Village Doctor's Women-Chapter 141 - 136 Youthful Thoughts

"You know why I’ve come this time."

Peng Qing paused when he saw Cai Xing look toward Cai Qiong, then said, "This young man you spoke of might be my last straw. When I received the critical condition notice, I didn’t hide it from him."

Cai Xing gave him a puzzled look. He knew the "him" Peng Qing referred to was his son. Sure enough, Peng Qing continued, "That boy... even though he’s only in his teens, he understands everything. There’s no need to hide things from him. When he heard the news, he showed no emotion at all, as if he’d known all along this would be the outcome. You’re a father too. You should understand how I felt. Tell me, after I’ve struggled my whole life, I end up with this. Was it all worth it?"

The bloodshot veins in Peng Qing’s eyes became more pronounced, and Cai Xing even noticed his hands were trembling. In his early years, Peng Qing had spent very little time with his child.

Cai Xing knew his old classmate well. No matter how composed and calm Peng Qing appeared on the surface, it never reflected his true inner state. And now, even this man could no longer hide the emotional turbulence within.

Was it worth it?

Cai Xing had often pondered that same question. The only difference was that in his family, he was the one who was sick, not his child. If their situations were reversed, he knew he would be in no better state. But the boy... he was the one to be pitied.

Peng Pingan was the name of Peng Qing’s son. It was a very ordinary name, but it represented the deepest hopes of Peng Qing and his wife. Unfortunately, that hope had never been realized.

"That Wang Jian... his village is just over half an hour from here," Cai Xing said. "If you’re in a hurry, we can go find him today. Or we could have him come here."

Before Cai Xing could finish, Peng Qing cut him off. "No, forget it."

Cai Xing was startled. "Why?"

Peng Qing forced a wry smile and said softly, "Let Ping An rest for a few days. He’s been confined to a hospital bed for so long. It’s rare for him to get out..."

Following Peng Qing’s gaze, Cai Xing turned to see his friend’s eyes fixed only on his son; it was clear why he hadn’t even gone to his company.

Cai Xing sighed inwardly, wondering how the boy had managed all these years. He understood, at least partly. Though Peng Qing clung to a glimmer of hope for a cure, it was likely fading fast. Despair seemed to have taken root in the hearts of father and son. Even with his recommendation of a doctor like Wang Jian, Peng Qing hadn’t realized that he was, in fact, afraid.

Yes. Cai Xing saw fear in his old friend’s eyes.

He knew this old classmate so well. Over the years, not even the near bankruptcy of his company had been able to crush the man’s spirit. Before today, Cai Xing would have said the word ’despair’ didn’t even exist in Peng Qing’s vocabulary.

But there was no helping it now. Peng Qing still held on to a tiny sliver of hope, but...

Cai Xing looked at Peng Pingan. Although the boy was chatting and laughing with Cai Qiong, Cai Xing could see no light in his eyes. This largely explained the gloomy, lifeless aura Cai Xing had sensed from him earlier. A boy in his early teens should be brimming with youthful energy...

"I haven’t seen him smile in a long time," Peng Qing said. "So... it would be good to let him rest for at least one day."

Without waiting for Cai Xing to reply, Peng Qing walked back toward his son. He exchanged a glance and a faint smile with Cai Qiong before squatting down in front of the wheelchair.

"What are you two talking about that’s so fun?"

Peng Qing patted Peng Pingan’s head, then began adjusting his clothes to cover some exposed skin. The dark bruises there were obvious, and around his elbow, the marks left by IV catheters were still visible. These were the scars on a fourteen-year-old boy. Peng Pingan had delicate features, but due to his illness, he looked no older than ten. Boys already develop later than girls, and his sickness made him seem underdeveloped to outsiders, like a small child.

A short buzz cut clung to his scalp, and a faint circular mark was visible at his temple—the telltale sign of an EEG or something similar. Every part of the boy’s body seemed to radiate pain.

Seeing his father approach, Peng Pingan managed a smile. "Dad, Sister Qiong and I were just talking about school."

School...

