Keep Her Safe - Chapter 2

Her voice trembled, but she fought to keep it down so she wouldn’t wake my brother.

“Is Wen Shi nothing but a source of blood? This is the third year. Wen Mingyuan, the third year! His homeroom teacher, Ms. Zheng, said if he dares miss the exams again, she won’t let him repeat the year in her class!”

The color slowly drained from Dad’s face.

“Please… calm down. I’m only saying he should come, just in case. He might not need to give blood. Even if he does, he can still take the exams tomorrow.”

Mom clenched her hands. Tears suddenly slipped down her face.

In my fifteen years, I had never seen her cry before.

Her eyes, her voice—everything was close to despair.

“It’s the middle of the night. You want to wake him up and take his blood? How could that not affect his exams tomorrow?

“Why? Why does this happen every year? She had a transfusion only days ago! I gave up my perfect-attendance bonus, took all this time off, watched her with you for seven days! She was fine all week. Why today? Why again?”

Dad looked haggard and helpless. He moved closer to comfort her.

“Don’t get so upset. Zhi… she hasn’t done this on purpose. She doesn’t want to be ill either.”

Mom was shaking violently.

At last, something hardened in her face, as if she had reached a decision.

“Take Zhi to your mother’s. The exams… they’re only two days.

“Mingyuan, I want Wen Shi to have a chance. Just once, I want it to be fair to him. Ever since Zhi was born—fifteen years—he’s always been the one to give way. The one to sacrifice.”

I lowered my eyes, ashamed.

I thought blood was seeping from my head, matting my hair. My eyelids kept drooping. I could barely hold them open.

Dad pressed his lips together. His face was dark. In the dim yellow light, he seemed to have aged again.

Mom’s stifled sobs were full of pain and helplessness.

“She only had blood a few days ago. It can’t be anemia. It’s probably a cold or something. Call me selfish, Mingyuan. I want… I want to put Wen Shi first, just this once. Let him sit his exams in peace.”

A terrible, deathly silence settled around us.

A few steps away was my brother’s closed bedroom door. He had gone to bed early for the exams in the morning.

He had waited three years for them. More than a thousand days and nights. Over a hundred practice exams.

My eyes misted.

After a long time, I managed to lift a hand and tug on Mom’s faded sleeve.

“I… I miss Grandma. I’d like to stay with her for a few days.”

Mom looked sharply at me. Her lips trembled. As she lowered her gaze, grief and guilt flooded her eyes.

She crouched and pulled me tight against her. I was still sitting on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Zhi,” she said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Dad drove. Mom sat beside me in the back as we went to Grandma’s through the night.

The car jolted along. My consciousness sank deeper and deeper.

Mom held my hand the whole way. Not once did she let go.

Her palm was warm. I tried to press that feeling deep into my memory.

Mom’s hand. Mom’s warmth.

By the time we got out, her eyes were red and swollen. She hugged me, choking on her words.

“Your brother, Zhi… he’s a person too. He has his own future ahead of him. I was upset. I said things I shouldn’t have. Once his exams are over, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll apologize properly.”

Dad looked utterly tired. He sighed.

“We promise we’ll come for you as soon as the two days are over. All right?”

They asked me. But before I could answer, Mom was already hurrying him along.

“We have to take him to the exams at daybreak. We can’t stay. We need to get back.”

When I looked up again, Dad’s car was already speeding out of sight.

In the predawn darkness, its wheels stirred a few yellow-green leaves from the ground.

Grandma was old and had some dementia. She watched from the doorway for a while, then went back to her room.

Wind blew into my mouth and nose, setting off another violent coughing fit. This time, it felt as if I would cough up my insides.

I turned and stumbled to the bedroom. The moment I lay down, I vomited a mouthful of bloody froth.

The last of my strength seemed to leave with it.

I lay flat on the bed, staring at the dark ceiling. Moonlight shone through the window, casting cold patches of light that trembled overhead.

They reminded me of the little pinwheel my brother had given me, turning in the wind.

“Round and round the pinwheel goes,” he had said. “Bad luck out and good luck in. May my little Zhi always be safe.”

I wasn’t safe anymore.

I hoped my brother would be. I hoped he would do well on his exams.

With that thought, I closed my eyes.

Then I knew nothing.