Morning Sun in Wuhan by Ying Chang Compestine

Author:Ying Chang Compestine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

舍己为公

Sacrifice one’s interests for the greater good

JANUARY 28, 2020, LATE MORNING

“Grandma’s in the hospital,” Ming says in a quiet voice.

“How is she?”

“Not good.”

“I have some medicine for her! Can I bring it over?”

“There is no need; she can’t eat or drink anymore.”

Guilt washes over me. If only I had made it to his apartment before the ambulance.

“I am so sorry about Grandma, Ming. Are you okay?” I ask softly. “I was there and saw you get in the ambulance.”

“Yes, they took us all to the hospital to get tested.” Ming pauses, choking on his words. “We’re fine, but m-my father wants us to leave with the American . . . evacuation plane, but my mother wants to stay to take care of Grandma, and I . . . want to stay with her.”

“Do you want to meet . . . ?” I look out the window, calculating where I can slip past the fence.

“They closed up our neighborhood. No one can get out.”

I try to think of something to say to lift his spirits.

Ping! A Discord notification.

TigerHong:

Wanna play Chop Chop?

That’s it! Computer games always cheer me up.

“Ming, let’s play Chop Chop. You’ll feel better after killing some zombies.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“C’mon! It’ll take your mind off things.”

“Okay. You go ahead. I will join you in a bit.”

“I can talk more if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. See you soon.” Ming hangs up.

I send a message to Hong.

EmpressMei:

Yah, I’ll be there.

TigerHong:

I’m playing with two guests. You can join anytime.

I turn on invisible spectator mode and join them, curious about how they’re doing. The two guest players, Steamer and Meatball, are from Hong’s school, a grade below us. They have been begging to join our team. The boys are making kung pao chicken. Hong, as head chef, is cutting chicken. Meatball, the sous chef, dumps way too much cornstarch into the marinade. Steamer, the kitchen helper, pours the chicken into the wok before the oil is hot.

As I predicted, the meat sticks to the bottom of the wok and they lose the game quickly. I look at the full chat box. They have been babbling away like old ladies.

Hong sent a photo of himself in a Hawaiian shirt, sitting on a ladder next to the big aquarium in his living room, smiling. A goldfish hangs from his fishing rod.

TigerHong:

I’m bored . . . I caught all the fish in our aquarium, twice.

Meatball:

I beat my annoying brother at every ring-toss game. Borrrrriiiing.

Steamer:

I’ve become a ping pong CHAMPION.

My dad is too scared to play with me now.

I’m bored too.

That’s when an idea strikes me. Rather than be bored at home, why don’t we band together to do something useful? I could form a volunteer group with them!

As always, the hard part will be convincing them to go along with my plan. My thoughts slowly come together. I will make a proposition they can’t refuse. If they join my volunteer group and text me photos of them helping in their neighborhoods, I will grant them access to my special equipment and pick a winner to play head chef every day.

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