Heading for the Plains - Chapter 44

It was during the morning that Ping Yuan suddenly felt unwell.

At first, she didn’t pay it much mind. A quick trip to the restroom confirmed her period had started, and she let out a silent breath of relief.

Just normal hormonal fluctuations for an adult woman. This conclusion actually made her feel more at ease; “the menstrual cycle” is a common and comforting explanation for modern people. It seemed to retroactively erase the recent cold, her emotional volatility, and the “absurdity” of the previous night as nothing more than PMS.

She returned to her office, poured a glass of water, opened her drawer, and took a sustained-release painkiller capsule.

She always kept a well-stocked supply of medicine—a habit born from a childhood spent in and out of hospitals. The veterans at the company knew that if they had a headache or a fever and the communal first-aid kit was empty, they could go to Manager Sierra. She could always expressionlessly fish out a packet of Ganmaoling or Ibuprofen for them.

Of course, not everyone had the courage to ask.

Whether it was a psychological effect or not, she felt better almost immediately after taking the pill.

There was another meeting scheduled. Amy appeared at her office door, peeking in. Seeing the medicine in Ping Yuan’s hand, a look of understanding crossed her face.

“Sierra,” she asked with concern. New graduates could never break the habit of adding “Sister” to names, but she bit it back this time, “if you’re not feeling well, do you want to take a half-day of menstrual leave to rest?”

Ping Yuan simply shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Amy immediately looked disapproving. The “newborn calf” didn’t fear the tiger. Since that rainy day, she felt much closer to Ping Yuan, even finding the courage to manage her leader’s schedule.

Ping Yuan gave her a helpless look and said only one thing: “We have a presentation at the client’s office this afternoon.”

She watched the girl’s expression oscillate between a guilty conscience and the “what will I do without Mom” panic. It was almost funny.

“It’s okay,” Ping Yuan reassured her seriously this time. “Just cramps. I’ll wait for the medicine to kick in. Let’s go to the meeting.”

But something went wrong during the meeting.

Ping Yuan fainted.

She went down right in the middle of her speech. She was presiding over the meeting, and everything had seemed calm before she took the stage. The dull ache in her lower abdomen had even subsided. She had just begun to feel grateful that the capsule was finally working when, five minutes in, a wave of agonizing pain struck.

Cold sweat broke out instantly.

In that moment, Ping Yuan tried to endure it. Just ten seconds, enough to say a graceful “pardon me, I’m not feeling well” before stepping down to find help. But the moment she tried to grit her teeth, she realized she had underestimated the power of this pain.

A violent wave of nausea hit her stomach. She lunged for the edge of the table, her vision blurring.

The next second was a chorus of screams from her colleagues. She collapsed to the floor, her MacBook crashing down with her as the data cable snagged. Amy seemed to react the fastest, rushing over to catch her, shouting repeatedly, “120! Call 120! Ping Yuan! Ping Yuan! Are you okay?!”

But Ping Yuan no longer had the strength to answer.

Darn it.

In the second before she lost consciousness, she actually thought: If these are my last words, carving profanity onto a tombstone would be far too funny.

Whether facing life’s messes with such optimism was a skill, who could say?

Amy held her, still screaming, but the loud voice drifted further away in her consciousness. In the final instant, it felt as though the blood in her body had turned cold. Her head tilted to the side, and she blacked out completely.

*****

The phone rang piercingly.

When Xia Chao heard it, she thought it was just another damn scam call. She couldn’t be blamed; she was currently up to her neck in work. Since the police incident, the milk tea shop’s orders had exploded. During peak hours, she barely had time to breathe.

Because answering a call meant having to re-wash her hands, she almost considered ignoring it.

But she didn’t. The old phone Xia Ling had used had a default ringtone that was both relentless and deafening. It drew looks from the customers, forcing Xia Chao to dive for it within three seconds.

She pulled it out only to find it was Ping Yuan calling. After such a long cold war, the number of times Ping Yuan had called her could be counted on zero fingers. Xia Chao froze, her heart instinctively racing.

