Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Everyone’s smiles in the bedroom froze instantly: "?" Where to go?

"Lie down, you need to rest!"

Almost in unison, the group of people, ignoring their usual respect for Mr. Zhao, blurted out.

The students looked at Zhao Qingyun, angry but not daring to speak, feeling both helpless and worried.

The principal, the most senior among them, stepped forward first, holding Zhao Qingyun's withered yet gradually warming hand, and advised, "Professor Zhao, please rest, take a good rest. I will apply for leave on your behalf. Your health is the foundation of everything."

Zhao Qingyun looked at the computer in front of him, still anxious. He could feel his body much more relaxed than before, after the treatment, realizing his life was barely hanging on.

But Zhao Qingyun did not know how many more days he could stay in this world. He wanted to make the most of his remaining time.

Zhao Qingyun tried to say to the principal, "I feel much better. You can push me there."

He spoke more easily and clearly now.

The principal, with his hands behind his back, looked at Dr. Wu with both joy and helplessness, "Dr. Wu, I’m at a loss here. Please take care of your patient."

Dr. Wu had encountered many stubborn patients who did not follow medical advice and handled them with ease. He smiled and said, "Professor Zhao, I really suggest you take a good rest for a few months. You’ve been given a few more years, at least seven, at most thirteen. But we’re all human. If you ruin your health again, even a miracle couldn’t save you."

"Seven" and "thirteen" hold significant meanings in Yin-Yang theory. "Seven" is seen as the boundary between Yin and Yang, and the term "first seven" after a person's death originates from this.

In ancient Chinese counting, the unit was the twelve earthly branches, and thirteen represents transcending reincarnation. In Buddhism, it also signifies the completion of merit.

As an ancient shaman, Dr. Wu naturally understood the Zhuyou technique, an ancient shamanic healing practice, which happens to be the thirteenth discipline in medicine. [Note]

This is also the maximum lifespan that Heaven can grant. All things in the world are not immortal, and all living beings must follow the laws of nature.

Everyone stared at Dr. Wu, stunned and disbelieving.

"At least seven years, at most thirteen more years?"

That’s a long time to live!

Many couldn't help but pinch their palms, the pain confirming this was real.

Just moments ago, the old man was on his deathbed, and in less than half an hour, it was said he could live another ten years! This feels like a dream!

Even Zhao Qingyun himself was stunned. He thought he had only six months left, at most a year before leaving, but now he has 7-13 more years?

This time is enough to train two more groups of outstanding students for the country!

But Dr. Wu also said, we’re only human. If he doesn't take care of himself, no one can save him.

Wang Lang, forgetting his status, immediately exclaimed, "Dr. Wu, don’t worry, I’ll make sure the professor stays in line, absolutely not letting him see a single cigarette!"

"I! I will supervise the professor's sleep. If he's not asleep by 22:00, I’ll shut off the lights! Yes, just like the student dormitory, I will cut off the power and internet." Another female student quickly followed.

The principal, still in disbelief, chimed in, "Then I must apply for a mandatory leave for Professor Zhao, to rest properly and stay in good spirits."

"Yes, and also..."

Zhao Qingyun looked at his students and colleagues, who were now opposing him, both amused and touched, knowing they meant well.

If, if he really could live another seven or even thirteen years, then he could afford to take it a little easier, rest for these few months, and review some materials in his free time.

"Dr. Wu, does Professor Zhao still need to continue chemotherapy for his lung cancer?" a student asked the key question.

They had witnessed the horror of cancer; the once robust Professor Zhao had drastically withered to skin and bones within a few months, and just a few days ago, he had even experienced symptoms of rectal bleeding. The cancer cells had already spread throughout his body, reaching an irreparable state.

If he wanted to continue living, should he still undergo chemotherapy? But if he continued chemotherapy, they were genuinely concerned that Professor Zhao wouldn't survive, let alone seven years, even seven months would be difficult.

Dr. Wu was surprised, "The disease is already cured, why continue chemotherapy?"

