DLRAS Chapter 129 [Past]

Chapter 129: Chen Wengang turned his head away, feeling guilty.

The room was empty, save for the two of them: one a patient, the other physically whole.

Chen Wengang leaned against the pillows, his head tilted slightly to the side. A bandage pressed against his right eye. In place of the eyeball that should have been beneath, there was now only a prosthetic filler. His breathing was so shallow that the rise and fall of his chest was barely perceptible beneath the quilt.

Huo Niansheng pulled a chair over and sat by the bedside.

He softened his voice to a gentle whisper: “Try to get some sleep.”

The anesthesia had not yet fully worn off. Whether Chen Wengang heard him or not, he said nothing. His consciousness seemed to drift far outside his own physical shell, his complexion as pale as a sheet of paper. After a while, Chen Wengang closed his eyes of his own accord.

His breathing grew even fainter.

Huo Niansheng leaned forward, watching him for so long that he couldn’t help but reach out a finger to check if he was still breathing.

After watching for an unknown duration, Huo Niansheng stood up. With both hands in his pockets, he paced back and forth in the room as if on a leisurely stroll. He went out to change into slippers, his footsteps completely muffled by the carpet. He stopped at the window, gazing downward for a while, his thoughts unreadable.

Amanda arrived. She didn’t dare knock hard, only lowering her voice to urge her employer to rest, offering to watch over the patient in his stead.

Huo Niansheng glanced at her, signaling that it wasn’t necessary.

Every trace of a smile had vanished from his face; he looked as stern and solemn as if he had just stepped away from a negotiation table.

She retreated tactfully, no longer interrupting.

Huo Niansheng paced the room a few more times. Before the caregiver returned, he felt something in his pocket and pulled it out—a bright red protective amulet. He held it up, inspecting it for a long while, arched his eyebrows, sighed, and then gently tucked it under Chen Wengang’s pillow.

Even after waking up, Chen Wengang refused to speak.

Before he went into surgery, Huo Niansheng had still been able to crack a few jokes, intentionally seeking out lighthearted topics. But after losing his right eye, it was as if most of his spirit had been drained away. He expressed his resistance through silence, completely refusing to communicate with the world.

After the surgery, Chen Wengang’s right eye was removed, and his left eye had only recovered a weak amount of vision.

Even Huo Niansheng had no particularly good way to deal with this. The surgeon was the best ophthalmologist in the hospital, a top expert in the field. He could only say cautiously that he had done his best. The extent of a patient’s recovery had a great deal to do with their own mental and physical state.

Chen Wengang was dispirited, and clearly, his mental and physical state was far from the optimism the doctors had hoped for.

Huo Niansheng, on the other hand, was garrulous, as if the spirit of the household’s previous housekeeper had possessed him.

Chen Wengang saw the amulet, which Huo Niansheng later tied to a hook on the headboard. He chattered incessantly, searching for topics: talking about the spectacular scenes of people fighting for the first incense of the Lunar New Year, how many men, women, and children had queued outside all night; talking about how popular Ning’an Temple was and how much it was favored by the wealthy. After a while, he would ask Chen Wengang if he was bored, or if he wanted to play cards.

As long as Chen Wengang replied with a word or two, Huo Niansheng could continue talking on his own without pause.

On the night of the Lantern Festival, Huo Niansheng and Chen Wengang watched television in the hospital room.

They first watched the evening news, where behind the reporter on the scene, there were grand carriages and brilliant, fire-lit flowers, illuminating the joyful faces in the crowd. Then Huo Niansheng changed the channel, just in time for a rock superstar’s concert, roaring at the top of his lungs.

Suddenly, Chen Wengang said, “Could you help me buy a Braille tutorial?”

Huo Niansheng’s hand, which was holding the remote, paused for a moment before he said, “What do you want that for?”

“I want to learn,” Chen Wengang said.

Huo Niansheng propped his elbow on the sofa armrest. Chen Wengang was lying in his arms as he spoke. His face was turned toward the screen, but he couldn’t really see much; he was just listening to the sound. Huo Niansheng put down the remote and smoothed the hair on Chen Wengang’s forehead.

