Fang Zichen resembled a man who had just been dragged from a river, his hair a wild mess and his clothes soaked and creased, as though he'd been set upon and thoroughly beaten.
"Husband?"
"Zhao Ger, you... damn, how did you end up like this?" Fang Zichen had just exclaimed in surprise when Zhao Ger rushed over and hugged him tightly, as if wanting to meld him into his very bones and blood again.
"Husband..."
Before, his stance had been very stable, but this time Fang Zichen staggered back two steps in succession, his body seemed very weak. "Don't hug me anymore, Zhao Ger. Quickly find me a physician!"
Zhao Ger hurriedly let go of him: "What's wrong?"
Fang Zichen just opened his mouth to speak when he vomited a mouthful of blood first.
"Husband~" Zhao Ger was terrified. Only now did he see clearly: there was a large stain of blood on his chest.
He hurriedly helped Fang Zichen back to the room and onto the bed. The moment he lay down, the last of Fang Zichen's strength deserted him, his body going limp like a pricked balloon.
Guaizai wiped his tears: "What's wrong with father?"
Zhao Ger had no time to deal with him and ran out the door.
Guaizai didn't chase after him. He climbed onto the bed again, covered Fang Zichen with a quilt, then lay down beside him, hugging his neck tightly.
Fang Zichen's breath was weak, and he coughed: "Son, go... go get father... some water."
"Okay, father wait for Guaizai. Father don't sleep."
The barefoot physician arrived very quickly.
He just felt that he had been particularly connected with Fang Zichen's household these past two days.
He had been here twice in just two days. This family fell ill more frequently than others.
Farming families were poor and usually very careful, afraid of getting sick and spending hard-earned money. Throughout the year, one rarely saw them catch a fever or a chill.
But the Fang family was different. Rich families were just willful, they could get sick so easily. Yesterday it was Zhao Ger, today it was Fang Zichen.
As if they had agreed to take turns, afraid that he, an old man, couldn't earn any silver and would starve or something?
And it was always late at night, when he was already in bed.
If it were anyone else, he would have spat long ago, but this time he didn't dare.
He thought it was a common headache or fever, but seeing Fang Zichen's half-dead appearance, he felt it was a bit serious. After taking his pulse, his eyes widened: "Did you give him medicine?"
Zhao Ger, not understanding: "No."
"No? Then what's going on with him?" The old physician said: "Quickly, take him to town! If it's too late, it will cost him his life."
The joy of regaining what was lost hadn't even fully risen before he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
Zhao Ger's body went weak, his legs limp and powerless, his head spinning fiercely. He swayed a couple of times, then stumbled and ran to the village chief's house.
The oxcart was borrowed quickly.
Fang Zichen was carried onto the oxcart. He opened his dazed eyes. Seeing the village chief about to flick the whip and set off, he said weakly: "Cover me... with a quilt. I'm so cold."
His body was utterly spent, his strength completely gone. In this state, he might not even survive the journey to town.
Guaizai lay on his stomach: "Father, Guaizai will keep you warm. Father not cold."
Fang Zichen: "......"
He was already struggling for breath, a crushing weight on his chest.
And now this...
Thanks a lot, son.
If you get any heavier, your father will breathe his last right here on this cart.
Zhao Ger held his hand tightly, not speaking.
The village chief was worried the whole way. When they reached the outskirts of Fu'an Town and saw the town gates tightly shut, he frowned anxiously and said: "What do we do now?"
He thought about going to negotiate, but before he could get close, the soldiers on the wall shouted: "Who goes there? What do you want?"
"Sir, this old man is the village chief of Xiaohe Village. My junior has a critical illness and needs to enter town to find a physician. I beg you to open the gate."
The soldier naturally did not permit it.
The town's curfew was strict. If everyone were like this, wouldn't it be chaos?
Just as he was about to shoo them away, an old soldier glanced at the oxcart: "Is that young Fang?"
"Ah? Boss Fang? Can't be, it's so late at night."
"No, no, looking at that figure, it really seems like young Fang."
The old soldier shouted: "Who is on the cart?"
Fang Zichen was annoyed, mustering a breath: "Your father."
Village Chief: "......"
Zhao Ger: "......"
The old soldier hurried down and opened the town gate.
The soldier saw Fang Zichen, a far cry from his usual self-assured and vibrant demeanor, now lying ghost-like on the cart. He immediately urged: "Hurry, hurry, go to Jishi hall."
[Jishi (济世): to aid the world]
Just hearing the name of this medical hall, one knew it was opened by charitable people. Ordinary medical halls 'did not receive guests' in the middle of the night. If one knocked on the door and looked shabby, they might even get scolded.
The old soldier ran ahead. He knocked on the door, and a young attendant peeked out: "Uncle, are you here for medical treatment?"
"Yes! Where is Physician Xu?" The old soldier rushed inside, heading straight for the backyard: "Physician Xu, help! My father is dying!"
"Coming, coming," Physician Xu was just putting on his clothes when the old soldier pulled him out: "Don't bother dressing, quickly go see my father, he's dying!"
Once outside, the medical hall was empty. Physician Xu, with his clothes in disarray, asked: "Where is your father?"
The old soldier stammered in reply: "He... he hasn't arrived yet!"
Physician Xu: "......"
The oxcart was slow. The old soldier, hardened by years of marching, moved with such speed that his two legs outpaced the ox's four hooves.
Arriving outside the medical hall, Zhao Ger's body was weak. He wanted to carry Fang Zichen on his back, but as soon as he stood up, he felt dizzy.
The village chief, without much thought, seeing his pale and haggard face, took over carrying Fang Zichen.
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