Everyone present was stunned, then burst into ecstatic laughter: "Fantastic, absolutely fantastic!"

The joyous laughter echoed outside the hospital room, leaving the waiting students and reporters completely baffled. What was going on?

Why were they laughing?

They had seen in the news elderly cancer patients who went traveling and then inexplicably recovered, assuming it was just a myth. Now it seemed there was a possibility, perhaps it was all due to heaven's grace.

Professor Zhao, propped up in the hospital bed, was a bit dazed. Could he continue living without suffering from the agony of advanced lung cancer? He had thought he could just hang on, even if tortured by illness or paralyzed in bed, as long as his brain could still function, it would be enough. He never expected to have the chance to become a healthy elderly gentleman once more.

Professor Zhao murmured, "What have I done to deserve this?"

What he had done in his life was only what he should have done. He was nurtured by the country since childhood, and now that he had achieved something, it was only natural to give back to the motherland. How could he be so favored by heaven?

Professor Zhao couldn't help feeling undeserving.

Since that was the case, he should dedicate himself to developing new missile technology for the country to be worthy of heaven and earth.

Dr. Wu emphasized, "So, Professor Zhao, I suggest you rest well and strictly adhere to the doctor's instructions."

The beaming principal was the first to step forward, "Understood, Professor Zhao says he understands and guarantees he will cooperate with the doctor's treatment."

The students cheered in agreement, "Yes, yes, yes, we all heard Professor Zhao say he understands, we will all act as overseers."

Professor Zhao: "..." Alright, let's just assume he did say it.

He did understand, Dr. Wu emphasized, to cherish this hard-earned health.

The mood by the sickbed was no longer somber, now filled with laughter and joy.

Dr. Wu then ceased interrupting the father and children, the teacher and students, and sat quietly aside writing prescriptions.

'Dad.' The youngest daughter, who had witnessed all this, cupped her face in her hands, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

Life is not necessarily happy, and death is not necessarily painful.

As children, they privately wished for their old father to rest.

In the eyes of others, Zhao Qingyun was the backbone of the country, a professor of great learning, but in their eyes, he was just a father, a neglectful husband and father.

Zhao Qingyun looked at his children standing by the bed, tears rolling down his cheeks, and as always, he chose the country and his ideals once again.

The son and daughter just looked at Zhao Qingyun, even though they had already planned what to do after the family reunited in the underworld, now it was all shattered, they couldn't even bring themselves to hug him, as the yin energy on them was harmful to the living.

The male ghost softly patted his sister's shoulder, trying to force a smile, and softly said, 'It's okay.'

'We will keep the house clean, waiting for Dad to reunite with us, there will always be a day we meet again.'

It was just a matter of time, and waiting was something their family was best at.

'Let's go, we've delayed the yin emissary for nothing.' The male ghost apologized to the disheartened Beijing big shot yin emissary.

The yin emissary quickly took out a black wooden badge resembling a work ID from his pocket and enthusiastically said to Zhao Qingyun, 'Mr. Zhao, this is my work ID. I am the yin emissary No. 014 from the North Beijing District, 014! 014! Remember, next time you call 014 in your dream! I’m always ready to escort you to the afterlife.'

That night, four disgruntled ghosts appeared.

'Alright, I’ve got it,' Zhao Qingyun said, his eyes blurred with tears as he watched his children depart with the yin emissary.

Did he regret it?

Zhao Qingyun was absolutely certain he wouldn’t regret it. Now, it was just him seeing his family off, which was better than everyone in the future watching their loved ones depart with nothing but grief and helplessness.

'Move it!' The Beijing big shot yin emissary grabbed Zhao Qingyun, who was chained to the iron railing, and said impatiently.

Zhao Qingyun had clearly seen everything that happened indoors and was filled with deep sorrow.

He had spent so much money and purchased so many years of life, yet he had only managed to survive for twenty years. The person inside had not spent a penny but gained thirteen years of life.

Both were human, yet the disparity was immense.

