Chapter 21: Lu Feng

Lu Chen's water broke in the middle of the study.

He had been explaining why a nursery should have a filing system.

"Oh," he said.

He looked down at the carpet.

He looked at the clock, and then at the notebook in his hand.

Very calmly, he put the notebook down on the desk.

"Mrs. Su," he said. "I believe I am about to be late for something."

Mrs. Su dropped the tea tray.

It was the first thing Lu Chen had ever seen her drop.

She crossed the carpet and took his arm.

"Breathe. Walk. Don't think," she said. "I have done this once, and I made your father hold the bag."

"There is no bag."

"There is always a bag."

By the time the car reached the hospital the contractions had come four times.

Lu Chen counted them, because he could not help it.

Each time he got to a different number and lost it.

"Where is Su Yu?" he asked, between waves.

"He's on his way," said Mrs. Su. "He was in the garden. He was doing something with his hands."

"He's asleep."

"He is gardening."

"On the bench?"

"On the bench," Mrs. Su admitted. "With a trowel."

The delivery room was white and quiet and had a ceiling Lu Chen disliked at once.

A midwife with calm hands said, "Breathe, Mr. Lu," and he said, "I am breathing," and she said, "Louder."

Mrs. Su sat beside the bed in her cardigan and took his hand in both of hers.

It was a small hand, warm and dry, and it held on harder than he had expected.

"I'm not family," he said, in the next lull.

His voice came out raw.

"I'm sorry. I'm a guest. They should have called someone who"

"Lu Chen."

"I am only"

"Look at me."

He looked.