My Wife Is A Miracle Doctor In The 80s Chapter 4: Quarrel
Previously on My Wife Is A Miracle Doctor In The 80s...
A sudden breeze swept through the air, sending fallen leaves swirling into a frantic dance.
Between the dawn and the dusk, within the boundaries of life and beyond them.
The soul continues to long…
The horizon was stained a deep scarlet by the dying sun before fading into a bruised crimson.
Tang Yuxin was jolted awake by the sounds of a fierce argument.
She blinked her eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling where patches of plaster had crumbled away. It was a sight buried deep in her past, so ancient that the memory had nearly vanished from her mind.
The only place she remembered having such peeling walls was her childhood home, her father's house. She hadn't stepped foot back there since the day she departed. While many of her memories had eroded over the years, she could never forget this specific ceiling or the rusted fan hanging from it, thick with layers of grime.
“Tang Zhinian, I’m telling you now, why on earth would I leave my daughter with you?” a woman shrieked. Her rage seemed to vibrate through the building, causing another flake of dry plaster to drift down from the wall.
“Tang Zhinian, I am taking Xinxin with me. You are a grown man who can barely provide for himself. How do you expect to raise a child?”
“I won't let you,” the simple farmer replied. He was huddled on the floor, his eyes bloodshot and his face haggard, shadowed by dark, heavy circles.
“I cannot give Xinxin to you. She is the only thing I have left in this world.”
“That isn't your decision to make,” the woman sneered. “She is my flesh and blood, and she has always been closer to me. We will let her choose. Once she wakes up, we’ll ask her exactly who she wants to live with.”
The man fell silent, though the sound of him stifling a sob was audible.
He shed no tears; it seemed he had forced them all back down.
Tang Yuxin lay there, listening to the relentless bickering outside. She remained motionless, staring at the ceiling for an eternity, before her eyelids fluttered shut again. She couldn't tell if she was drifting back to sleep or if she had finally succumbed to death.
When she opened her eyes once more, the sunlight streaming through the cracked windowpane felt warm against her skin.
Her death had occurred in an autumn that felt more frigid than the harshest winter, yet the air now carried the gentle breath of spring.
“Yuxin, it’s time for breakfast.”
A man entered the room carrying a bowl. He was a young, honest-looking man with sun-darkened skin and clothes that had been faded by countless washings. His large, calloused hands—looking like broad palm leaves—carefully balanced the small dish.
The man gave her a grin that was both simple and filled with deep devotion.
Setting the bowl down in front of Tang Yuxin, he reached out to affectionately muss her hair. “Eat up, and after that, your dad will take you down to the water to go fishing, alright?”
Tang Yuxin watched him for a long moment. She tried to reach out to him, but she was shocked to see how pitifully small her hands were. She spent a long time staring at her own tiny palms, unable to move.
“What’s wrong? Not hungry?” the man asked, gently stroking her head again. “Just tell me what you’re craving. Your dad will cook whatever you want. Oh, don't we still have some eggs? My dear Yuxin, how about some steamed eggs? Dad will go whip some up for you right now.”