Chapter 6: What the Hell Is a Surprise!

Some people were still worried: what if the county construction company wouldn't cover the expenses of seeking treatment in the provincial capital? But Weidong could only scoff at such concerns. Would you really forgo treatment just because it wasn't reimbursed? Yet, this truly was the way rural folks thought. If he hadn't had the money, perhaps he too would have been just as calculating. Now, with enough funds, he simply bulldozed through all obstacles.

Following the doctor's instructions, they carefully lifted Lao Rang onto a door plank as a makeshift stretcher. Even the doctors expressed their approval of such an "improvised stretcher," with extra reminders: "If you go to the hospital in the provincial capital, you’d best try the military hospital. They see injuries like this all the time. We hardly treat a few such cases in an entire year." Weidong nodded his thanks, his calm demeanor prompting the doctor to pat his shoulder in encouragement.

He decided to bring his mother along as well, though in truth, the extra cost meant nothing to Weidong now. His attitude left the relatives at the bus station sighing in amazement after they sent off the stretcher.

"How come Dongwa looks like a completely different person now?"

"A kid who's been educated really is different."

"Doesn’t he have the air of those township officials? Even the doctors can talk to him."

Indeed, even the ticket seller on the long-distance bus discussed with Weidong, flashing a mouthful of white teeth, how best to place the “stretcher.” In the end, the two young men sat cross-legged in the aisle, the door plank resting on their thighs as a cushion.

Bandaged like a mummy, Lao Rang lay back, gazing up at his son, trying to speak but awkwardly unable to open his mouth. Weidong quietly dampened some cotton with water and wiped his father's cracked lips. Lao Rang surely couldn’t fathom a thousand times over how this rascal of a son had suddenly become so thoughtful.

Goudan held the IV bottle with painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs, which the doctor had provided, along with instructions for Weidong to change it himself. Their mother, sitting behind them, could hardly believe how her son had suddenly taken on everything. Just days ago, he’d only known how to study and play ball; now he was a man who could shoulder burdens.

In a daze, they followed the young men to Shangzhou. After buying tickets, their conspicuous “stretcher” even earned them priority boarding on the ferry. People were still simple and honest in those days.

Weidong, in his own straightforward way, bought two fourth-class berths and two fifth-class seats—though a single berth was enough to get all four into the cabin. Lao Rang was laid on the lower bunk, the door plank hidden beneath the bed, and their mother slept on the upper bunk. The two young men took reed mats and slept outside on the tin deck. Goudan, too excited to sleep, explored all five floors of the ship and reported back that the top floor was off-limits, the fourth floor housed second- and third-class cabins, and there was a restaurant at the stern.

Before boarding, they’d had a bowl of tofu rice at the dock. That night, Weidong took Goudan to the ship’s restaurant at the stern for a bowl of noodles with minced pork sauce for twenty-five cents. Goudan even licked the bowl clean! Weidong decided that as long as the surgery funds sufficed, he’d treat the boy to a good meal in the provincial capital—and bring some noodles back for his parents as well.

Money really did make life easier.

As expected, the next morning when they arrived at the dock, while queuing to disembark, Weidong casually described to Goudan the sweet steamed buns sold at the entrance of the city hospital. Goudan, carrying the door plank, practically flew ahead. If Weidong hadn’t been so robust himself, Lao Rang might have suffered a second injury! Their mother had to hurry along behind, basket on her back.

It was three stops from the dock to the city’s central hospital. Weidong had already considered that crowds on the provincial capital’s buses would make it tricky to transport the door plank, so he’d enlisted Goudan’s help to carry it together. Three or four miles, and neither even broke a sweat—hauling a hundred-plus pound man and a sturdy youth, the two of them delivered Lao Rang in no time.

Weidong, full of nerves, now clearly appreciated the value of having help. His mother and childhood friend guarded the stretcher, the three of them like meat buns anchoring the spot—more effective than Sun Wukong’s magic circle.

He registered, queued, and paid the fees, drawing on the occasional hospital visits he’d made in his previous life. During a lull in line, he even asked other patients’ families for directions to the military hospital, though it was a good ten or twenty miles out in the suburbs.

He decided to try the affiliated hospital of the medical college first; he remembered it had a strong reputation. He also knew, very clearly, that paying extra for a professor or specialist was worth it.

After waiting three or four hours, and carrying his father for an X-ray—since there was no CT or MRI in those days—the process was much simpler than expected.

An experienced old professor glanced at the previous county hospital diagnosis and compared the two sets of images, sighing, “Why did you come only now…”

Weidong’s heart sank—was it already too late? Was his father’s fate unchangeable? His mother nearly fell to her knees, begging the doctor for mercy.

