Chapter 5: Sponge Bath

Lin Zhi had washed his grandfather every morning for two years, and he thought he knew how to wash a patient.

He had not washed a patient who was watching him do it.

"I'll do it myself," he told the day nurse, firmly. "He's my husband. The family said the bride attends the groom."

The day nurse was happy to hand over the basin.

He locked the inner door, filled the basin with warm water, and set a stack of clean towels on the bed.

"Eyes open," he said.

Zhaoran opened them and looked at the ceiling.

"Rule two," Lin Zhi reminded him. "Hands to yourself."

"Noted."

"I'm not enjoying this."

"I can see that," said Zhaoran. "You've gone red to the ears."

"It's warm in here."

"It's nineteen degrees."

Lin Zhi pulled the sheet down to the waist and undid the blue pajama top with fingers that were suddenly clumsy.

Nineteen months in bed had taken everything off the long frame.

The ribs stood out, and the collarbones.

A thin white scar ran across the left side of the chest where the glass had gone in.

Lin Zhi stopped for a moment.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not now."

He wrung the cloth and started at the shoulder, slowly, because his throat had gone tight and he did not trust his voice.

The skin under the cloth was pale and cool, and then not cool.

He washed the arm, the inside of the elbow, the wrist, the long palm that had held his hand last night.

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