For once, he was calm and gentle. “Don’t jump to the worst conclusions. The sky isn’t falling; it’s nothing to worry about.”

Then he added, “Your eye—I say it can get better, so it definitely will. Do you believe me? Want to bet?”

Chen Wengang opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Huo Niansheng pressed his index finger to his lips.

He leaned down and captured Chen Wengang’s lips.

They pressed together—it was less like a kiss and more like two fish trying to keep each other moist in a drying puddle.

After they parted, Chen Wengang lay down, exhausted. This time he changed his position, curling up on the sofa, his eyelashes lowered. Huo Niansheng looked down at him; it seemed as if he had pulled his lips into an arc of a smile, but in reality, there was only the arc—no smile materialized.

“It will get better,” Huo Niansheng said.

Chen Wengang, pillowing his head on his own arm, looked up at Huo Niansheng from that low angle.

Half of his face was uneven and scarred, and his remaining eye couldn’t see clearly, his gaze unfocused. Yet, somewhere deep within those eyes, there remained a childlike innocence—traces of the pain he had endured, but devoid of resentment or bitterness.

The rock music on the television continued to blare. After a long moment, Chen Wengang said, “It won’t.”

Huo Niansheng smiled and didn’t respond to his pessimism.

But regardless, having reached this point, there was no way he could let go.

Even if the worst were to happen, even if Chen Wengang were truly to go blind, they would simply have to bear that misfortune together. Huo Niansheng was prepared to take care of him for a lifetime. If Chen Wengang wanted to read books or newspapers, Huo Niansheng could read them to him. If Chen Wengang wanted to go somewhere, Huo Niansheng would take him. He was willing to shoulder all the trouble. Perhaps they would be bound together like this for the rest of their lives.

Unbidden, Huo Niansheng remembered the first time he had met Chen Wengang.

He had seen that child, teased him, swung on a swing with him. He had never imagined where fate would eventually lead them. But if he could have foreseen the future, he would have made a wish: he would have hoped that Chen Wengang could grow up well and never suffer any harm.

Chen Wengang fell asleep, one hand dangling off the edge of the sofa. Huo Niansheng scooped him up and placed him on the bed.

Fortunately, the worst-case scenario did not come to pass.

According to the doctor, Chen Wengang’s remaining eye could still be saved.

However, when he was discharged, his vision recovery was not ideal. When they returned to the Horizon Mansion and entered the elevator, Chen Wengang nearly tripped. Huo Niansheng reached out quickly to steady him, but Chen Wengang immediately shook off his hand.

He realized what he had done, then looked up, glancing at Huo Niansheng’s expression.

Huo Niansheng seemed to notice nothing. He appeared quite happy, opening the door and exclaiming how good it was to be home.

The caregiver had also returned with them. He helped carry their luggage and bags, tidied things up, and familiarized himself with the apartment environment. But for reasons unknown, Huo Niansheng did not have him stay in the house.

During the day, the caregiver followed Chen Wengang closely; at night, after Huo Niansheng came home, the caregiver would leave. Then Huo Niansheng would take over, caring for the patient personally. Every day, he came to the Horizon Mansion to live a life day-in and day-out with Chen Wengang. Chen Wengang had not gone blind, but his vision had not returned to its original level either. To him, the world was a series of blurry outlines and blocks of color. In daily life, he still needed a lot of help. Huo Niansheng helped him wash his hair and bathe, poured him water, and gave him his medicine.

Lunch and dinner were prepared by domestic staff who came over; as for breakfast, sometimes Huo Niansheng went out to the street to buy it, and sometimes he studied how to make simple food himself. There were pre-made items in the refrigerator; he could process them—heat a steamer of buns and shao mai, fry an egg and some bacon, or make a sandwich. These weren’t hard to learn. He even seemed to take a joyless, tireless pleasure in it.

At some point, this place really began to feel like a home to him.

