At sunset, Yan and Qinghe walked along the canal after the clinic shift. Stone crews carried new blocks toward the next barrier station. Children drew warning colors on a dry wall where the flood line had stopped.
A nearby house had lost its roof. The family’s storage jars remained beneath a stone arch. They stacked the first tiles while a clinic worker checked the well. Qinghe paused to ask the worker whether the water had stayed clear. He said the sample was clean but would be checked again in the morning.
“The clinic will need one team on this canal through the next storm season,” Qinghe said as they walked on.
Yan asked whether she still wanted the long table and daylight laboratory they had talked about before the final battle.
“Yes,” she said. “And a public teaching bench beside my research desk.”
He liked the plan. “Where do you want the shelves?”
“Close enough to reach from the desk. Not between the windows.”
They walked past the repair yard, where a crew was checking a stack of new stones. Qinghe described how she wanted her own desk and continued access to the clinic. Yan wanted room to practice without waking the whole house. They talked about a shared kitchen, separate work schedules, and a quiet room where students could test ordinary medicines without entering the forbidden manual room.
