Chapter Fifty-Five: Lending a Hand to the Very End

Old Zhou and his wife nodded earnestly, their eyes fixed on Master. Master glanced at Zhou Shengxue, who lay upon the hospital bed, and spoke, “First, your son’s condition has improved, but he needs a few more days of quiet rest. Is he still attending school?”

Old Zhou replied that he was. Master nodded and continued, “Apply for leave on his behalf; let him recuperate at home for a while. Moreover, you can request discharge tonight and return home. Tomorrow morning, buy a large rooster and keep it at home, or get a black dog. I'm sure you’ve heard of these remedies, so I won’t elaborate further. Second, within seven days, bathe him with mugwort leaves to dispel lingering evil energy. If the negative energy remains within him, the consequences will be dire—remember this well. Third, on the first and fifteenth of every month, as well as during holidays, bring some paper offerings and incense to the riverside to pay respects. But take special care not to stand too close to the river when you do so. If you feel any discomfort, silently recite the calming mantra I’ve just taught you.”

At this point, Old Zhou nodded, asking, “Spiritual Treasure Heavenly Lord, comfort the body—is that right, benefactor?”

Master affirmed gently. Old Zhou then inquired, “Can we perform the rites by the lakeside or riverbank, or is it strictly by the river?”

“Anywhere with water, as long as the area is spacious enough,” Master replied.

After Old Zhou and his wife committed Master’s instructions to memory, Master glanced at the clock on the wall and said, “Well then, it’s getting late. We’ll take our leave now.”

Master and I stood, as did Old Zhou, who said, “Um, benefactor, what about payment?”

“Payment? What payment?” Master responded, puzzled.

“You’ve helped us so much, but our family is poor and has nothing valuable to repay you. I have just over a thousand yuan on me—will that suffice? When I have more, I’ll make it up to you, truly.”

Having said this, Old Zhou took a plastic bag from his pocket, containing a thousand yuan in cash. He counted it and was about to hand it to Master, but Master refused, saying, “Old Zhou, rather than give me this money, buy some nourishing supplements for your son. Take it back—after all, we live in the same city, and helping each other is only right.”

Yet Old Zhou felt embarrassed and insisted on giving the money, but Master would not accept it. After much back-and-forth, Old Zhou finally put the money away.

“I feel awful about this. You’ve gone to so much trouble for us. Perhaps I can pay for your fuel?” Old Zhou suggested.

“No need for that either. Don’t be so formal with me. I said no, and I mean it. It’s late, we must be going. Take good care of your son,” Master said.

Old Zhou nodded and stowed the money away. As he was about to open the ward door, the doctor from earlier walked in and asked, “How is your son? Has he woken up yet?”

Without waiting for a reply, the doctor went to the bedside, listened to Zhou Shengxue’s heartbeat and pulse, and felt his forehead. Suddenly, he smiled and said, “Temperature is normal, heartbeat steady. Seems our medicine is working.”

The four of us felt awkward upon hearing this, though we didn’t show it. The doctor handed Old Zhou a bill, saying, “Here are the hospital and medical fees. Go settle them downstairs; the child needs to be observed for a few more days.”

Old Zhou stared at the bill in disbelief, his mind blank as he exclaimed, “A hundred thousand?! Why is it so expensive? My son’s only been here two hours—how can it cost so much?”

---

Old Zhou looked incredulously at the bill, but the doctor sneered and said, “Ha, what did you expect? We’ve given him the best medicine—you saw its effects, didn’t you? When he arrived, his hands and feet were cold; now, after the medicine, he’s normal again. You still think it’s expensive?”

Old Zhou was speechless, staring at the bill. His wife was at a loss. For ordinary people, perhaps a hundred thousand isn’t much, but for Old Zhou and his family, it was akin to fifty or a hundred times that.

The doctor, seeing their silence, became impatient. “Enough, hurry up and pay downstairs. There are many others waiting for that bed.”

With that, the doctor left the ward. Faced with the enormous sum, Old Zhou, who had just felt a bit of relief, was anxious again. He said, “What do we do now, Lan Fang? How much do we have left?”

“With your cash, only fifty thousand. We’re five short—what should we do, Old Zhou? Maybe we can borrow it?”

“Borrow? From whom? They all see me as poor, afraid I won’t be able to pay them back. Who would lend to me now?”

