After I Learned That I Was Terminally Ill, I Called My Mother, Whom I Hadn't Seen in Ten Years.

The window at the end of the hospital corridor was half-open, and the late spring wind carried willow catkins drifting in and fell into the air solidified by disinfectant. When Mu Feng counted the seventh camphor leaf to fall, the attending physician's pen paused on the diagnosis, and the ink blurred out a small sun on the word "grade" of "astrocytoma grade four".