The early days of summer bathed the city in warm sunlight. Walking through the streets, Shen Xi Fan tilted her head up, letting the rays touch her face.
She smiled and silently said, Goodbye. The breeze felt refreshing, the sunlight especially comforting. Her sorrow had faded, and even the faint bitterness had evaporated, leaving behind only a shadow to bury deep in her heart.
Days like this, she thought, should be called “Banxia” (半夏)—“half summer.” It was warm and lingering but without the stifling heat.
What a tender name.
If He Su Ye knew, he would undoubtedly tell her, “Banxia is a traditional Chinese medicine. There’s ginger Banxia, prepared Banxia, fermented Banxia, and bamboo extract Banxia. It dries dampness, resolves phlegm, calms nausea, and disperses masses. Formulas like Banxia Baizhu Tianma Decoction and Banxia Houpu Decoction use it.”
The thought made Shen Xi Fan chuckle—such a typical doctor’s occupational habit. But where is he now? She hadn’t seen him in a long time.
Deciding to buy some summer clothes, she also planned to get a few items for her parents—a final gesture of filial piety before leaving.
At the men’s section, she picked out shirts for her father while her mother fussed beside her. “Your father only likes cotton, but he insists on machine washing everything, so it all pills after a while.” She picked up a navy shirt. “He doesn’t like light colors—always dark ones.”
Shen Xi Fan suppressed a laugh. She planned to visit the sportswear section and buy her dad a bright red T-shirt, hoping it would make him feel youthful again.
Suddenly, her gaze fell on a white shirt—simple in design but quite expensive. It reminded her of the one He Su Ye had worn at Li Jie’s wedding. That day, he had only worn an ordinary white shirt and suit, having been warned by Qiu Tian not to overshadow the groom. Yet to her, no one there shone as brightly as he did. His understated, natural charisma was captivating, leaving her utterly spellbound.
She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen—no messages, no missed calls. She sighed softly, a trace of disappointment she couldn’t quite name tugging at her heart.
He had only said he was going to the mountains, without specifying for how long. The uncertainty left her vaguely uneasy, his absence lingering in her thoughts.
When she returned home, her aunt’s family had come to visit. Only her little nephew was missing. Her cousin-in-law sighed, “After dinner, he said his stomach hurt and felt like vomiting, so I didn’t bring him. I’ll buy him some medicine on the way home, and if it doesn’t get better, we might need to go to the ER.”
Shen’s mother nodded thoughtfully. “Vomiting may seem minor, but it can sometimes be serious. Why not see a traditional Chinese medicine doctor?” Suddenly, she seemed to remember something. “I have a bunch of medicinal recipes at home. Fan Fan, go fetch them for them to check.”
Shen Xi Fan frowned. “When did I start collecting Chinese medicine recipes? All I’ve ever dealt with is insomnia and a fever.”
Her mother explained, “Oh, remember that book with the recipes tucked inside? Someone returned it to you a few days ago, saying they’d borrowed it. I flipped through it later and saw a bunch of recipes. I thought they might be yours, so I just left it on your bookshelf.”
Eyes widening in disbelief, Shen Xi Fan rushed to find the book. It was a book on Chinese medicine, with a thick stack of handwritten prescriptions sandwiched between its pages. She had carelessly tossed it onto a pile of reference books. Without her mother’s reminder, she would have completely overlooked it.
She flipped through the prescriptions one by one. Each was meticulously labeled: “cold,” “fever,” “cough,” “stomachache,” “vomiting,” “fatigue,” “headache.” At the bottom of each was a doctor’s signature: He Su Ye.
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