Tulips
Before six in the morning, He Suye was awakened by the phone ringing. As soon as he answered, a girl on the other end shouted frantically, "Doctor Liu, come quick! The patient in Bed 18 might not make it!"
He froze for a moment, about to tell her she had the wrong number, when the voice apologized again, "Sorry, wrong number, wrong number!"
Speechless, he chuckled and hung up, but lying in bed, he found himself unable to fall back asleep. He might as well get up.
Winter mornings were slow to brighten, and even close to six, the sky remained a dull gray. He ate bread dipped in hot milk with one hand while flipping through a research paper with the other, his eyes scanning the pages rapidly. The more he read, the more frustrated he became. He sighed: Li Jie was cutting corners more and more blatantly. Handing in a paper like this to the boss—did he not fear getting skinned alive?
Casually grabbing a pen, he slashed through large sections of useless content and called Li Jie.
Li Jie was deep in slumber in the on-call room when the phone startled him awake. Seeing it was He Suye, he groaned, "Senior Brother, are your hormones out of whack? Why are you up so early?"
He Suye replied irritably, "What kind of garbage paper did you write? No wonder you didn’t dare hand it to the boss yourself. Grab a pen—I’ll dictate what to delete and what to rewrite. No complaints if you want to pass. I’ll be at the inpatient department later; call me when you’re ready."
Li Jie obediently agreed, grinning. "I knew Senior Brother wouldn’t leave me drowning in misery."
He Suye didn’t usually need to make rounds in the inpatient department, but since he had prescribed Chinese herbal medicine as supplementary treatment for some patients, he wanted to check on their progress and adjust the prescriptions accordingly.
When he arrived at the endocrinology and metabolism ward, a group of doctors and nurses were huddled together, whispering. One doctor spotted He Suye and waved him over. "Doctor He, isn’t it strange? The patient was fine yesterday, but suddenly took a turn for the worse this morning."
He paused. "Was there an emergency around six?"
"Exactly! A patient with thyroid eye disease, admitted just two days ago, passed away at dawn."
"Thyroid storm with heart failure?"
Another doctor chimed in, "Could be. Who knew at the time? They were just admitted for observation. Nowadays, everyone’s afraid of lawsuits. Honestly, our department’s been cursed lately—two patients gone in a week, one with thyroid eye disease, the other with heart and kidney failure. With New Year’s around the corner, the whole ward’s gloomy and on edge."
A young nurse, lacking tact, added, "At least it’s not another SARS outbreak. Compared to that, this is nothing."
He Suye’s heart skipped a beat. The two senior doctors’ expressions darkened instantly. The head nurse scolded the young nurse sharply, "Watch your mouth! Get back to work!"
A nurse at the ward entrance called out, "The director’s here!" Immediately, the group scattered. He Suye shook his head and headed straight for the on-call room to find Li Jie.
SARS—a term long unspoken. That year, the entire nation had been gripped by fear of the disease. This nationally renowned hospital was no exception. Not only had SARS patients suffered respiratory distress, shock, and eventual death, but medical staff had also fallen ill one after another, collapsing at their own workplaces. In the early days of SARS, the mortality rate had been nearly 100%.What a bleak year it was. Everyone who had worked in that hospital knew—each had come so close to death. Familiar faces and strangers alike fell one after another, their bodies and belongings all cremated together. Everyone felt they had truly existed, only to vanish without a trace.
The winter sunlight was always hazy, as if smeared across the sky yet unreal, unable to penetrate the wards. He Suye gazed up at the sky, his heart suddenly torn open by a gaping void.
He thought, I should go see Mom.
His alma mater was very close to the hospital, just across the street. That year, the school had been locked down. Many students had tried to escape by climbing over the back wall, only to be caught, quarantined, and eventually punished. He had once considered doing the same—not just because he hadn’t been home in so long, but because the two people dearest to him in life were in that hospital.
But it wasn’t fear of the disaster that stopped him. He just wanted to know if they were alright inside.
In the end, he never did.
The mottled red walls, once lush with ivy in summer, had long lost their greenery. The familiar scent of Chinese herbal medicine wafted from the school’s pharmacy, and the sports field was overgrown with withered grass. The old campus hadn’t been cleaned in ages—now it was mostly the domain of graduate and doctoral students. Few people came and went, except for the occasional medical luminaries, experts, and professors in the five-story office building, most of them gentle and smiling.
He knocked and entered politely. "Professor Yang, I’ve brought Li Jie’s thesis for you."
The old man chuckled. "He Suye? That rascal Li Jie was probably too scared to face me, afraid I’d scold him, huh? Come, sit down first." He took the thesis and flipped through a few pages. "That boy’s improved quite a bit—wait, no. Xiao He, did you help him revise this?"
He Suye had no choice but to nod. The professor took off his glasses and studied him. "You’re really not planning to pursue a Ph.D. in clinical medicine? You’re set on switching to Chinese internal medicine, becoming Gu Ping’s doctoral student?"
