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墨書 Inktalez
People tend to seek good fortune and avoid misfortune. He completely forgot how terrifying the consequences would have been if I hadn't intervened to prevent the company from cremating a living person. He also forgot about the thick stack of red bills that Mr. Zhao had handed over in gratitude.
On the fourteenth day after he told me to get lost, Mr. Zhao came knocking again.
Having taken care of my mother's affairs, Mr. Zhao appeared dignified, accompanied by his driver and bodyguard.
The plump Boss Chen hurried out upon hearing the commotion: “Mr. Zhao, what brings you here…?”
— In the funeral business, one can never say "welcome" or "goodbye."
Mr. Zhao ignored him, scanning the surroundings: “Where is Xiao Lin Brothers?”
His tone didn’t sound like he was here to cause trouble.
Chen Senran's mind raced; he didn’t dare mention that I had been dismissed and forced a smile: “The kid is young; he mentioned feeling homesick these past few days, so I approved a half-month leave for him!”
Mr. Zhao didn’t seem pleased with Chen Senran’s demeanor and replied expressionlessly: “Do you have his phone number?”
Chen Senran: “He doesn’t have a phone…”
He only paid me a basic salary of 1500 yuan per month according to the intern standard, plus meals and accommodation (the small bed in the employee lounge was sufficient for sleeping; Boss Chen didn’t even need to hire someone to guard the place at night), so I couldn’t afford a phone.
Mr. Zhao looked somewhat disinterested but still patiently asked: “Do you know where he lives?”
Chen Senran’s tense expression eased a bit: “Let me check his ID copy…”
Soon, a BMW 7 Series sped towards Anbei County, a satellite city of Jiangcheng.
Different social strata have their own circles; Mr. Zhao’s business empire isn’t small, but it’s not large either. In the eyes of many big shots, he is “just a supermarket owner.” Mr. Zhao needs higher-level individuals to support his development…
The Deputy Director of the Business Bureau, surnamed Jiang, has been Mr. Zhao’s benefactor and mentor since his entrepreneurial beginnings. Whether for the future or the past, Deputy Director Jiang is crucial to Mr. Zhao’s career.
At 68 years old, Father Jiang has fallen ill. Eight years ago, he was diagnosed with a lipoma and has undergone several surgeries since, but it keeps recurring afterward.
Major hospitals inside and outside the province have examined him; both attending physicians and department heads have concluded: “Let’s proceed with surgery!” But surgery only treats the symptoms, not the root cause!
Having lost his spouse early on, the old man worked hard to raise his child alone. His child is filial, and life has been rewarding for him; he doesn’t want to pass away prematurely, but this illness is truly tormenting: severe pain in multiple areas! While it’s not life-threatening, it significantly diminishes one’s quality of life.
Mr. Zhao has also worried about Elder Jiang’s illness but hasn’t found effective treatment options yet. Now that I’ve performed a miraculous revival for his mother, Mr. Zhao seems revitalized.
Perhaps this half-grown child could bring him an unexpected surprise.
Arriving at Lin Family Village, Mr. Zhao had shed the restraint he showed in front of Wangji Funeral Company Boss Chen. He inquired until he found my home and entered the courtyard just as I was training shirtless on a sandbag that was larger than three basketballs combined. An elderly man in his seventies or eighties watched from the side, leaning on a cane with white hair and beard.
Mr. Zhao could only watch the commotion, but his bodyguard was tense: "I don't even have any protective gear on! The force behind a single punch that creates a dent like that isn't something you can train in just a few years."
When Grandpa saw someone approaching, he waved his cane and said, "Alright, let's call it a day."
Mr. Zhao hurried forward, "Old man, I'm here to find this young brother..."
As I wiped the sweat off with a towel, I stepped forward, "Mr. Zhao, what brings you here?"
Grandpa welcomed him, "A guest from afar should come in for some tea."
The bodyguard took a pile of gifts from the trunk of the car and respectfully placed them inside before stepping out.
After sipping a couple of cups of tea, Mr. Zhao eagerly handed over the medical records to indicate his purpose.
Grandpa scrutinized the documents for a while before passing them to me, "Do you have confidence?"
I read through the records thoroughly, "It should be fine!"
The old man raised his cane, "You're not being modest!"
I wasn't afraid either, "Just being realistic."
The old man stopped rambling, "Alright, they’ve come all this way. Don’t embarrass me."
Seeing that it was getting late and realizing I wouldn’t be coming back today, I went inside to pack a few clothes into a bag and headed out with Mr. Zhao and the others.
By dusk, we arrived at Jiangcheng Xishan Villa District and turned into a courtyard halfway up the mountain.
A middle-aged woman greeted us, dressed in a qipao with permed hair. A delicate chain adorned her neck, and a green bracelet graced her left wrist. From her presence, I fully understood what my language teacher meant by extraordinary taste, high class, and elegant demeanor...
She was Deputy Director Jiang's wife.
The woman didn’t comment on my attire; she merely paused for a moment on my youthful face, slightly furrowing her brow before smiling and saying, "Thank you for your hard work on the way here. Please come in."
In a large room on the second floor, even before entering, we could hear Grandpa's voice: "I’m not going under the knife anymore..."
Then came Deputy Director Jiang's low and coaxing tone: "Dad, this time it's Traditional Chinese Medicine; Xiao Zhao's mother was already in her coffin when he managed to treat her with just one needle..."
Grandpa seemed even angrier: "You can’t find a good doctor and start trying to fool me? What you're talking about isn’t human; it’s divine! Do you think I would believe your nonsense?"
At that moment, the three of us walked in.
The old man looked at the doorway with amusement: "Your wife can't treat illnesses; Xiao Zhao can't treat illnesses; you’re not going to say this little kid is an expert now, are you?"
Deputy Director Jiang seemed prepared but was still taken aback by my age; his eyes conveyed disbelief: When did Xiao Zhao become so unreliable?
Seeing Mr. Zhao and me at a loss for words, Elder Jiang suddenly had an epiphany: "Since we're all here now, don’t just stand there—let’s get started."
I put aside my nervousness and began to conduct a serious examination of Old Man Jiang. Below his navel, on his abdomen and the inner sides of his thighs, there were a total of eight lipomas of varying sizes, the largest as big as an almond and the smallest like a peanut.
After asking about his bowel movements, dietary habits, and examining his tongue coating, I took out paper and pen to write a prescription: 6 grams of Ephedra, 6 grams of Cinnamon Twig, 15 grams of Zhe Bei Mu, 15 grams of Soapthorn, 30 grams of Selfheal Herb, 9 grams of Dried Tangerine Peel, 9 grams of Ginger Pinellia, 3 grams of White Mustard Seed, 20 grams of Atractylodes, 20 grams of Poria, and 9 grams of Licorice. I also wrote down the method for decoction.
Old Man Jiang glanced at the prescription with a hint of resignation: "Alright, alright. Anyway, traditional Chinese medicine won't kill me. I might as well consider myself a little guinea pig..."
After finishing the prescription for Old Man Jiang and leaving the villa area, Mr. Zhao asked with concern, "Is everything alright?"
—Well, whether it's alright or not, we'll just have to wait and see.
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