Racecourses, nightclubs, wineries, clubs, golf courses—Huo Niansheng’s presence in these places gradually grew rare.

For two consecutive months, he did not show his face, and those tabloids began to miss their old acquaintance, Young Master Huo. After some analysis, they came to an astonishing conclusion: he really seemed to have settled down, playing the game of domestic bliss with his current lover.

A social media marketing account claimed to have witnessed him exiting a supermarket, walking and talking on the phone, carrying shopping bags in his hand.

Naturally, most people remained skeptical, more willing to believe that this was just a temporary whim.

But even so, it was remarkable, whoever had the ability to hold him in the palm of their hand.

Regardless of how noisy the outside world was, Chen Wengang lived in seclusion. He didn’t read much news, and these things had little impact on him.

After he was discharged, Huo Zhenfei came to visit once more, but he didn’t even get to see the man.

When Huo Zhenfei arrived, Chen Wengang was sleeping in the room. Huo Niansheng was free, so he invited his cousin into the house, without the slightest intention of going inside to wake him. He simply accompanied him for two drinks in the living room.

Huo Zhenfei glanced toward the bedroom several times. The door to the guest room was tightly shut, like a strictly guarded restricted area.

This, naturally, did not escape Huo Niansheng’s notice. He teased Huo Zhenfei, “So interested in someone else’s bedroom?”

Huo Zhenfei smiled, took a sip of whiskey, and tasted the cool malt and smoky flavor.

He leaned toward Huo Niansheng, but his tone was very serious as he asked about his future plans.

Huo Niansheng held the glass, carefully studying the patterns on the rim. “What future plans?”

“I mean his condition—when exactly will he get better? How do you plan to arrange things for him in the future?”

“I don’t know, and there’s no rush. I’ll just look after him for now. I haven’t even thought about it, yet you’re thinking so much for me.”

“You’ve been looking after him for two years already,” Huo Zhenfei said suddenly, looking at Huo Niansheng with concern. “You brought him into your home—looking after him for a day or two, or a month or two, I could understand. But I didn’t expect that two years later, he would still be with you.”

Huo Niansheng laughed upon hearing this and looked at him, asking, “I’m happy to do it, so that’s not allowed either?”

Huo Zhenfei began to bring up the past. “It was like this last year for the New Year—you ran off on the first day of the year, and it’s the same this year. It was a perfectly good opportunity to be together, yet you didn’t even finish the holiday. Whenever he has the slightest issue, you get all nervous and run back. That day we burned the first incense to pay respects to Grandfather—the whole family was there, and only you slipped away. Father even asked what kind of emergency was so urgent that you had to leave right away, and I had to find an excuse to smooth things over for you. I didn’t even have time to ask then—did it really have to be you who went back? Have all your assistants and drivers resigned? In such a big city as Jincheng, you couldn’t find a single person to help send him to the hospital?”

“The deceased and a living person!” Huo Niansheng said dismissively. “Which is more important?”

Huo Zhenfei said, “Are you the surgeon? Would it make any difference if you were there or not?”

Huo Niansheng gave a strange look. “That’s a novel argument. You couldn’t help your wife when she was giving birth, either. If you have time to lecture me, why don’t you go tell your wife that when she was giving birth, it made no difference whether you were waiting outside the delivery room or not?”

He wore a look of utter derision. Huo Zhenfei stepped back, trying to make amends, indicating that he had just spoken in haste and it was an unintentional offense. Huo Niansheng finished his drink and did not confront him again. The two of them poured two more drinks and said no more of these matters. The two cousins were relatively close among their peers, but some things could be said, while others were overstepping boundaries.

Huo Zhenfei took his leave.

Huo Niansheng pushed open the bedroom door and walked in on tiptoe to check on Chen Wengang.

Chen Wengang was lying on the bed with his back to him, his whole body wrapped in the thin quilt, exposing only a section of his fair ankle.