A small smile touched her face. She answered, ready to ask what was up, but a strange voice came from the other end.

“Hello? Are you Ping Yuan’s family?” the unfamiliar woman asked. “Ping Yuan fainted. She’s at the hospital now. Please come and see her.”

Xia Chao didn’t hear anything after that. The moment the news hit, she jumped up and ran for the door.

The wind whistled past her ears. Behind her, Xiao Zhen’s voice rose in a shocked, thunderous shout: “Hey! Xia Chao! Xia Chao! You’re still on shift! Where are you going?! The orders! Xia Chao!”

“Something happened to my sister! Ask for leave for me!” She only had time to yell that back before leaping to the curb to hail a car.

Ride-hailing apps were showing no nearby drivers. Xia Chao looked around, blinded by the sun, seeing only an empty road without a single vacant taxi. Desperate and unwilling to wait, she began to sprint under the scorching sun toward the address provided over the phone.

Fortunately, halfway there, she managed to flag down a car. Even so, she arrived drenched in sweat.

The driver was a kind-hearted woman. Seeing Xia Chao’s breathless state and the hospital destination on the map, she likely filled in the blanks with a life-and-death drama. She slapped her thigh heroically. “Don’t worry, girl! Big Sis will get you there!” she shouted, flooring the gas and weaving through traffic toward the hospital.

By the time Xia Chao followed the signs to the bed, she saw Ping Yuan still unconscious, with a strange woman standing guard beside her.

“Hello.” Hearing the noise at the door, the young woman stood up. She was tall with a jaunty short haircut, clutching Ping Yuan’s handbag. “You’re Sierra’s sister?”

She actually knew who Xia Chao was, and her tone was quite familiar. Xia Chao looked at her instinctively, having no memory of her and never having heard Ping Yuan’s English name. She could only nod. “Yes.”

“Is my sister okay?” she asked softly.

The girl nodded. Like Ping Yuan, she was wearing a serious professional suit, but her personality was clearly more casual. Seeing Xia Chao’s anxiety, she even patted her shoulder. “It’s alright.”

“I’m Sierra’s colleague, you can just call me Amy,” she introduced herself. “Sierra fainted suddenly this morning. The doctor just checked on her and said it’s nothing too serious. It’s just a functional regulation abnormality, not a structural lesion. It’s a… vasovagal… something… caused by dysmenorrhea.” She struggled to recall the exact medical term.

“Vasovagal syncope caused by dysmenorrhea?” Xia Chao asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Amy nodded like a woodpecker, surprised that she knew such an academic term. She let out a long sigh and started rambling. “Basically, it’s not a huge problem. She’s just… asleep now. She probably fainted from overexertion.”

“The doctor said her vitals were terrible when she was brought in,” Amy whispered. “Her blood pressure and heart rate were frighteningly low. They said it’s likely due to all the overtime and lack of sleep recently. Plus, she seems to have a cold—her white blood cell count is a bit high. None of us at work even realized she was sick.”

“I don’t know how she endured it,” she lamented. “If the doctor hadn’t checked her history and seen the cardiac history suggesting observation, I never would have known.”

Xia Chao wasn’t surprised by the answer. Ping Yuan was always like that—unwilling to show weakness, and even less willing to be pitied. She didn’t talk about her illness, just as Xia Chao didn’t easily talk about her own past.

But Xia Chao hadn’t even noticed Ping Yuan’s cold. She lowered her eyes, remembering how Ping Yuan had been avoiding her lately. Every night, they would only catch a fleeting glimpse of each other when Ping Yuan returned from overtime, barely exchanging a word. She hadn’t realized Ping Yuan was unwell, and she certainly hadn’t realized she was this sick.

She wondered how much of this collapse was fueled by the emotional toll of their recent tension.

A wave of bitterness and self-reproach surged in Xia Chao’s heart, but she couldn’t say those things to a stranger. She remained silent. Amy followed her gaze to the IV drip, watching the clear liquid enter Ping Yuan’s hand drop by drop.