He took a deep breath. "I’ve decided. I’ve already spoken with Professor Gu. I should be able to start after the New Year."
The old man sighed regretfully. "What a shame. A promising talent in clinical medicine, snatched away by Chinese medicine. Your grandfather must be overjoyed, but your father’s probably furious."
He smiled. "I’ve always wanted to study Chinese medicine. It has nothing to do with my family."
The professor nodded. "Well, that’s good. Few young people study Chinese medicine these days. If this continues, our country’s traditional medicine will disappear. We all know you’re diligent—study hard!"
After chatting for a while, he got up to leave, but Professor Yang called out to him. "Oh, Xiao He, could you do me a favor?"
He Suye nodded. "Of course, Professor. I’ll do my best."
The old man laughed. "Don’t look so serious. It’s just that a professor from an American university is coming to give a lecture, but he’s very interested in Chinese medicine. I’ve already spoken to Gu Ping—I’d like to borrow you for this. Do you have time?"
He smiled. "No problem. But you’ll have to treat me to a meal!"
After work at noon, He Suye went to a flower shop, visiting several before finally finding tulips. Then he boarded a bus to the suburbs.The cemetery was a place few visited often, yet nearly everyone would come here at least once in their lifetime—their final resting place would be here as well. Thus, people always hoped to come as seldom as possible, for watching acquaintances depart was a sorrowful and helpless experience.
He stared at the tombstone for a long time. His mother was smiling at him in the photo—in his memories, she had always been smiling.
"Su Ye, Mom and Dad are going to work. Be good and don’t run around. There’s bread and milk on the table if you get hungry."
"Su Ye, it’s okay if you didn’t do well on the test. Just do your best. Don’t cry, sweetheart!"
"Su Ye, Mom knows she’s let you down. She’s been too busy with work to spend time with you—she couldn’t even make it to your parent-teacher meetings. But Su Ye still grew up so strong and outstanding. Mom is so proud of you."
A pang of bitterness surged in his chest, and his eyes reddened instantly. The doctor had told him that when his mother passed, she was still smiling, saying that the one she had wronged most in this life was her son, Su Ye. "Don’t blame your dad," she had said. "It was my own choice to go. Don’t hold it against him."
But he still blamed his father. There was a knot in his heart, one that only tightened with time, and now it was impossible to undo.
He placed the tulips down and reached out to touch the tombstone—spotless.
His thoughts stretched endlessly, impossible to cut off once they began.
"Mom, does Dad still visit you twice a week? Do you know? I haven’t seen him in so long. I wonder how he’s doing. Do you know?"
"Mom, I’ve decided to study Chinese herbal medicine, even though Dad wanted me to go into cardiovascular medicine. Did you know? My first choice for college was Chinese herbal medicine, but Dad changed it to integrated Chinese and Western medicine without asking me. That’s why I’ve resented him so much."
"Mom, I really love Chinese herbal medicine. Maybe it’s because of Grandpa. When I was little, I loved watching him handle herbs and treat patients. One day, sitting in his rocking chair, he told me, 'Su Ye, your name is also the name of a medicinal herb.' Chinese herbal medicine isn’t just about herbs—it’s a field of study. Each herb has its own name, its own taste—bitter, sweet, sour, spicy, pungent—and when combined into remedies, each has its own purpose, its own cure. But the intricate principles behind healing people are like life itself—few can truly grasp them."
The afternoon sun suddenly dimmed, and a cold wind began to blow. The tulip petals swayed in the breeze, as if rain were coming.
He stood up and smiled at the tombstone. "Mom, I’ll go now."
Instead of heading straight home, he went to his grandfather’s house in the old district.
He Suye’s grandfather was a highly renowned practitioner of Chinese herbal medicine, with ancestors said to trace back to imperial physicians of the Ming and Qing dynasties. He had once been the president of a university of Chinese medicine before being transferred to serve as director of the health department. After retirement, he lived a semi-reclusive life.
It was he who had given He Suye his name.
When He Suye entered, he didn’t go straight to the study. Instead, he wandered through the courtyard, sniffing each of the herbs drying in the sun. It was Grandma He who spotted him first. "Old man, Su Ye is here!"
At that moment, He Suye was frowning at a particular herb. Grandpa He stood behind him and reminded him, "That’s turmeric root. Have you forgotten all you’ve learned, boy?"
Embarrassed, he muttered, "This herb isn’t used much. Most people just treat it as an ornamental plant."Grandpa He crouched down with a chuckle, picking up a piece to fiddle with in his hand. "Phlegm-resolving Brain-penetrating Pills and Diaphragm-opening Powder both contain this. Bitter in taste, neutral, non-toxic. It moves qi to relieve stagnation, cools blood and breaks stasis. Treats pain in the chest, abdomen, ribs, and sides, as well as manic-depressive disorders, feverish coma, vomiting blood, bloody urine, and jaundice. See here, boy, your skills still need work."