But he wasn’t actually asleep; he sat up the moment he heard footsteps. The room was well-insulated, so he shouldn’t have heard any noise from the living room. Huo Niansheng sat on the edge of the bed and asked nonchalantly, “What do you want to eat tonight?”

It took a while before Chen Wengang answered slowly, “Anything is fine.”

“Anything is the hardest to deal with,” Huo Niansheng said.

Chen Wengang thought for a long time, but failed to decide. Ultimately, after Huo Niansheng provided two options, he designated one of them.

His notebook was on the nightstand—the one Chen Wengang used to draw in, which Huo Niansheng had placed there for him. Huo Niansheng picked it up casually, flipped through it, and saw that the progress was still stuck on the page from last year; there wasn’t a single extra sketch.

Even after last year’s calendar was used up, Chen Wengang no longer marked off new days.

Huo Niansheng put it back without a change in expression. He suddenly had an idea. “Tomorrow, let’s go to the seaside.”

Chen Wengang still seemed hesitant, as if he wasn’t very willing to go out. But before he could find an excuse to refuse, Huo Niansheng spoke for himself and went to the walk-in closet to find clothes for him to wear. The closet was now filled with Chen Wengang’s clothes for all four seasons.

Huo Niansheng dug out a wide striped shirt and a pair of casual trousers.

The next day, they really did go to the seaside for a drive.

Huo Niansheng parked the car on the side of the road and, holding Chen Wengang’s hand, slid down the steep steps.

Black reefs stood like a forest on the beach, and a lonely lighthouse with a blue roof and white walls stood in the distance. The sea breeze whipped against their faces, carrying the damp, salty scent from the depths of the ocean. This area was all breakwater, not a scenic spot, and no tourists were in sight. There was only the distant figure of a person like a black dot holding a fishing rod, and looking even further, a small boat floated on the sea, with people fishing on it as well.

Chen Wengang leaned on the railing, while Huo Niansheng also braced his right hand on the railing and put his left arm around Chen Wengang’s shoulder.

Between the vast heaven and earth, there were only the few of them, each busy with their own affairs, without interfering with one another.

The ocean surged endlessly.

It was so deep, so vast, and so desolate that in its presence, those unfulfilled desires and inextinguishable pains of the mundane world were too small to be worth mentioning. After looking at it for a long time, Chen Wengang let out a faint sigh.

He gazed at the blurry horizon, behind which lay many islands—a distant place he did not know.

Huo Niansheng chatted with him as usual. On this day, Chen Wengang actually responded, and he too said many things.

They stayed from daytime until sunset. Later, when they were tired of standing, they went down and sat on the rocks, staying like that for the whole day.

In the end, Chen Wengang suddenly expressed his desire to leave.

Huo Niansheng did not speak for a moment.

He asked Chen Wengang in a joking tone what was going on, and why he suddenly brought that up again.

Unlike the previous times, this time Chen Wengang’s attitude was firm. He wasn’t just talking; he was practically preparing to take action. Huo Zhenfei could realize it, and he could realize it too. He had dragged Huo Niansheng down for two years; their story had already dragged on for too long.

He couldn’t bring himself to draw the stopping point, out of nothing but selfishness, but every play must have a day when it reaches its conclusion.

Huo Niansheng did not agree. The night sky above their heads was deep, and countless stars were twinkling.

He said vaguely, “We’ll see.”

Before leaving, Huo Niansheng picked up an oddly shaped stone on the beach, saying he would take it back to keep as a collection.

They walked back one after the other, got into the car, and went home.

No matter how Chen Wengang reasoned, Huo Niansheng suddenly displayed a strong desire for control. He wouldn’t nod his head, and the two even entered a situation similar to a cold war for the first time. Huo Niansheng even stated bluntly that he didn’t think Chen Wengang could survive on his own—this had nothing to do with his face, his vision, his physical condition, or his ability to work. In Huo Niansheng’s eyes, he was like a leaking balloon, floating aimlessly, unable even to drift with the wind, yet he delusionally thought he could run off somewhere on his own.

But Chen Wengang disappeared on an unremarkable day.