Zhao Qingyun couldn’t help but ask, 'Sir, I wonder if I could return to the world of the living for a few hours? I want to go back and change my will.'

His will naturally stated that his grandson would inherit, but now he knew that the grandson was not of his own bloodline, merely an outsider. It would be better to leave the property to his nephews and grandnephews who were related by blood. How could he hand over the property to an outsider?

The bond between grandfather and grandson had vanished at this moment. Zhao Qingyun’s love for his grandson was entirely based on bloodline.

Zhao Qingyun knew he had not been dead for long and wouldn’t be cremated so quickly. Besides, there were often news reports of corpses reanimating in funeral homes. Returning to the world of the living for a while probably wouldn’t cause any trouble.

The Beijing big shot yin emissary, in a bad mood due to the night’s work changes, shot him a cold glance and said, 'You want to return to the world of the living, but don’t the spirits who perished because you stole their years want to return? The deceased should stay out of the living’s affairs!'

'Once you’re down there, quit putting on airs of a rich magnate. You’ll face hardships soon enough. Let’s go!'

The yin emissary drew a whip from his lantern and lashed it directly at Zhao Qingyun.

Zhao Qingyun, who had never experienced such treatment, howled in agony. As Zhao Qingyun’s children looked on, he followed the yin emissary to the underworld.

As for how his grandson with no blood relation and nephews would fight over the property, he was no longer in any position to care.

*

Wu Heng handed the prescription to the principal and said, 'Take this medicine consistently for three months, before breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Maintain a positive mindset, and the spreading cancer cells will naturally disappear.'

The principal acknowledged and added, 'Dr. Wu, in a few days, the authorities will send you your consultation fee. Don’t worry.'

Wu Heng was indifferent about the fee; it was up to them.

Chen Zhao, upon hearing the principal mention the consultation fee, knew it wouldn’t be small. His eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but say, 'Dr. Wu, do you think I could become your disciple?'

Wu Heng looked at him and said, 'Sure, you’ve been busy all day. As your master, I’ll give you a 200-yuan subsidy.'

Chen Zhao fell silent and said, 'I think my current master is still quite good. I won’t switch mentors.'

Indeed, masters were all the same. Wu Heng, as a master, had become a skinflint! What a moral decline!

Wu Heng checked the time on his phone, felt it was getting late, and bid farewell to Zhao Qingyun and the others.

Xu Qian saw Wu Heng leaving and quickly caught up with him, following behind, hesitating to speak.

Wu Heng knew Xu Qian was in a difficult situation, burdened with a 200,000-yuan debt. He said, 'Next spring, if you have time, plant an apricot tree on campus. When it bears fruit, send me some as the consultation fee.'

Xu Qian’s eyes reddened. She might not be able to afford a large sum, but she could still send a 'Carnival' gift in her live stream.

'Thank you, Dr. Wu. I will definitely plant one next year.'

The little white snake emerged from Wu Heng's sleeve and asked, 'Wu Heng, do you want to eat apricots? Why not plant a tree in front of the clinic?'

That way, it could also taste them, climbing up the tree to enjoy the fresh fruit.

Wu Heng looked at the little white snake with a gaze filled with affection and pity: 'Read more. Apricot trees are native to the north.'

The location of Chengde Clinic isn't suitable for growing them.

The little white snake: '...Oh.'

The little white snake felt relieved that He Yunxiao and the others had been stopped outside the apartment.

'You don’t read much either!' the little white snake quickly retorted.

Wu Heng walked outside: 'Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles. I’ve been to many places.'

The little white snake immediately slithered along Wu Heng’s collarbone into his right sleeve, misinterpreting to the little gray snake hidden inside: 'Xi Xi, your godfather said traveling ten thousand miles is important, so I’ll travel more from Nan Nuo Village to your home in the future! A one-way trip of over three thousand kilometers—that’s over ten thousand miles!'

Xi Xi was dumbfounded: 'Ah? Oh, okay.'