He Suye straightened up seriously. "I plan to transfer to the Traditional Chinese Medicine College for my Ph.D., specializing in Internal Medicine. My advisor will be Gu Ping."
Grandpa He looked surprised. "That old rascal! The one who used to fight with me every day as a kid? He's extremely strict—his students used to call him Extermination Taoist. You'll lose a layer of skin under him, boy!"
He Suye didn’t respond, just quietly gazed at the turmeric root in his hand and said softly, "Grandpa, I brought tulips to visit Mom today."
A long silence followed. Grandpa He stood up. "It's been a while since you came home. Go see your father too. Though I'm his father and your grandfather, I can't interfere in your relationship. Even though your father has made many mistakes... well..."
He nodded but hesitated. "I’ll find time. Don’t worry, Grandpa. Actually, I’ve made mistakes too, but it’s hard to explain right now."
Grandma He called from the living room, "Old and young, come eat! Su Ye, your favorite sweet and sour ribs are ready today!"
Grandpa He scrambled to put away the herbs and shouted, "Boy, it’s about to rain. Go gather all the herbs before you eat!"
He Suye suddenly felt like he was back in his childhood—the courtyard filled with the scent of herbs and honeyed pills. He remembered sneaking honey and being punished to dry herbs, only for a sudden downpour to send him and his grandparents scrambling to collect them. Though the herbs stayed dry, he ended up drenched and caught a cold for days. But during those days, he had honey every day.
The honey jar would always run out, but he believed the sweetness never would.
He Suye left very late, and light rain had already begun to fall on his way home.
After getting off the bus, there was still a stretch of road ahead. He wasn’t in a hurry, walking slowly in the rain. The day had left him exhausted and weighed down, with the past replaying in his mind, leaving him feeling helpless and defeated.
He wanted to let the rain wash over him, to clear his head.
Suddenly, a blue umbrella blocked his view. He turned to see Shen Xifan smiling awkwardly as she explained, "Ah, He Suye, you’re too tall—I can’t reach you with the umbrella! What are you standing there for? Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?"
Her slightly damp bangs clung to her forehead, her face lit with a smile. She wore a blue cotton jacket, jeans, and sneakers, holding a large bouquet of purple tulips in her left hand while struggling to lift the umbrella with her right.
He quickly took the umbrella from her, feeling something inside him slowly melt.
Every time he saw Shen Xifan, she seemed so happy—carefree, at least. He envied her a little. She loved to smile, even when sick, as if thinking, "It’ll get better anyway, no big deal."
Her smile, framed by the bouquet of tulips, was truly sweet.
But the flowers suddenly felt glaring to him. He found himself bothered by who might have given them to her and blurted out, "Who sent these?"
Shen Xifan blinked, then grinned. "What do you mean 'who sent them'? The hotel just hosted a birthday banquet for a young lady, and I took all the leftover tulips. So, what do you think—pretty, right?"He Suye smiled—it was his first genuine smile of the day. "Very pretty, really!"
She pushed half of them toward him. "If you like them, take half! They’re free anyway!"
He tilted the umbrella toward her, shielding her completely. "Since when do girls give flowers to guys? Silly!"
Shen Xifan glanced at He Suye, then at herself, and let out an awkward chuckle. "Here’s how it should go: you hold all the flowers first, then hand half to me and say, 'Miss Shen Xifan, please accept this humble gift.' There—perfectly reasonable and proper!"
In the end, he really did take half the tulips home. He felt a little foolish, but strangely, it was the first time he had ever cared for flowers so attentively—finding a vase, watering them, even dropping in a vitamin C tablet.
He had always been hopeless with plants, unable to keep even a cactus alive.
But this time, he hoped the tulips would last just a little longer. When they eventually withered, he could dry the petals and turn them into bookmarks. They would be beautiful.
His mother had loved tulips too. Coincidentally, her surname was Yu, and her given name, Nianxiang—"Yearning for Fragrance."
He began to wonder if he should have a serious talk with his father—about himself, about the future.
In the corner stood that blue umbrella. The girl’s home was in Unit 2, Building 7, Apartment 301, F District. She had a kind-looking father who told him, "Young man, go home and drink some banlangen so you don’t catch a cold." And though he hadn’t met her, she had mentioned her mother—menopausal, gossipy. A simple, happy family.
Sometimes, when he was younger, he would imagine: What if his parents weren’t the department head and head nurse? Would he still have to cook for himself, whispering "Goodnight, Mom and Dad" to an empty house? Would he still have to awkwardly explain to teachers why no one came to parent-teacher meetings? But he had learned early on to accept reality.
It wasn’t resignation. He knew independence was inevitable—whether he learned it sooner or later made no difference.
He had been a precocious, sensible child.
But deep down, he had once hoped for a lively home, filled with his parents’ laughter. Now, that seemed like an impossible dream. The warmth of family that radiated from the girl was something he lacked—and something he longed for.
He wanted to be near her, to draw in that warmth.
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