It was rainy in the summer, and the meteorological observatory issued an orange alert for rainstorms. From the afternoon to the evening, the city would see heavy to torrential rains, with wind speeds expected to reach force six, reminding the general public to be careful when traveling and to avoid falling objects.

On the way home, Huo Niansheng’s driver drove very slowly, saying it was a bit congested.

Black clouds hung low over the city, as if a torrential rain was about to fall at any moment. After struggling to get out of the traffic, they passed a traffic light. In front of them hung a speed limit sign for a school zone. They stopped in front of the pedestrian crossing, and a line of elementary school students in yellow hats held hands and lined up to cross the road.

Returning to the apartment, Huo Niansheng turned on the lights. The interior was empty, filled only with silence.

He called out “Wengang” a few times.

No one answered.

When the caregiver received the call, he was very confused. Under Huo Niansheng’s questioning, he nervously reported his schedule for the day.

In the morning, the caregiver had sent Chen Wengang for acupuncture—usually, Huo Niansheng took him, but today he had something to attend to, so the caregiver stood in for him. After they returned to the Horizon Mansion, Chen Wengang said it was about to rain, so he told the caregiver to go home early, since Huo Niansheng would be back soon anyway.

His disappearance had not a single warning sign, yet it carried the implication of being long-planned.

On the other end of the phone, the caregiver’s voice became uneasy. He asked his employer if he should call the police.

Huo Niansheng was silent for a moment and told him to stand by. Then he hung up the phone and opened a mobile app, where a blue dot appeared on the map.

He had set up a feature on Chen Wengang’s phone that allowed his location to be pushed directly to Huo Niansheng’s phone. Chen Wengang knew about it and had shown an attitude of indifference at the time. As if destined by fate, it suddenly came in handy.

The branches and leaves of the trees swayed to and fro, pedestrians walked in a hurry, and the smell of cold rain was already in the air.

Huo Niansheng stared at everyone outside the window, his face as cold as ice.

The driver, who had been called back, conscientiously pressed the horn and the accelerator constantly, driving at the speed limit of the downtown area. They moved away from the city center, and the car speed increased again. The blue dot representing Chen Wengang was still moving slowly on the map; he must have taken some form of transportation.

Chen Wengang’s location stopped. His location was by the seaside, and for a long time, it didn’t move at all.

As they approached, Huo Niansheng called for a stop.

As soon as the Rolls-Royce pulled over, Huo Niansheng got out of the car, slammed the door, and jogged away.

This was the same coastline where he and Chen Wengang had gone for a drive last time, just a different spot.

This section of the breakwater became very steep, straight up and down, with the black sea just below the railing. It was past four in the afternoon, and the weather was dark, already as dim as dusk. The waves were blown high and urgent, slamming against the breakwater, roaring in a heart-stopping manner.

Chen Wengang was sitting on the railing, his shoulders thin, the gusty wind filling his clothes.

Even if he didn’t let go, it seemed as if he could be blown off at any moment.

Huo Niansheng held his breath. He approached little by little from behind, and only when he was close enough did he softly call out: “Wengang.”

His voice was swept away by the wind as soon as it left his mouth, and his ears were filled with the roaring sound of the wind.

But Chen Wengang had already realized he had come. He turned his head and locked eyes with Huo Niansheng.

Compared to Huo Niansheng, Chen Wengang was strangely calm.

A few hours ago, he really had wanted to end it all. Whether it was on a whim or something he had thought about for a long time, he had sent the caregiver away, locked the door, and took the elevator downstairs. He was familiar with the terrain nearby, endured the stares of passersby to board a bus, and traveled all the way to the seaside.

But Chen Wengang stared at his phone, knowing his account was linked to Huo Niansheng’s. He didn’t know when Huo Niansheng would discover he wasn’t there; if he discovered it early, he would likely rush over in a few hours.

He suddenly wanted to see Huo Niansheng one last time, as if it were his last obsession.

