Lu Chenchen had a cold. It was probably related to the big weather changes over the past couple days, changing beds and quilts. But Lu Chenchen felt the biggest reason was that, in the two and a half days since coming to Professor Qi's house, her entire body and mind had gone through a disaster, completely uprooted.
Lu Chenchen used her phone to search Professor Qi's name, and a long list of related information popped up, various titles like medical PhD, professor, doctoral supervisor, etc. that won't all be listed. Things like committees, directors, published papers also won't be elaborated on. Let's just talk about his outstanding areas: cerebrovascular disease and optic neuritis.
Optic neuritis.
Seeing these extremely familiar words, her vision blurred just like when the doctor talked about how this disease damages vision. Big teardrops fell on her phone. She went to wipe them but accidentally closed the page showing now. Lu Chenchen was terrified, as if she would go blind if it disappeared. She carefully pulled out a tissue and gingerly wiped her phone dry, opened the page again.
Lu Chenchen hugged her phone spacing out for a long time, until daylight shone through the curtains and gave the room a faint glow.
From that time on, Professor Qi became an ancestor-like figure.
Lu Chenchen never mentioned “nerves” or anything related to “nerves” in front of him again. She focused all her attention on understanding his routine, tastes, preferences, racking her brains on how to make him rely on her, unable to leave her.
Usually Lu Chenchen gets up around 6-6:30am, already pretty good for a nanny. But this morning around 5am, she heard slight noises in the living room and immediately got dressed and went out. Sure enough, Professor Qi was already up, drinking water.
Lu Chenchen said the water in the cup was boiled last night, unsure if it was still warm. He responded normally that it was still hot water, and even asked if his noises woke Lu Chenchen up.
“Of course not, I can never sleep past this time anyway.” Lu Chenchen gritted her teeth, gently smiling.
The weather report said it would be 26 degrees today, but morning and night would surely still be cool. After Professor Qi finished drinking, Lu Chenchen took back the cup and prepared long sleeves and a coat for him, telling him to go change himself. Boss Chen said his self-care abilities were lacking, great! Lu Chenchen liked waiting on him.
Breakfast was the oil splashed noodles Professor Qi specifically asked for last night. Of course, Lu Chenchen secretly gave her specialty food an extra push. Her little wontons and red bean buns were also well-liked by her employer, but for Mao Yuanning’s tastes recently, she put in quite some work on the oil splashed noodles, making a bowl with shining oil and aromatic spiciness that could rival authentic Shaanxi flavors.
Naturally, when she asked Professor Qi what he wanted for breakfast, he said, “Then try that oil splashed noodles you keep self-promoting.”
Today Lu Chenchen made it with exceptional care! For other employers, including Mao Yuanning’s oil splashed noodles, the meat sauce was made using a meat grinder, slightly uneven sizes. For Professor Qi’s, Lu Chenchen finely chopped the meat by hand on a cutting board, uniform pieces. Along with the authentic Yibin shoots Lu Chenchen brought, it was the peak meat sauce for oil splashed noodles, incomparable.
With a “chi la” sound, in went the hot oil, aroma overflowing. Lu Chenchen was nearly certain this was the most fragrant bowl of oil splashed noodles she’d ever made.
“No one told you this eating method is extremely unhealthy?” Professor Qi ruthlessly said from the kitchen doorway. Finding one sentence inadequate to support his theory, he walked into the kitchen, pointed at the colorfully aromatic noodles and told Lu Chenchen: “First, glutamate turns into heterocyclic amines at high temperatures, heterocyclic amines are carcinogens, you didn’t know? Second, what’s in the oil? Glyceride, free saturated fatty acids, things that make you fat and decrease brain function. Adults only need 200 mg of cooking oil per day to meet needs. How many mg in that spoonful? If I eat that spoonful could I eat other stir fried dishes today? And, and,” he got more and more enthusiastic, even using chopsticks to poke at the seasoning on the noodles, “What’s this? Black gunk, you dare serve this to me to eat?”
My mistake, my mistake! Lu Chenchen hugged the bowl to herself, smiling apologetically: “Professor Qi, why don’t I eat this bowl, you can tell me what you want, I’ll make it fresh.”
Professor Qi thought for a bit, took out a small bowl from the cupboard, looked at the noodle bowl, smacked his lips at her.
Understood, understood, totally understood! Lu Chenchen mixed the seasoning, obediently put a small pinch of noodles in the small bowl for him, handing it over saying: “Too little right? Or should I cook more for you...”
He brushed away Lu Chenchen’s hand and the small noodle bowl she held, picking up the big bowl, resignedly saying: “Cook me a small bowl of vegetable soup again, not one drop of oil allowed this time.”
...This old guy sure knows how to joke around!
Near noon, Lu Chenchen started feeling a bit off. Actually there were small early signs before like nasal congestion that she ignored, thinking drinking more hot water could power through it. Who knew the mucus got worse, fatigue and dizziness set in, she really wanted to sleep.
With Lu Chenchen’s limited medical knowledge, this all fits cold symptoms.
Lu Chenchen didn’t dare make a peep, using an excuse to go out shopping for medicine.
Yes, Lu Chenchen knew there was no real need to take cold medicine. Drink water, drink water, drink water, at most a week and she’d get better. With her awesome health, probably just 4-5 days.
But Lu Chenchen needed the cold medicine to alleviate or conceal the symptoms.
Professor Qi was a doctor. Lu Chenchen worried if he knew she had a cold he’d sweep her out like shooing a virus. To present Lu Chenchen, decreasing or even eliminating that quadruple pay didn’t matter. She just wanted his good impression over the holiday, leaving a deep memory. To crudely put it, Lu Chenchen even desperately wished to replace his old nanny, becoming Professor Qi’s live-in.
When Lu Chenchen pictured replacing bedding after his old nanny finished her son’s wedding and didn’t return to Wuhan, scenes flashed through her mind. Lu Chenchen felt ashamed, but more intense than shame was determination. Of all the employers Lu Chenchen had in 2 years, Professor Qi was the only doctor she met, a neurologist at that. She had to grab this chance.
He was very important to Lu Chenchen, to Le Hai.
Lu Chenchen had gone with Le Hai to every big hospital in the city seeking help, met with cold gazes. Including the famous specialist number she got him for 99 yuan, what they got was stiff textbook process: inquiring−testing−medicating−follow-ups.
Although helpless, Chinese common folk are kind. As one herself, Lu Chenchen understood doctors. China had too many people, too many patients coming to hospitals. Doctors had to see everyone in limited time, naturally no extra time or energy for nobodies like her and Le Hai.
Perhaps those professor doctors also knew, for patient X, XX, XXX in the clinic flow, their health was the whole world for that family. But they were helpless, had no way to inject care beyond textbooks into others’ worlds.
As tiny grains in the sea, Lu Chenchen desperately sought that human warmth unique to China. If doctor professors gave a bit more consideration, care in prescribing, it would mean so much more to patients and families. That was why she viewed Professor Qi as a lifesaver, trying every means to get him.
So could she let him know she had a cold? Over halfway through the 5 days and she hadn’t seen him get sick again, but even in normal state he probably barely knew or cared what Lu Chenchen’s name was, let alone wish for her to stay.
Lu Chenchen still needed to strive, frantically work hard the remaining 2 and a half days. How could she let a cold mess up her plans at this critical time?
