thing: vibrant colors, full of life.
"This is your studio?" Lu Shiyan asked.
"Yes." Su Tang pushed open the door. "I come here to paint when I have time. I wanted to show you."
Lu Shiyan walked in and looked around.
In the corner of the studio was an easel with an unfinished painting on it. It depicted the hospital's backyard—the vegetable patch, the patients, Uncle Wang's radio.
It was very vivid, especially the radio, which seemed like you could almost hear it playing.
"You paint well," Lu Shiyan said.
"Thank you." Su Tang walked over and took the painting down. "This one's not finished. Something's missing."
"What?"
"I don't know." She shook her head. "Maybe it's missing the right person."
Lu Shiyan looked at the painting and didn't speak.
Su Tang set it aside and put a blank sheet of paper on the easel.
"Today, let's paint something different." She took out two brushes and handed one to Lu Shiyan. "You paint one stroke, I paint one stroke. Together, we'll complete a painting."
"I can't paint."
"That's okay. Just paint anything."
Lu Shiyan took the brush, hesitated, then drew a line on the paper.
A straight line, perfectly straight.
Su Tang took the brush and drew a curved line next to his straight line.
Then she handed the brush back.
Lu Shiyan thought for a moment, then drew a square next to the curved line.
Su Tang drew a triangle on top of the square.
Lu Shiyan drew a circle next to the triangle.
Su Tang drew several radiating lines inside the circle, turning it into a sun.
Lu Shiyan looked at the sun, paused, then drew a little figure beneath it.
The little figure was ugly—head too big, body too small, arms and legs like matchsticks.
But when Su Tang saw it, she smiled.
"Is that me?" She pointed at the little figure.
"No," Lu Shiyan denied.
"Then it's me." Su Tang was certain. "Look, such a big head. Must be me, because I'm so smart."
The corner of Lu Shiyan's mouth moved.
Su Tang picked up the brush and drew another little figure next to the first. This one was taller, thinner, with a cold expression—clearly Lu Shiyan.
"This is you," she said.
"I don't look good," Lu Shiyan said.
"But it looks like you." Su Tang smiled. "Cold, keeping everyone at a distance."
Lu Shiyan looked at the two little figures standing side by side, silent for a long time.
"What's missing from this painting?" he asked suddenly.
Su Tang thought for a moment. "A background."
"Paint it."
Su Tang picked up her brush and drew a vegetable patch beneath the two little figures. Above them, she painted a blue sky with a few white clouds floating by.
"Done," she said, putting down the brush. "This painting is called 'Two People Growing Vegetables.'"
Lu Shiyan looked at the painting, and the corner of his mouth moved again.
This time, he didn't deny that he was smiling.