Finally, Xia Chao broke the silence. “Thank you for bringing my sister to the hospital and staying to look after her. You must be a very good colleague.”

She meant it. Ping Yuan always carried her burdens alone; her only close friend, Zhu Cijing, was too far away. If Amy hadn’t reacted so quickly, Xia Chao didn’t dare think what might have happened.

The solemn praise made Amy blush. A young girl’s blunt sincerity was hard to handle, especially coming from someone as beautiful as Xia Chao. Amy waved her hands frantically. “It’s nothing, really.”

It was strange. Both sisters were stunning. But for some reason, Amy felt they didn’t look much alike. Unlike Ping Yuan’s cool, ethereal aura, Xia Chao was like the honest sun. When she looked at you, her eyes were like warm, thick syrup; anyone would lose their bearings.

As a member of the “Aesthetics Association,” Amy was no exception.

She didn’t dwell on the difference in their features, merely assuming the family had excellent genes. Just then, her phone rang. It was a colleague from her team. Xia Chao watched as Amy’s healthy complexion turned grey in an instant.

“Is it work?” she asked. Realizing it was almost lunch time, she didn’t want to keep her. “I’m here for Ping Yuan now. Go back and get some rest.”

It was indeed work. Besides checking on the boss, her colleague was reminding her about the afternoon presentation. Amy wailed internally, she had been worried about what she’d do without Ping Yuan this morning, and now she really had to face the storm alone.

Regardless, the job had to go on. With a face as long as a bitter melon, like a fledgling bird being kicked out of the nest to learn to fly, she cast one last lingering look at the sleeping Ping Yuan before saying goodbye to Xia Chao.

*****

The other two beds in the room were empty. Once Amy left, the ward fell silent. Xia Chao looked down and realized she had been in such a rush that she was still wearing her shop apron. No wonder people had stared at her, and no wonder the kind driver had driven like a stunt pilot.

She gave a bitter laugh.

Ping Yuan was still asleep, truly exhausted. Xia Chao checked the IV label: 5% Glucose Sodium Chloride Injection. Having looked after Xia Ling for so long, she had become a “doctor” of sorts. she knew the doctor had ordered this because Ping Yuan’s energy was depleted.

She also knew about vasovagal syncope because Xia Ling had similar issues when her condition worsened. She wondered if this was a cruel hereditary trait of their bloodline.

Ping Yuan’s fragility was evident without a label. Her slender wrist was exposed, her skin so pale it seemed made of snow, almost merging with the white bedding. Her blue veins were visible, reminding Xia Chao of how narcissist petals become translucent when they wilt.

Xia Chao leaned in, watching the faint pulse. Even her fingertips were pale. Xia Chao leaned down and gently tucked Ping Yuan’s hand under the quilt.

She wanted to stay by her side, but there was much to do. Ping Yuan’s admission was sudden; Amy had only handled the emergency intake. There were fees to pay, medicine to fetch, and lab results to print. Xia Chao checked the IV bag, and seeing there was plenty of time left, she went downstairs.

Life, aging, illness, and death—the constants of humanity. The hospital was bustling as always. Children wailed in the blood-draw room, and people argued over line-cutting. Xia Chao stood quietly at the end of the queue, giving directions to an elderly woman who looked lost.

The layout of hospitals is generally the same. She was familiar with them, so she handled every process with a quiet calm. Still, by the time she finished, it was lunch time. She returned to the ward to find Ping Yuan still in a deep sleep.

Xia Chao watched her long lashes casting shadows like the wings of a fragile butterfly, making her wonder if the “scales” would fall off if she touched them. The IV was almost finished. She set down the papers and rang for the nurse to remove the needle. After tucking Ping Yuan in again, she prepared to head to the canteen for food.

Suddenly, she heard her name from the doorway.

“Xia Chao?”

The voice floated into the room. Xia Chao turned to see someone peeking in, her face filling with confusion.

“Xiao Zhen? What are you doing here?”

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