Keep Her Safe - Chapter 1

A week before my brother’s third attempt at the college entrance exams, Mom and Dad did something they had never done before: they took an extended leave from the factory and kept me home from school.

My brother stayed at school to prepare. My parents stayed with me, on constant alert, never leaving my side.

Their faces were gentle. But beneath that gentleness was an exhaustion that years of worry had made impossible to hide.

I had been born with severe thalassemia. About every three weeks, I needed a blood transfusion. My iron chelation treatment cost another three thousand yuan a month.

All these years, my brother, whose blood type matched mine, had paid the price alongside me. My parents’ savings had been drained over and over.

They watched over me for seven days.

Only on the afternoon before the exams did Mom finally relax a little.

“Your brother’s coming home for dinner tonight,” she said with a relieved breath. “The exams start tomorrow. Two more days, and they’ll be over. Then we’ll all take you back to school, Zhi.”

Dad’s face was weathered, his hair already gray. To keep up with my endless medical bills, he often worked back-to-back shifts at the factory, starting at dawn and finishing close to midnight. He was only in his early forties, but he looked fifty or sixty.

Now even he was smiling. He swept out a hand.

“Once Wen Shi finishes his entrance exams and Zhi finishes her finals, the four of us will take a holiday, just like the rich people do! How about Guilin? That’s where Zhi said she wanted to go.”

Mom hated to spend the money. But after a long silence, she smiled and nodded.

“All right. Once the children finish their exams, we’ll go. We’ll book Zhi a soft sleeper on the train. Hard seats for the rest of us. You get a lovely view from a window seat.”

Hope brightened her eyes.

Then she carefully lit another stick of incense and knelt to pray. Her voice was quiet and earnest, but I could still hear her.

“Wen Shi will be twenty-one after New Year. Please let the exams go smoothly this time.

“And Zhi… please don’t let anything happen to her again.”

The wind picked up outside.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and I coughed. Dad immediately got up to shut the window, as alarmed as if an enemy had come through it.

But my hands and feet were already growing cold.

I knew the feeling. Cold sweat broke out across my palms and back. Every breath felt thick with mist; a dull ache spread through my nose and throat.

Acute complications from anemia.

After so many years, no one knew that feeling better than I did.

Dad turned toward me, his expression darkening. Before he could ask anything, the front door opened. My brother was home.

Everyone sprang into action. Mom hurried into the kitchen to bring out the dishes she had kept warm. Dad laid out bowls and chopsticks.

My brother dropped his schoolbag and came straight to me, as he always did.

“Well, little Wen Zhi? How are we feeling today?” His tone was teasing, but the concern was real. “Taken your chelation medicine? You haven’t been skipping it again?”

Sweat trickled from my forehead into my eyes. The dizziness surged, and a ringing filled my ears.

It was midsummer, but I felt as if I were falling into an ice pit.

I wiped my face and forced myself to stop shaking.

“I’m fine. I took it first thing this morning.”

He crouched in front of me, studying my face. Then he touched my forehead.

“It’s not hot in here. Why are you sweating so much?”

My chest felt stuffed with thick cotton.

He wiped the sweat from my forehead. His eyes grew more worried, his voice a little louder.

“And why are your hands so cold? Mom, Dad—when did you take Zhi for her transfusion? Her anemia isn’t getting worse again, is it?”

He reached to pull me up.

“Come on. Hospital. It’s been almost six months since I last gave blood. I should be able to donate again…”

Mom’s hands shook, spilling a little food from the dish she was carrying. Dad went still.

The warmth and bustle froze around us.

I snapped out of my daze.

“I’m all right,” I said quickly. “Dad opened the window. The hot air made me a bit dizzy, that’s all. I’m much better now.”

My parents let out their breath almost together.

“She had a transfusion just a few days ago,” Mom said, visibly relieved. “She can’t be anemic again.”

I rallied what strength I had, got up by myself, and pushed my brother toward the dinner table.

Dad put a piece of braised pork trotter in his bowl and said its glossy red color meant good fortune. Mom gave him a victory cake for success on the exams.

They had never believed in things like that before. But on the eve of my brother’s third attempt, neither of them could bring themselves to say, “Whatever happens, happens.”

The ringing in my ears grew deafening. My vision swam until I could barely make out their faces.

I clenched my teeth to keep from falling.

Late that night, while I was washing up, my strength finally gave out. I collapsed, striking my head on the basin.

Pain burst inside my skull.

My parents rushed in at the noise. Dad helped me up and checked me, his face grave.

“It looks like acute complications from severe anemia. She probably needs blood. Wake Wen Shi. We’re going to the hospital.”

But Mom suddenly lost control.

She had always loved me so dearly. Now her eyes held only terror and a fierce refusal to accept what was happening.

“That’s impossible! It’s only been a few days since her transfusion! The doctor said it would last at least two weeks!”

Dad looked torn.

“We have to get her checked. Bring Wen Shi in case they need—”

“Is that all he is? A tool?”

Mom’s eyes went bloodshot. For the first time, I heard her scream.