A flicker of heartache crossed Peng Qing’s eyes. Since his illness manifested at age ten, Peng Pingan had been completely cut off from school.

If there’s still a chance, I’ll make sure he gets to live the life he deserves.

Peng Qing forced a smile as well and, together with Cai Qiong, chatted with his son about school for a while.

Peng Qing and Peng Pingan spent the day at the Cai residence, finally retiring to their rooms in the afternoon. Their rooms were on the second floor of the Cai’s Villa, and the balcony window opened up to a perfect view of the mountains behind them.

By now, the mist had returned, shrouding the distant mountain peaks in clouds. But the villa’s location was excellent; it offered a beautiful view while keeping the dampness at bay.

Peng Qing sat beside Peng Pingan, and together they watched the mountain scenery. "When your Uncle Cai built this house, he consulted a feng shui master," Peng Qing explained softly. "That’s why this location is so good. It blocks the mist that rolls down from the mountains, which keeps the dampness out. It’s a truly fine place. Much better than that awful place we had abroad."

"Look over there," Peng Qing pointed to a distant peak. "Just past that mountain, not too far off, there’s a Daoist Temple. I went there when I was a kid."

Peng Qing recalled many stories from his youth, mostly about his time in the countryside with Cai Xing, and even mentioned some tales about tomb raiding. Peng Pingan listened quietly the entire time, occasionally taking a puff from his respirator.

"Dad."

"What is it? Not enough oxygen?" Peng Qing asked hastily, already rising to his feet.

"No, it’s not that," Peng Pingan said. "There’s just something I want to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time."

Hearing this, a sense of foreboding washed over Peng Qing.

Peng Pingan continued, "You said we came here for me to recuperate. That was a lie, wasn’t it?"

"Ah?"

"I’ve gotten used to it over the years," Peng Pingan said, his tone eerily calm, as if he were discussing someone else’s life. "My illness can’t be cured. There’s no need to keep looking for doctors."

Peng Pingan had had enough.

"These marks on my body... I can’t even tell anymore if they’re from all the tests or from the illness itself. We’ve seen so many experts and professors. If it could be cured, it would have been by now. One more doctor or one less makes no difference. But one less doctor means a little less suffering for me..."

Peng Qing froze, looking down and seeing the look in his son’s eyes.

"I’ve accepted my fate, Dad."

A smile touched Peng Pingan’s lips, but Peng Qing felt no joy. Instead, it was as if a knife was twisting in his heart.

He knew that for Ping An to say something like this, it meant he had essentially chosen death.

Seeing his father’s expression, Peng Pingan’s smile grew wider. "Let’s just live however long we have left."

Peng Qing’s brow furrowed, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t dare let his son see the look on his face as tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes.

"Alright," he choked out. "Dad’s going out for a bit. If you need anything, just ask your Uncle Cai."

Peng Qing fled. He couldn’t let his son see him break down, and he had no idea how to respond to such words.

If his son had leukemia or cancer, at least there would be a prognosis, a treatment plan. But this...

He stumbled to a stop just outside the room, covering his face and crying quietly. After a moment, he went to a washroom to splash water on his face, then left the house with his eyes still red and swollen.

He had agreed on the surface because he knew Peng Pingan’s body couldn’t withstand any more torment, but he hadn’t completely given up hope. He hadn’t told Ping An about his plan to see Wang Jian. His reasoning was simple: if Wang Jian was another dead end, at least Ping An wouldn’t have to suffer through the cycle of hope and disappointment one more time.

So after dinner, he entrusted Ping An to Cai Xing and Cai Qiong’s care and left the house alone. His destination was Wang Jian’s clinic. He needed to see this young man for himself, setting aside questions of his character or medical skills for now. Considering his son’s feelings, he felt he absolutely had to speak with Wang Jian in advance, no matter the outcome.

As Peng Qing stepped out of the Cai’s Villa, the last rays of the setting sun bathed him in light. The warmth of the summer evening felt like a sharp blade, piercing the despair in his heart and bringing a sliver of warmth.

If there’s really a way to cure him, it would be the greatest fortune. But if not... even just easing his pain would be enough.