In the reporter’s lens, Wu Heng walked out accompanied by the principal, counselor Xu Qian, and some students.

The principal looked at the crowd gathered at the door, unwilling to leave, and solemnly said: 'Thank you all for your concern for Professor Zhao, but I have an announcement to make.'

As soon as he spoke, some emotional individuals in the crowd began to shed tears.

'I don’t want to hear this bad news! Why can a hypocritical philanthropist like Zhao Qingyun live to ninety, while the unknown Professor Zhao only lives to sixty-seven?'

'It’s so painful. I can’t accept that in the future, when people think of this day, they’ll only know it as the death anniversary of a hypocritical philanthropist.'

'...'

The principal cleared his throat and said: 'Professor Zhao Qingyun’s condition has been temporarily stabilized under the care of doctors. After he recovers, he will continue his work as planned. He asked me to express his gratitude to all the students and reporters who care about him and to remind everyone to take care of their health.'

The students wailing outside the apartment still had tears on their faces: '...?'

The reporters, who were holding back tears and already drafting obituaries in their minds: '...?'

Huh?

What?

'Stabilized condition,' 'recover health,' 'continue work'—such unexpected words.

These reporters had received accurate information that this low-profile professor, who had quietly served the country, was on his deathbed. Even if he didn’t pass tonight, it would be within three days at the latest.

It was advanced lung cancer. How could his condition suddenly stabilize, and he recover to continue working?

If it weren’t the principal of Jing City University of Science and Technology saying this, one would think it was fake news from some marketing account.

So, should we cry or not? Should we offer flowers or not?

Everyone stared at their expressions. The joy on the faces of the principal and the teachers wasn’t feigned, and there was no reason to deceive the media.

'Wu Heng, is it Wu Heng?' a student who closely followed online news stared at the young man standing in the center and suddenly shouted.

Wu Heng had just come out of the professor’s apartment, and then Zhao Qingyun’s family lit drone sky lanterns. The key was that the photos posted online were labeled 'Zhao Qingyun,' and the handwriting was recognized by many of Wu Heng’s fans.

Plus, now Wu Heng was accompanied by the principal as he emerged.

The school administration didn’t officially comment on it, but netizens aren’t fools; they quickly guessed most of what happened.

The scene was filled with frantic flashes of cameras directed at Wu Heng, like a celebrity walking the red carpet.

The students were extremely quick in sending out messages, snapping photos and posting on Weibo in between.

"So it wasn’t a mistake? It was actually a sky lantern for a professor?"

"Although I don’t know who that professor is, I imagine he must be a hundred times better than that jerk Zhao Qingyun, otherwise Dr. Wu wouldn’t have intervened."

"Zhao Qingyun’s probably crying in the bathroom. If only you had said you had the ability to light sky lanterns earlier, why would I have tried to buy someone’s lifespan? I could have just asked you to light a lantern."

"Isn’t that kind of scary? Someone who dabbles in metaphysics can just light a lantern to extend someone’s life, meaning he could let people live a few more years if he wanted? Rich people could just throw money at him, right? But it’s better than buying someone’s lifespan, in this messed-up world."

This made many students from the University of Science and Technology in Beijing quite dissatisfied: "Do your research on Professor Zhao Qingyun before saying stuff like that, okay? Professor Zhao is absolutely deserving! The fact that you can comfortably be a keyboard warrior at home is partly due to Professor Zhao’s contributions."

However, many Taoist masters who practice metaphysics have come forward to vouch for Wu Heng, stating that only those with great merit could have such an opportunity.

This, in turn, sparked the curiosity of many netizens about who Professor Zhao Qingyun really is, sending the topic to the top of the trending list.

At this moment, a reporter, ignoring the taboo of spreading superstition, excitedly asked Wu Heng with a microphone: "Dr. Wu, did you light a sky lantern?"

Wu Heng’s handsome face was filled with seriousness as he replied, "Mr. Reporter, that was just a drone light display. Please do not promote superstition; we must believe in science."

The reporter: "...Okay."

