Chapter 1: The Nearest Yet Farthest Person (Five)

She felt a wave of dizziness; unable to cry out or shout, all she could do was clutch the rope tightly. As she watched the little girl nimbly land on the ground, only then did she let out a sound.

The little girl landed on the ground, looked up, and waved at the still stunned Qiuwei.

“Nannan, stop!” Qiuwei was frantic, raising her voice loudly, “Guards, guards!”

The guards rushed in.

Qiuwei shouted, “Hurry, Nannan is in the backyard, go bring her back!” She leaned over the windowsill again, calling loudly to Nannan, “Nannan, don’t run off! Nannan! Nannan… Suixin! Tao Suixin!” Qiuwei was talking in a flurry, watching as Suixin, holding up her little skirt and barefoot, ran farther and farther away. She wished she could sprout wings and fly down to catch her.

Suixin, meanwhile, turned around and ran with joyful laughter. Her footprints left marks in the grass, and the dew soaked her shoes, making her feel a little cold. She shook her feet, not caring in the slightest.

The towering buildings of the hospital surrounded the garden like a box filled with thick fog. Suixin ran across the grassy field in the mist, occasionally scratched by the tips of cedar branches brushing against her face. She laughed happily, feeling as though this place resembled the magical fairyland from her favorite story, *The Wizard of Oz*… When she emerged from the shrubbery and stood still, she realized she had reached the crossroads connecting several of the hospital buildings. She carefully checked her bearings and decided to head toward the southern building—passing through it should lead to the hospital’s main entrance. That much she remembered.

But she hadn’t run far when she spotted guards in gray military uniforms rushing out from the western building, breaking through the fog as they called out, “Miss Suixin!”

Suixin immediately took off running.

She darted and weaved her way past doctors, nurses, and patients who were all hurrying along.

The guards were catching up. She changed direction, but the moment she turned around, she crashed into someone’s arms.

“Ouch!” she cried out, her voice delicate and tender. “I’m sorry.” She steadied herself, and after saying this, she tried to run. Unexpectedly, that person grabbed her arm, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, forced to stand straight.

“Don’t run around,” the person said.

Suixin was captivated by the crisp, clear voice, and she looked up at the person she had bumped into—a woman in a white coat. She still held Suixin in a half-embrace, her arm bearing Suixin’s weight—so Suixin simply stood there, studying her: there was the scent of a doctor about her, but unlike other women in white coats, whether doctors or nurses, her scent was warm, with a faint, indescribable fragrance… Suixin sniffed and stared unblinkingly at this female doctor: she wasn’t frightening. Her large eyes, hidden behind thin lenses, were also watching her. Under such a gaze, Suixin couldn’t help but feel a little awkward.

“Why aren’t you waiting for the doctor’s rounds at this time, running outside instead?” she asked.

Suixin didn’t say a word.

Behind the female doctor, someone chimed in: “Director Cheng, this is a patient from the pediatrics department named Tao Suixin, admitted for acute gastroenteritis.”

“Your surname is Tao, given name Suixin?” the female doctor referred to as “Director Cheng” asked.

Just as she was looking at her name, it was called out from between those lips with their soft, elegant lines. Without nodding or shaking her head, she blinked and retorted, “And what is your name?”

Behind the glasses, a trace of amusement flashed in her large eyes.