Until that familiar figure really entered his vision, Chen Wengang was as if awakened from a dream. Amidst the chaotic thoughts, his reason suddenly returned—he was simply crazy. He didn’t even know what he was thinking. How could he jump in front of Huo Niansheng?

But flashing through his mind was another thought that had just risen and been pushed back down: would Huo Niansheng remember him?

The other person approached step by step, and Chen Wengang remained motionless. He waited patiently. When he was within reach, Huo Niansheng lunged forward. Chen Wengang actually offered no resistance, and was easily pulled down by him like a light feather.

Huo Niansheng gripped him tightly, practically dragging him all the way back. They returned to the car, Huo Niansheng opened the door, pushed Chen Wengang in, and followed him inside. Chen Wengang was thrown into an uncomfortable position; before he could adjust, he was pinned down.

Huo Niansheng raised his hand and slapped his buttocks.

He scolded Chen Wengang: “Has no one taught you that climbing high and low is dangerous?”

Chen Wengang seemed somewhat surprised, looked at him, and then closed his eyes, saying nothing. He had created such a farce, so it was only right for Huo Niansheng to lose his temper. Huo Niansheng was still in the heat of his anger and slapped him two more times. The driver in the front row was similarly silent, as if there were no third person in the car at all.

Chen Wengang’s fingers curled. He heard the whistling wind locked outside the window, which only made the car more quiet. Only Huo Niansheng was speaking, questioning Chen Wengang about whether he had any common sense of safety, asking if he knew he couldn’t sit on the railing, but he didn’t mention his subjective intentions at all. As if this were just a whim of Chen Wengang, willfully running out to watch the sea in such ghostly weather.

Huo Niansheng regained his calm and ordered the driver to drive. Old Li immediately turned the key and started the car.

On the return trip, a torrential rain fell.

Just like the day Chen Wengang first came to the Horizon Mansion.

Before Old Li left, Chen Wengang apologized for causing him unnecessary work.

From the basement to the elevator, Huo Niansheng gripped his wrist tightly all the way, without the slightest intention of relaxing. They returned home, Huo Niansheng pushed Chen Wengang’s shoulder, telling him to go in. Chen Wengang changed into slippers, and he seemed to let out a subtle sigh of relief.

Chen Wengang sat curled on the sofa, hugging his knees, watching Huo Niansheng go in and out of the kitchen.

Huo Niansheng had already lectured him, and after returning home, he didn’t mention it again. Although those few slaps and a few scolding words were as light as child’s play as a punishment compared to the nature of Chen Wengang’s actions. The rain outside was too heavy, so Huo Niansheng simply cooked something himself. He defrosted the minced meat in the refrigerator, cooked a pot of porridge, added a dish of fermented bean curd, and then told Chen Wengang to wash his hands and come to the table.

After the meal, the bowls and dishes piled up on the table, Chen Wengang stood up and reached out to clean them up.

He put the tableware into the dishwasher, washed and dried his hands, and when he turned around, Huo Niansheng was leaning against the door frame, watching him quietly.

Huo Niansheng took him into his arms, as if holding something extremely fragile.

He kissed the top of Chen Wengang’s hair and then bowed his head to kiss his eyelids.

Chen Wengang’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

He hugged Huo Niansheng and sobbed in a low voice, which lasted for quite a while. Huo Niansheng had never seen him cry before, not even in the most difficult times. Chen Wengang buried his face in his arms, tears rolling out one by one, as if he were extremely slow to react, and all the sadness and grievances had been delayed for a long time before catching up. Huo Niansheng held him, patting his back, and comforted him in a low voice.

They lay on the bed, warming each other with their body temperature, the torrential rain rushing down and washing the world.

Huo Niansheng might have hoped that the day’s events would also be washed away by the rain, as if nothing had happened at all.

Later, Chen Wengang also promised not to “run away from home” again. He could choose not to delve into it, but some things were understood in their hearts, like undercurrents hidden beneath a calm river, held back but not released.

The caregiver followed Chen Wengang more cautiously, not letting him leave his sight for a moment.