A shaman who treats mysterious illnesses and practices metaphysics tells a materialist to trust science.

Wu Heng planned to leave; he had been in Beijing for too long today and wanted to return.

They dodged the reporters and students eager to interview them and headed to the parking lot to get their car.

Fan Xuan and Han Ye, who were students at the medical university, could ride their bikes back to school in just about ten minutes. They parted ways with Wu Heng and his group, planning to unlock the campus bikes, when a tall figure stopped in their path.

"Senior Su, what brings you here?" Han Ye immediately recognized the person and greeted him.

This was the senior who’d given up his dorm spot, a very nice guy.

The senior wiped the sweat from his face caused by cycling and looked towards the crowded professor’s apartment building, saying, "I saw online that Professor Zhao Qingyun was in critical condition, so I bought a bouquet of flowers to come over."

"No need to send flowers; the professor’s almost better. Let’s head back to school together," Fan Xuan said with a smile, patting the senior on the shoulder.

Wu Heng sat in the car; the cold night breeze brought the smell of sweat into the car. Wu Heng asked, "Do you smell something fishy?"

What smell?

Wang Dong stuck his head out, sniffing the air like a dog: "Fish smell? No, I don’t."

"I get it, Dr. Wu wants to eat fish. Want to grab some grilled fish tonight?"

The gray and white snakes poked their heads out of the sleeve, also sniffing the air for a while, and simultaneously said, 'No, we didn’t smell anything.'

Wu Heng didn’t mention it again, only saying to Shi Xuan, "Be careful driving at night; take it slow."

At night, Shi Xuan’s yin energy was heavier. Normally, according to the house rules set by Mr. Shi, he wasn’t allowed to go out at this hour, but Mr. Shi was on a business trip in Southeast Asia, and the butler Wu Su was in charge at home.

Driving at night is tricky; if strong yin energy draws in negative energy, it’s easy to have a traffic accident.

Wu Heng thought for a moment and said, "Once I get my driver’s license, I’ll take over the driving."

Shi Xuan glanced at Wu Heng through the rearview mirror and nodded, "Alright, you drive from now on, and I'll ride along."

Li Hao, sitting in the back, was about to suggest hiring a driver—people like them didn’t need to drive themselves. But his gaze lingered on the brightly lit professor’s apartment in the distance.

In a strict sense, they and Zhao Qingyun were actually part of the same social circle.

Putting aside the rights and wrongs, if their family wanted to, they could easily spend money to buy someone’s life.

Two hundred thousand could be the life-saving sum that poor families scraped together, or it could just be a handbag casually purchased by people like them. Even a professor like Zhao Qingyun didn’t make much.

Was it because they weren’t working hard enough? Not at all.

For some reason, Li Hao felt a surge of emotion and suddenly blurted out, "I want to join the Party and dedicate my life to communism."

Wu Heng turned to look at him, surprised that the guy who’d earlier wanted to tease Shi Xuan with snakes had such a realization. Regardless of what he’d do in the future, at least he genuinely thought so now.

"Call me comrade from now on!"

Wang Dong hesitated but finally said, "Then, Comrade Hao, you’ll have to work hard to pass the civil service exam in the future."

Wang Dong didn’t dare say that Li Hao’s grades didn’t seem like he could pass the exam.

The little white snake curiously poked its head out of the sleeve and asked, "What’s the civil service exam?"

After Li Hao and the others explained, as soon as they got out of the car, the little white snake enthusiastically said, "Uncle He, I forgot to tell you—I actually have a civil service position!"

Even though it was an internship, it was indeed a civil service position.

He Yunxiao’s calm eyes showed a hint of surprise as he looked at the little white snake for the first time. "You have a civil service position? Not a contract worker?"

*

Having a civil service position was indeed a big deal.

Today was an emotional rollercoaster for Li Juan. She placed the flowers in the bouquet outside the professor’s apartment, wiped her tears, and headed back to her dorm.

