old, and the majority were women. It was a form of heart disease that was mainly valvular, caused by acute rheumatic fever, usually attacking the bicuspid and aortic valves, causing stenosis or valve insufficiency and blood circulation stasis that would eventually lead to overall heart insufficiency.
Yixun said, “So, do you think Wu’s dizziness has something to do with rheumatic heart disease?”
Dr. Tang said it was possible because a minority of patients might have shortness of breath or faint when the symptoms got worse. As Dr. Tang was talking, he and Wu exchanged a glance, a quick one, barely noticeable. In the face of Yixun’s careful concern, both seemed a little bit ashamed. They hadn’t expected that Yixun would invite Dr. Tang for a beer and have such a friendly conversation with him. It was, of course, the normal attitude of a normal person: Yixun felt indebted to the doctor for his kindness—Wu described in her letter to him how Dr. Tang came to her rescue when she passed out in the clinic and how he managed to get her into the internal medicine ward. When Dr. Tang told Yixun that there usually wasn’t great danger as long as the patient took care to rest and avoided intense physical activity, Yixun felt reassured.
Three days later when Yixun was returning to the farm, Wu packed the cream-coloured jumper she had knitted into his luggage.
Their house went quiet for a few days. Wu lay quietly on the bed, often without moving, as if she were really afraid of intense activity. Tiao felt everything was fine, as if Dr. Tang had never appeared in their house—which was when she realized that she had never liked Dr. Tang, even if he had saved Wu’s life a hundred times over. But the calm lasted only a few days, after which Wu started to get active. Apparently it had become inconvenient for her to invite Dr. Tang home anymore, or she felt embarrassed to invite him over so quickly—so soon after Yixun had been there. She didn’t want the children to notice the obvious contrast; she already felt Tiao’s awkwardness was harder and harder to handle, so she decided to go out.
She must be going either to the hospital or Dr. Tang’s place, Tiao thought. Wu often went out after dark and didn’t come back until very late. Before she left, she always spent a long time in front of the mirror, combing her hair, gazing at her reflection, changing clothes and practicing pleasant expressions, checking both her front view and side view. How wilted and spiritless she appeared when she was tossing around on her pillow, her hair dishevelled and her eyes dull, with drool at the corner of her mouth, thin and silvery, like a snail track. Had Dr. Tang seen her this way? If Dr. Tang saw this side of her, would he still want her to visit him?
But when Wu stood before the mirror and prepared to leave, she seemed to have turned into a completely different person, enthusiastic and energetic, her entire body lit up like a candle. Sometimes she even brought one or two dishes along, food for Dr. Tang. For this reason she had to enter the kitchen, the place she had always hated. Clumsily, she’d make fried eggplant and beef-carrot stew. She would put up with Tiao’s comments, believing Tiao was just being intentionally hurtful. Tiao made a point of saying that Wu’s cooking was bland, that the beef-carrot stew wouldn’t be tasty if she didn’t use curry powder. Wu then humbly asked where the curry powder was, but Tiao declared happily she didn’t have any and they just couldn’t find curry powder in Fuan, that the curry powder they used to have came with them from Beijing. Wu never noticed that Tiao had been removing the seasonings little by little. She hid them so Wu wouldn’t find them and use them, because they had all become too closely associated with Dr. Tang.
When Wu was not home, Tiao flipped through the pages of The Family Medical Encyclopedia that Dr. Tang had given Wu. She turned to the section on rheumatic heart
Yixun said, “So, do you think Wu’s dizziness has something to do with rheumatic heart disease?”
Dr. Tang said it was possible because a minority of patients might have shortness of breath or faint when the symptoms got worse. As Dr. Tang was talking, he and Wu exchanged a glance, a quick one, barely noticeable. In the face of Yixun’s careful concern, both seemed a little bit ashamed. They hadn’t expected that Yixun would invite Dr. Tang for a beer and have such a friendly conversation with him. It was, of course, the normal attitude of a normal person: Yixun felt indebted to the doctor for his kindness—Wu described in her letter to him how Dr. Tang came to her rescue when she passed out in the clinic and how he managed to get her into the internal medicine ward. When Dr. Tang told Yixun that there usually wasn’t great danger as long as the patient took care to rest and avoided intense physical activity, Yixun felt reassured.
Three days later when Yixun was returning to the farm, Wu packed the cream-coloured jumper she had knitted into his luggage.
Their house went quiet for a few days. Wu lay quietly on the bed, often without moving, as if she were really afraid of intense activity. Tiao felt everything was fine, as if Dr. Tang had never appeared in their house—which was when she realized that she had never liked Dr. Tang, even if he had saved Wu’s life a hundred times over. But the calm lasted only a few days, after which Wu started to get active. Apparently it had become inconvenient for her to invite Dr. Tang home anymore, or she felt embarrassed to invite him over so quickly—so soon after Yixun had been there. She didn’t want the children to notice the obvious contrast; she already felt Tiao’s awkwardness was harder and harder to handle, so she decided to go out.
She must be going either to the hospital or Dr. Tang’s place, Tiao thought. Wu often went out after dark and didn’t come back until very late. Before she left, she always spent a long time in front of the mirror, combing her hair, gazing at her reflection, changing clothes and practicing pleasant expressions, checking both her front view and side view. How wilted and spiritless she appeared when she was tossing around on her pillow, her hair dishevelled and her eyes dull, with drool at the corner of her mouth, thin and silvery, like a snail track. Had Dr. Tang seen her this way? If Dr. Tang saw this side of her, would he still want her to visit him?
But when Wu stood before the mirror and prepared to leave, she seemed to have turned into a completely different person, enthusiastic and energetic, her entire body lit up like a candle. Sometimes she even brought one or two dishes along, food for Dr. Tang. For this reason she had to enter the kitchen, the place she had always hated. Clumsily, she’d make fried eggplant and beef-carrot stew. She would put up with Tiao’s comments, believing Tiao was just being intentionally hurtful. Tiao made a point of saying that Wu’s cooking was bland, that the beef-carrot stew wouldn’t be tasty if she didn’t use curry powder. Wu then humbly asked where the curry powder was, but Tiao declared happily she didn’t have any and they just couldn’t find curry powder in Fuan, that the curry powder they used to have came with them from Beijing. Wu never noticed that Tiao had been removing the seasonings little by little. She hid them so Wu wouldn’t find them and use them, because they had all become too closely associated with Dr. Tang.
When Wu was not home, Tiao flipped through the pages of The Family Medical Encyclopedia that Dr. Tang had given Wu. She turned to the section on rheumatic heart
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