Era of Magic and Martial Arts-Chapter 228 - 212: I Will Climb to the Top No Matter What
Doo doo doo, the call was disconnected.
The elderly woman moved slowly to the bedroom, rummaging through the bottom of a box to find a photo album. Her shriveled hands, marked by the passage of time, gently sifted through the items in the box, finally stopping at an old photo album.
On the title page of the album, a young couple and a baby in their arms came into view.
The elderly woman stared blankly for a while, before pulling herself back from her thoughts, gently placing the album down, and then retrieving a thin property deed from the bottom of the album.
She didn’t open the property deed, but holding it, she walked unsteadily to the living room, putting it into a woven shopping bag on the hallway table.
After thinking for a moment, she suddenly slapped her forehead and wobbled back to the room, searching out a bankbook, and stuffed it into the bag as well.
She sat at home for a while, her eyes blankly staring at the clock on the wall.
The second hand ticked away, making a rhythmic ticking sound.
It wasn’t until the clock chimed the hour that she slowly stood up, carrying the tote bag, and as usual, at this fixed time, she pushed the door open and stepped out of her home.
She walked very slowly, but steadily, first heading to the bank to handle some affairs.
The woman at the counter was beautifully made-up, even more beautiful than the photos of her when she was young. She thought, "It would be nice if my son could marry such a beautiful wife."
The elegant woman behind the counter looked at the elderly woman who spoke slowly, a hint of impatience flashing in her eyes, explaining coldly:
"This property has been around for a long time, it can’t be mortgaged at the current market price, it needs to be depreciated for calculation."
The elegant woman spoke as her long fingers flew quickly over the calculator, and then turned the displayed numbers towards the old woman.
The elderly woman leaned closer, her wrinkled face and cloudy eyes almost pressing against the spotless glass: "Is it just this much?"
The teller’s eyes showed a slight disdain as she replied:
"Auntie, that’s how it is. Whether it’s property or anything else, once it gets old, it’s not worth much. So, do you still want to mortgage it?"
"Yeah, once it gets old, it’s worthless," sighed the elderly woman, slowly pushing the property deed through the narrow slot in the glass.
The elegant woman completed a profitable transaction for her, a satisfied smile on her face as she asked, "Once the mortgage is successful, to which account should the funds be transferred?"
The elderly woman picked up a pen and wrote a string of numbers and a name on a piece of paper, smiling: "Wang Cong, my son’s name is Wang Cong, he works as a prison guard, just transfer the money to my son’s account."
The teller couldn’t understand why the old woman was telling her what her son did for work. Why would anyone care about such an ordinary occupation as a prison guard?
How odd!
She mechanically tapped on the keyboard, inputting the string of numbers and name into the system, then routinely had the old woman sign and press her fingerprint, completing all the formalities.
The elderly woman left the bank empty-handed, while the elegant woman waved, and a young security guard came over to sweep the tote bag forgotten on the counter into the trash bin.
The elderly woman moved even slower now, but still walked steadily.
She arrived at the hospital, walked through the crowded corridors, and entered the dreary ward.
Inside the ward, four patients lay quietly on their respective beds, tubes inserted into them, their eyes closed in a peaceful sleep, a stark contrast to the bustling world outside.
She slowly made her way to the innermost bed, gently sitting at the corner. Her hand tenderly grasped the withered, shriveled hand under the blanket.
Without speaking, she sat quietly, lost in her thoughts, until at some point she reluctantly let go and slowly moved to the head of the bed.
Her trembling hand grasped the tube inserted in the man’s nostril, murmuring:
"I know you don’t blame me. We can’t be a burden on our son; he will surely have a promising future."
Despite her hand shaking, she steadily pulled the tube out, her voice hoarse but speaking words to her beloved as if they were words of love:
"Don’t be afraid; wherever you go, I’ll be with you. Our son said he would buy a plot to bury us together."
Releasing the tube, the elderly woman sat back at the foot of the bed, one hand tightly holding the man’s calm hand, the other taking a handful of white pills from her pocket, slowly putting them in her mouth and swallowing them.
Ten minutes later.
Two nurses arrived late, pushing the door open.
The young nurse couldn’t help but cover her mouth, hurrying to the bedside, while the older nurse remained calm, accustomed to such a scene.
The young nurse asked, "They’re all dead. What should we do?"
The older nurse calmly replied, "First check if there’s a balance in the patient’s account."
The young nurse nodded, operating the tablet in her hand, and replied, "There’s still some money in the account, enough to last until the end of the month."
The older nurse gave a soft "oh" and then walked to the bedside, gently reinserting the previously pulled-out tube into the man’s nostril, her voice tinged with a hint of compassion:
"Since there’s money, we’ll keep his bed. Remember, our hospital doesn’t take advantage of the dead."
The young nurse looked at the older nurse with admiration, then turned her gaze to the fallen elderly woman on the bed, asking worriedly:
"But there’s only one bed, what about her?"
The older nurse contemplated for a moment and said:
"First, take her to the morgue for 24 hours. Then notify the family to retrieve the body as soon as possible. If they exceed the time, the crematorium will take care of it. The cost can be deducted from her husband’s bed fees."
As she spoke, the older nurse bent down, forcibly pulling apart the two tightly clenched, shriveled hands under the blanket.
In the prison.
The time slowly shifted to the afternoon.
In the corridor, Wang Cong answered the "mother’s" phone call, but strangely, a young woman’s unfamiliar voice came from the other end.
"Hello, are you the son of Wang Ping’an and Liu Xiujuan? This is the Fourth Hospital. I’m sorry to inform you that your parents passed away this afternoon..."
Wang Cong’s ears seemed swallowed by the abrupt silence, and he heard not a trace of sound from the phone.
He stood there like a statue against the corridor wall, his eyes hollow and bloodshot frozen into icy red.
"Hello, hello, are you listening?"
"Please pick up your mother’s body within 24 hours. Otherwise, our hospital will have to act according to regulations....."
Wang Cong snapped back, urgently speaking into the phone: "I can’t leave today or tomorrow. Could you..."
"I’m sorry, sir, but there are rules here. Most of the morgue beds are already booked by other patients’ families. Reserving a spot for your mother for 24 hours is already an act of humanitarian concern from our hospital, so please comply with hospital procedures."
Doo doo doo.....
The call ended with a dial tone.
Feng Mu stood not far away, his ears catching the voice from the call. He watched the desolate Wang Cong, his eyes narrowing to slits.
"What’s wrong? You don’t look well," Feng Mu asked with concern as he approached.
Wang Cong gripped his phone tightly, shoving it back into his pocket, taking deep breaths, his gaze almost devoid of whiteness, an alarming red.
Looking at Feng Mu, he spoke hoarsely:
"It’s nothing, I’ve just come to realize completely. There’s no way back for me anymore. I won’t fear anyone or anything. I won’t have any hesitation or confusion. I absolutely, must, and will, climb to the top of this prison at any cost."