Zhao Qingyun was dead, Professor Zhao Qingyun was safe, and those who’d been scammed into selling their lives had all chosen to return and refund, reclaiming their lifespans.

Everything turned out well.

Only she couldn’t bring herself to smile.

Li Juan washed up and went to bed early, and none of her roommates dared to ask anything.

She pulled down the curtain and hid herself in her small single bed, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Even though she’d temporarily borrowed five hundred thousand from Mr. Zhou Mingze to repay Zhao Qingyun’s charity, her parents no longer had the chance to return and refund.

The dead could never return.

She could only envy those who’d successfully reclaimed their lifespans.

Li Juan cried until late at night and fell asleep at some point, entering a dream.

In front of her appeared a man whose face was unclear, scratching his head awkwardly and saying, "I took some videos, wanna see? If you do, burn some paper money and books for me later."

Li Juan: "..."

Was this a ghost who got the wrong dream?

Li Juan deeply remembered her father’s advice: if you meet a strange ghost in a dream, don’t talk to it, as it’s not good for you. Li Juan didn’t want to deal with this ghost whose face she couldn’t see, but she was drawn to the phone screen in his hand.

It’s Zhao Qingyun!

He stood trembling in shackles in the Hall of the King of Hell, surrounded by furious ghosts and demons.

Nowadays, underworld trials have adopted practices from earthly courts, and some major cases are open to the public. Ghosts and demons lingering in the underworld, who haven’t reincarnated or committed crimes, can watch.

Moreover, to quell the resentment of the wronged souls, the time for trials in the underworld is much faster than in the mortal world. Once a soul is caught, it can be brought to court right away.

Li Juan glared at Zhao Qingyun and said, 'I want to watch! I’ll burn you some paper money and books later.'

'Deal!'

The video was short, and the ghost who filmed it was amateurish, clearly lacking professional training, but the five-minute video contained a lot of information.

Li Juan couldn’t help but laugh, 'Zhao Qingyun, this old man, is finally getting his comeuppance. He’s going to endure the mountain of knives, the sea of fire, and the pot of oil...' She wished she could witness it firsthand.

At the end of the video, a solemn voice emanated from the main seat veiled in black mist, 'Your mortal bodies are gone, and you can’t return to the living world. After you reincarnate, I can add this time to your next life. Is that okay?'

The shaky camera suddenly panned to a couple, and Li Juan’s breath caught. The screen went black.

'Why did it stop? What happens next? I want to see the rest, please, uncle. I’ll burn you money and books for sure when I wake up! Please, let me see the rest, I beg you.'

Li Juan got worked up, nearly kneeling and kowtowing to the faceless ghost.

'Okay, you can get early access, but don’t forget to burn me money and books when you wake up. My name is Yang Xing.'

Wu Heng taught this method, and it wouldn’t harm the living person’s yang energy.

But Chen Zhao, eager to earn ghost money, came up with the 'early access' idea, and it worked like a charm.

Li Juan’s eyes widened in realization. She finally knew who this person was. He was the college student from the class of ’94 whose admission letter was personally burned by the principal. Strictly speaking, he was her senior!

Since they were schoolmates, there was no need to stand on ceremony.

Yang Xing played the second video, and Li Juan grabbed the phone, staring intently at the screen. When she saw the couple in the video, she wanted to cry, but perhaps because it was a dream, she had no tears.

'Mom, Dad, I borrowed money from Mr. Zhou to pay back Zhao Qingyun. I’ll study hard and repay the debt after graduation. You must live long and healthy lives in your next life.'

Her parents had bad luck; they died in their early forties.

If her parents really only had fifty years of life, then with the additional years they got back, they could live to sixty in their next life.

Sixty years isn’t a long lifespan in today’s modern society, but it’s still better than this life.

May the next life be happy, after the suffering of this one.

Li Dahai and Huang Jiaofeng exchanged a glance, then bowed deeply to the main seat. With their honest voices, they tentatively asked, 'Your Honor, since we can’t return to life even with the returned lifespan, could it be passed on as an inheritance to our daughter?'