The second the surgery light turned on, the sharp scent of cleaner made me dizzy for a brief moment.
I suddenly saw eighteen-year-old Rosalie clearly.
She always sat in the front row of the classroom, spine straight like a ruler.
Her collar had been washed until it faded, worn down into tiny loose threads.
Once, she ran a high fever and skipped lessons for three days. When I finally found her, she was sorting trash by the roadside.
I pushed five thousand yuan into her bag.
She chased after me across three streets to give it back, voice rough. “Kaegan, please let me keep some pride.”
After that, I only “by chance” brought an extra breakfast, and “along the way” lent her study notes.
On the night of the Winter Solstice, she carried two roasted sweet potatoes in her pocket.
In the minus-ten cold wind, she waited outside the dorm until the lights went out, and the first line she spoke when she saw me was:
“Keagan, can I ask you to wait for me?”
Many years later, she rose from nothing and brought her company to the market.