But the professor continued, “It’s after hours. We’ll have to do the surgery tomorrow.”

Weidong almost choked on the dramatic pause. “As long as it can be done, that’s all that matters!”

The old professor felt Lao Rang’s waist and immediately diagnosed: “It’s a spinal contusion—pooled blood is pressing on the spinal cord. Surgery is needed right away to drain it. If you wait until the blood clots and the nerves die, the paralysis will be permanent.”

His mother didn’t understand the terms, only standing bewildered by the stretcher. But Weidong, with his middle school science background and later knowledge, understood exactly what was happening. “We’ll pay the fees and arrange for the operation immediately,” he said without hesitation.

The old doctor smiled approvingly at the bright-eyed, upright country youth and wrote out the forms. Two hundred yuan deposit for hospitalization, with surgery estimated at one hundred eighty, including hospitalization, care, and medication—all of which could be settled afterward.

Weidong was as elated as Goudan eating meat buns. Only he understood how lucky they were that his father could have the chance to escape a lifetime of disability. Even if he’d be left with lingering issues and unable to do heavy labor, it was a world of difference.

Seeing her son like this, his mother couldn’t help but weep with joy.

After settling Lao Rang in the ward and hiding the door plank under the bed, Weidong quietly took out two slabs of cured pork and put them in the basket. He hesitated—should he give them to the doctors? These days, it was already common to bring gifts when seeking help; he’d seen it often enough in the tax bureau compound. But he’d never done it himself and wasn’t that slick.

He decided to turn the pork into cash first—it was always good to have money on hand. From his previous scouting, Weidong had noticed a cluster of residential lanes near the inpatient wing’s side entrance, with several small eateries, noodle stalls, and fruit shops catering to patients’ nutritional needs. The demand in the provincial capital was much stronger and more robust.

He found a small shop that didn’t require ration tickets and ordered a plate each of fish-flavored shredded pork, stir-fried pork with garlic shoots, tomato scrambled eggs, and a vegetable soup. The aroma of the cooking had Goudan’s mouth watering.

In later years, ordering takeout would be normal, but in those days, even city dwellers couldn’t often afford restaurant meals, let alone country folk like them. Weidong was acting out of habit from his past life, but the real reason was simply that he had the money.

He watched the cook, who doubled as waiter, bustle about, then served the dishes and gestured for Goudan to dig in. Only then did Weidong uncover a bit of the basket for the cook to see. “Would you be interested in some mountain-cured pork?”

The lean proprietor, wiping sweat and lighting a cigarette, leaned over and immediately recognized the goods. “Hey, that’s real cured pork. You didn’t steal it, did you?”

Goudan, already halfway through a bowl of rice, was too focused on picking out the meat to listen. It was delicious—he even pushed the large pieces toward Dongwa.

Weidong calmly took out the diagnosis papers. “We’re from a village below Shangzhou, come here for surgery. We brought some mountain goods to sell, since we don’t have money. Or do you know a better place to sell this?”

Just as the doctors had felt, though he looked like a strong country youth, he gave off an air of cultured steadiness. The shopkeeper fished out the pork. “How much do you have and how much do you want for it?”

Weidong held up six fingers. “We’ve got fifty or a hundred pounds, and can bring more if needed.”

The cook leaned in for a sniff. “Good stuff. My little place could maybe take twenty pounds at most. If you really want to sell, head to the wholesale market by the docks—there’s a farmers’ market in the middle. Farmers from all around bring their goods, and many workers, local officials, and restaurant or cafeteria owners shop there.”

Weidong held back from asking too many questions, not wanting to seem suspicious. Seeing Goudan had eaten two bowls but was still only half full, he filled his own bowl with meat and vegetables. “Take this up to my mother, and bring back a few more pieces of pork to make up twenty pounds.”

Goudan, satisfied, wiped his mouth, grabbed the food, and ran off. The cook, even more pleased, borrowed a scale from the neighboring fruit stand. “But be careful by the docks—there are lots of petty thieves and pickpockets, and watch out for con artists.”

On the way out, Weidong quietly slipped the four hundred yuan he’d managed to gather into his mother’s pocket for safekeeping. After Goudan had eaten five bowls and finished the last drop of soup and grease, he stayed by the hospital ward watching the door plank. Weidong, with only a dozen yuan in his pocket, set off alone to explore this unknown new map.

He was determined to find a solid way to keep selling the cured pork. At this point, he even felt that seeking out the legendary richest man was no longer important. At this rate, in a month he could become a ten-thousand-yuan household!

Now that would be a true surprise!