Safety hazards in the house were also eliminated one by one: the knife rack in the kitchen was placed in a cupboard, and the cupboard was fitted with a password lock; the floor-to-ceiling windows were also locked, turning them into a state where they could no longer be pushed open; the razor in the bathroom was replaced with an non-detachable electric one.

In the entire apartment, it was becoming increasingly difficult to find a pair of scissors, a lighter, or even a piece of metal rod.

Huo Niansheng spent more and more time at home, doing his best to accompany Chen Wengang. His performance could already be described as gentle.

But gentleness could not stop Chen Wengang; even he himself might not be able to stop himself.

He committed a second extreme act—Chen Wengang took a few Cefuroxime tablets and then managed to open the wine cabinet.

Taking cephalosporin drugs and alcohol at the same time can cause a disulfiram-like reaction, which can lead to shock or death in severe cases.

Fortunately, the caregiver discovered it in time, and the ambulance rushed him to the hospital for a stomach wash.

When Chen Wengang woke up, the IV needle was already taped to the back of his hand. Someone was talking to the doctor outside. He lay on the hospital bed, feeling nauseous, wanting to vomit, and feeling extremely dizzy. After a while, the door pushed open and Huo Niansheng came in, pulled a chair over, and sat by the head of the bed.

For a long time afterward, Chen Wengang found it hard to forget his expression at that moment.

Huo Niansheng was not angry, not helpless, nor was he indifferent; he just stared at Chen Wengang for a long time, his face peaceful.

He leaned down and spoke softly to Chen Wengang, without a single heavy punctuation mark.

Chen Wengang turned his head away, feeling sorry for him.

When he was able to sit up this time, someone brought a thick set of assessment forms for him to fill out.

Chen Wengang filled them out twice.

The result of the first time was mild depression and mild anxiety tendencies. A day later, the person who asked him to fill out the form sent another one, patiently advising him to fill it out truthfully. After he recovered a bit, he was transferred to the psychiatric department for a more comprehensive examination.

He had an EEG, a brain CT, an ECG, blood tests, and liver, kidney, and thyroid function tests.

Severe depression and severe anxiety, accompanied by serious somatic symptoms and cognitive impairment.

This result was not easy, but it seemed to provide an answer at last, which was better than bumping around in a trap without a solution.

Since there was an illness, it could be treated. The doctor’s suggestion was drug therapy.

However, most psychiatric drugs are accompanied by serious side effects. Huo Niansheng opened a box of Paroxetine Hydrochloride. He studied the excessively long instruction manual and saw: headache, nausea, loss of appetite, decreased libido, liver and kidney damage…

He asked the doctor, “Can’t you prescribe some milder medicine? Imported drugs? Are there any that aren’t so agonizing?”

The doctor explained in the hallway, “Mr. Huo, it’s not a question of money. If the patient didn’t need it, we certainly wouldn’t prescribe it casually. Most psychiatric drugs act on the central nervous system. Think about it, how could there be one that causes no harm?”

Chen Wengang sat on the sofa, still in the position of curling his knees, watching the two people outside discuss.

When Huo Niansheng came back in, he still had his cynical look. He put his hands in his pockets and threw several boxes of medicine onto the table. As a result, one box slid too far and fell to the floor. He bent down to pick it up, stood in front of the table not knowing what he was thinking, and finally let out a long sigh.

When Huo Niansheng turned around, he joked helplessly, “Baby, you really are here to hold me back.”

Chen Wengang put his legs down from the sofa. He opened his mouth, and whatever he originally wanted to say was stopped by this call.

He looked at Huo Niansheng, as if he couldn’t react, or as if he didn’t understand his attitude. Huo Niansheng walked over. He was unprecedentedly gentle and soft-spoken, holding and twisting Chen Wengang, playing with a lock of his hair: “Then try taking them? If you don’t feel well, we’ll stop.”

Chen Wengang did not object; besides, he had no choice. This was to be responsible for himself and the people around him.

He nodded.

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