Sit Softly On Your Shoulder

Chapter 13: Slow Progress

Every day is the same for Lan Zhan. His body has acclimatised to the time difference in Suzhou compared to London now, so he opens his eyes at five am, regardless of whether he's managed to sleep or not. He's realised that even if he hasn't, he must force his body to relax for the hours that it must lay flat, and that's where his years of meditating come in useful.

He exercises because it's part of his normal routine, and at this time, sticking to a known schedule keeps him from losing his mind. If he can trick all the components that make up his own self that everything is alright, maybe he can make it come true through osmosis, because everything is most certainly NOT alright.

For six days now, he and XiChen have managed to spend most of the hours with their Uncle, however for XiChen, he still has a cutthroat business to run, and any sign of weakness, any absence is like letting a drop of blood fall into a pool full of starving piranhas. So it falls to Lan Zhan to make sure he's there in that cold impersonal hospital room, smelling of disinfectant and medicine, talking to the doctors and nurses, the specialists and the physical therapists, asking them for their opinion about this most precious of people.

However it was growing up under their strict Uncle and his endless rules, the truth is, their Uncle had done his best and that was all they could ask of him.

Every morning and every evening, Lan Zhan asks whoever is there to give him their honest opinion: will Shufu get better?

The frustrating thing is, they don't know either. It's the uncertainty that is driving Lan Zhan up the wall. And because no one actually knows, they waffle on like a student out of their depth, writing unnecessary words to flesh out an essay and it's a tactic that's been done to death. The health professionals all tell him that these sorts of cases are unpredictable, that each person is different and therefore, will respond to treatment individually, that they cannot provide an accurate diagnosis until they can talk to him. Which is a laugh ironically, because no one wants to wake him up prematurely in case they end up harming him further.

Then, other health issues complicate matters; his blood pressure fluctuates worse than a business shares index, and that messes with his body temperature. It is difficult to spend day in, day out, looking at his uncle's too pale face, cataloguing both the old and new lines that crease his paper-thin skin, and come to the horrifying realisation that he's not the strong immovable pillar of rigidity he once was. That time listens to no one, gradually eating away the minutes, hours and days from a person's life like a deadly hungry caterpillar with no thoughts or compunction to do anything else.

Things are not looking good.

The only moments of joy are when Lan Zhan receives messages from either Mianmian, or Wei Ying. Given the time difference and because the ones back in London don't know when they would be free enough to text, since there's no certainty about when the customers would give them a break, Lan Zhan keeps a vigilant eye on his phone, checking whenever he gets a notification.

These messages are his lifeline, a thread to keep him grounded, to hope that things will get better.

One such time is after he and XiChen return from the hospital after yet another gruelling day, both of them are too tired to cook, so they order in. While they're waiting on their food, Lan Zhan gets several texts in quick succession, and he knows that there can only be one person who does this.

Wei Ying: Good morning Lan Zhan! Well, I suppose it's evening there, so good evening! What's the update on Uncle? Any changes?🤞💪🤸

The emojis make him laugh, and inadvertently release the tight ball of tension in his gut. Lan Zhan had no idea he was feeling so stressed. There's no way his uncle is doing cartwheels, not even when he was hale and hearty.