Zhao Weihua, the head nurse of a tertiary hospital, woke up and entered the chronicle that his daughter was reading.
She became the heroine's mother who died young, a commune cleaner who earned eighteen yuan a month. Eight-year-old daughter Su Nian was huddled in the ward with a high fever and said to her: "Mom, I don't feel bad anymore. I will be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. Don't spend any money."
Zhao Weihua put the enamel jar on the table. In the book, her daughter died in childbirth at the age of twenty in the snow—an ending she did not agree to.
Others bring systems and spaces through time, but Zhao Weihua brings a pair of hands and twenty years of nursing experience. She used sewing needles to give people acupuncture, scoured scrapyards for old medical books, worked as a cleaner to become a barefoot doctor, used a fake seal she carved in exchange for a regular job, traded her medical skills for food, used her character to build connections, and chopped off the black hand that the deputy director of the commune extended to her daughter, inch by inch.
Does your ex-husband marry another? She calmly collected evidence and asked him to leave the house and pay alimony. Someone has an idea for my daughter? She returned the gift in person with rapeseed oil in hand, and said it all in front of the people in the commune. The adobe house was leaky and it took her more than ten years to turn it into the first individual clinic in the town.
From 1965 to the new century, Zhao Weihua only did one thing in his life - to turn the ending that died in the book into a reunion that no one can take away.
Three generations, two medical certificates, and a wall full of banners. The little girl who huddled in the hospital bed and did not dare to cry lived until her hair turned gray and became another doctor in a white coat.
This is a story about a mother who protects her daughter, the clinic, and her heart, and never retreats.