Old Zhou sighed deeply and sat down, clutching the bill tightly, his head bowed. I glanced at Master, who shrugged, took a card from his pocket, and went over to Old Zhou, saying, “This card has five hundred thousand. Take it for your son.”

Old Zhou looked up at the card in Master’s hand, hurriedly refusing, “Benefactor, no, I can’t accept it. I’ll find a way, there must be a way.”

“What way? Just take it. Don’t say anything else,” Master replied, slipping the card into Old Zhou’s jacket pocket.

Old Zhou was about to return it, but Master stopped him, saying, “If you truly care for your son, accept it. Consider it my help for your family.”

Old Zhou gazed at the card in his hand, silent for a long time. Eventually, his hands trembling, he said, “Benefactor, your kindness is beyond measure—I’ll work tirelessly to repay you.”

Master smiled and nodded. I knew the gesture was to ease Old Zhou’s burden. Old Zhou, holding the card and the bill, stood up to leave, but Master called him back.

“Old Zhou, where are you going?”

Old Zhou hesitated, glancing at the bill, “Benefactor, I’m going to pay.”

But Master laughed, went over, took the card and slipped it back into Old Zhou’s pocket, then took the bill from him. Old Zhou looked at Master, bewildered, as Master tore the bill in two and tossed the scraps into the trash.

“Who said I gave you the card to pay the hospital? The five hundred thousand is for your family. Don’t worry about the hospital; you can take your child home right now. No one will dare stop you.”

I smiled as I watched Master, then looked at Old Zhou and his wife. The couple was speechless, overwhelmed. Master patted Old Zhou’s shoulder, saying, “What are you waiting for? Pack up and let’s go. I’ll walk out with you—let’s see who dares block our way.”

---

Spurred by Master, Old Zhou didn’t think twice. He nodded repeatedly like a pecking chick and, together with his wife, quickly packed their things. He picked up his son and we all left the ward.

People passing by assumed the child had recovered and was being discharged, but for Master and me, we knew a confrontation was imminent.

We descended the stairs to the first floor. Old Zhou carried his son and happened to run into the doctor who had examined him earlier. The doctor was surprised, then walked over and asked, “Did you pay? I told you the child needs to stay for observation. What are you doing? Don’t you care about his recovery?”

Old Zhou was about to reply when Master stepped forward, smiling, “Sorry, the child is well, and we haven’t paid. We’re leaving—please step aside.”

The doctor was stunned, staring at us for a moment before saying, “What? Leaving without paying? Do you think this is your own house? This is a hospital. The child can be discharged, but the bill must be paid—or I’ll call security.”

“Doctor, your fee of a hundred thousand is simply too high. We can’t afford it, and we didn’t receive much treatment. How can it cost so much? Is one bottle of medicine worth a hundred thousand?” Old Zhou said.

“Too expensive? Electricity, water, bed, medicine—they all cost money. If you think it’s expensive, why come to the hospital? Let your child fend for himself, then.”

The doctor’s words were harsh, and Old Zhou and his wife, both honest people, were tongue-tied. By now, a crowd had begun to gather around us.

Master’s expression darkened. He said, “Your name is Wang, isn’t it? How did you pass medical school? Your words stink worse than dung. You shouldn’t be called Wang Neng, but Wang Turtle—it suits your temperament, wouldn’t you say, Doctor Wang?”

Master’s words left Doctor Wang dumbfounded. As he recovered, he shouted, “Hey, you can’t just insult people! Everyone, come see—our hospital took great care and cured this child, yet this man not only refuses to thank us, he insults us. What sort of logic is this? Everyone, judge for yourselves!”

With Doctor Wang’s shout, the crowd grew larger. Old Zhou and his wife were growing nervous, but Master remained calm and said, “Are you sure you want to ruin your career here?”

“What, who are you? Threatening me? Oh, I’m so scared. Stop pretending to be some big shot. Look at you—threatening me, fool.”

Hearing this, I knew Doctor Wang was finished. Of all people, he dared insult Master. I looked at Master, whose face was gradually growing colder, his smile faint and ambiguous. He said, “Whether I’m a big shot or not, we’ll discuss later. Call your director—I’ll speak with him.”

Upon hearing this, Doctor Wang continued in a mocking tone, “Calling the director? Our director is busy and doesn’t meet with nobodies. Either pay the bill or go to jail—your choice.”