C55 Part5

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A White-Clad Angel and White-Robed Army

The food that was served in Gu Wei’s hospital cafeteria varied wildly from dish to dish: the good ones were so good it was as if the chef had just gotten married and was celebrating; the bad ones were bad enough you’d think the chef just got dumped by his girlfriend. Which kind you got, however, was a matter of chance. Unfortunately, the odds of experiencing the former were infinitely smaller than the odds of experiencing the latter.

So whenever time and energy permitted, Gu Wei and his compatriots often preferred to bring their own meals, making whatever they felt like eating. The head nurse often sighed: “The world is turning on its head: the men (doctors) bring their own meals, and the women (nurses) all order takeaway.”

Once, when the canteen was undergoing renovations, Gu Wei was very busy, and had no taste for the food establishments nearby. I happened to be on leave then, so I volunteered to cook for him. While I was cooking in the morning, he pushed open the kitchen door and called out sleepily: “Wifey…”

It was the first time he had called me that. He moved next to me, as if he had just called his soul back from its wanderings, and stared at the food in the pot, blinking slowly. Only when I had packed the food into a lunch box did he open his mouth to say, enunciating clearly, “Can I get this to go?”

“Alright,” I said, “You can take it all with you.”

Gu Wei immediately took the lunch box with him.

At noon, on his way to heat the food up, he ran into Chen Cong, who asked, “Did your wife make that?”

Gu Wei: “Mmhm.”

Chen Cong tutted. “Look at you living the high life.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Chen Cong was carrying his takeaway lunch in one hand, an apple in the other, and a box of yoghurt wedged under an arm. “We can swap?” He offered.

“You can keep it. I’ll continue on my own simple path and eat my simple food.”

Gu Wei spent the weekend of his 30th birthday celebrating with his family. On the day itself, however, he was abducted by the “White Robed Army” after work.

The alcohol was all but untouched by everyone except Gu Wei, who drank half a glass, to get his money’s worth. I was surprised that they could be this rambunctious without the help of alcohol–oftentimes with people it was under the influence that they revealed themselves, suddenly and awkwardly, like a fart.

Chen Cong stood there holding the cake box with an evil smirk on his face, and I knew that they were up to some mischief. I thought to myself, at least blow out some candles and sing a birthday song before you smash it.

They, of course, did away with that part entirely. The moment he lifted the box lid, I felt as if my vision went blank—-

When it comes to birthdays, there are the people who will put buttercream on you, like countless other normal people around the world; there are people who smash cakes, those are probably the odd person you will pass on the street, who enjoys cheap thrills; there are people who smash bread, that would be the one and only, weird Sansan; but have you ever heard of a dough smasher?!

This bunch of scoundrels used their professional knowledge to its fullest potential for this prank, carefully crafting their dough to the perfect consistency, adjusting it with a thickening agent, such as syrup. After it had risen, they had thrown the entire box at each other—-it was too sticky to wipe off, or even wash off!

Being with Gu Wei brought me many of such exasperated sighs and surprises.

The two of us, having been lead right into this trap, could only look at the normal cake that they eventually brought out miserably.

Afterward, I couldn’t count the number of times I attempted to wash it off in the cubicle of the bathroom, to no avail. The way Gu Wei and I looked, we would definitely be stopped by traffic police on our way back, no matter who was driving. Chen Cong guiltily called us a taxi. “I really didn’t know how potent it would be,” he told us, “Really, I even looked it up online.”

I said to him boldly, “Next time I see you, you’re dead!”