Chapter 77 Intensive Care Unit

Chapter 77 Intensive Care Unit

During the hours when the anesthesia took effect, Zhu Shinian dreamed.

He dreamed that the dirty, thin stray cat had bitten him.

It wasn’t exactly a bite, because the cat was too small and weak—it was more like a scrape of its teeth against his finger.

Zhu Shinian knew clearly that he was dreaming.

He didn’t pull his finger away, letting the stray cat nibble and gnaw.

Suddenly, he realized why he kept dreaming of it.

He wanted to stand up and clean its fur, feed it some canned food and water, but his body couldn’t move at all.

He suddenly realized there was no chance left.

The stray cat let out a soft cry, like a child’s sob—not a sharp, lingering cry of resentment.

Just a light, short sound, full of grievance but free of any bitterness.

Zhu Shinian looked down at it, and the stray cat raised its grimy little face to meet his gaze.

In that moment of eye contact, he saw that the cat had chestnut-brown eyes, the same color as his own.

The surroundings suddenly blazed bright. Zhu Shinian opened his eyes, and the glare of the operating light made his eyes water.

“You’re awake. The surgery went smoothly... Oh, sorry, sorry—are your eyes sensitive? We’ll turn off this light now.”

There were people talking around him, but Zhu Shinian couldn’t make out what they said.

The kitten lowered its head, stood up with difficulty, and staggered away from Zhu Shinian.

“...Kitty,” Zhu Shinian murmured softly.

Don’t come to me anymore.

If there’s a next life, find someone who will love you, who won’t abandon you.

The doctors and nurses laughed. They had seen many patients saying strange things while waking from anesthesia—crying about not wanting to take exams, begging ex-lovers not to leave, boasting about being the world’s richest man—but someone who started calling for a kitten was a first.

“Must really love cats, to dream about them even under anesthesia,” one of them said.

“Wheel the patient out,” the doctor said.

People came and went in the operating room. The sign that had read “In Surgery” was replaced with “Surgery Completed.”

A little over an hour later, Zhu Shinian regained full consciousness.

His body felt no unusual reaction—aside from some dizziness, there was no discomfort, as if he had simply taken a nap.

There was no proof that the child had ever been inside him; it was as if the child had never existed.

Jiang Huaiyan couldn’t persuade him otherwise, and that same evening, Zhu Shinian returned to the front lines.

He had been gone for only two days, and aside from his physical weakness and pale complexion, nothing seemed amiss, as if he had simply returned to the capital on official business.

On the battlefield, minor injuries and illnesses were routine. Aside from a few concerned words, no one would pry or ask invasive questions.

The front line kept advancing, and the resistance’s area under actual control continued to expand.

When he was busy, Zhu Shinian had no time to grieve for the lost child.

He numbed himself by thinking: everything he did was so that more children would not lose their parents, and more parents would not lose their children.

It was for… making more people happy.

He no longer heard the intermittent sound of a child crying that he had heard before the surgery.

If souls existed, that child must have been very thoughtful and well-behaved.

The child never disturbed Zhu Shinian again, and he never dreamed of that dusty and grimy stray cat again.

Every day, he was exhausted, nearly blacking out the moment his head hit the cot.

He made time to write brief letters to Jiang Huaiyan, always saying that he was fine, and telling Jiang to take good care of himself and his grandmother. The letters Jiang Huaiyan sent him were very long, and Zhu Shinian often had to read them in several sittings, like a reward after toil.

Jiang Huaiyan would choose beautiful stationery, writing about the weather in District 29, about what he had done, about who had argued until red-faced with whom over political differences in meetings, and how after the meetings, Tao Juan would mediate like a teacher mediating between quarreling schoolchildren and forcing them to shake hands and hug.

Jiang Huaiyan would also copy poems to send to Zhu Shinian. His handwriting was beautiful, and the stationery was beautiful too.

In the trenches, amid gunfire on all sides, the seasons were almost indistinguishable. But in the letters Jiang Huaiyan sent, the poems described hometown streams, of flowers, of spring.

Spring. Another year of spring.

Throughout that entire year, Zhu Shinian barely had any days he could return to District 29 to see Jiang Huaiyan and his grandmother.

During the Spring Festival, he ate a hot dinner of beef dumplings at the camp with everyone, then at three in the morning launched a surprise attack, catching the Imperial Army by surprise.

His prestige increased daily, and more and more people followed him and joined the resistance.

On the lands captured by the resistance, many new orphanages were established.

The number of children selling newspapers on trains steadily decreased, and even if they were caught, they were only reprimanded and educated, then sent home, warning their parents about how dangerous such behavior was.

The orphanages didn’t have much money, but every meal those children had included meat. They could drink milk two or three times a week, and children who were old enough were all sent to school.

The orphans were thin, unsociable, and introverted, but they were growing up well. They wouldn’t freeze to death on the roadside one winter day.

In this way, Zhu Shinian’s sacrifice had been worthwhile.

If more people could be happy because of his decision, then his own pain didn’t matter.

Seeing Jiang Huaiyan again at the front-line camp came as a surprise.

.......

The guard had just informed Zhu Shinian that Jiang Huaiyan had arrived when the man strode in.

He looked travel-worn, with a tired look on his face. Zhu Shinian’s heart ached—it was six in the morning, and Jiang Huaiyan must have been up all night to get here.

He wanted to offer him the best tea. But as he reached for the teapot, Jiang Huaiyan gently clasped his wrist.

He said Tao Juan was in trouble and told Zhu Shinian to arrange matters here and come back with him to District 29 immediately.

Zhu Shinian had no time to feel surprised and pleased at Jiang Huaiyan’s appearance before being shocked by his words.

He paused, not yet able to ask what had happened to his teacher, but immediately lowered his head and began handing over front-line affairs as Jiang Huaiyan had instructed.

He asked Jiang Huaiyan how long he would be away, but Jiang Huaiyan replied that he didn't know yet and told him to make arrangements for as long a time as possible.

Jiang Huaiyan, who had always been meticulous in planning and thinking ten steps ahead, gave such a vague answer for the first time.

Zhu Shinian didn't ask any further. He immediately stood up, spent some time arranging his tasks at hand, and boarded the helicopter with Jiang Huaiyan.

Two hours later, they arrived at the Central Hospital of District 29.

The crowd was dense, with a row of cameras with long and short lenses. The moment Zhu Shinian and Jiang Huaiyan appeared at the hospital entrance, they were surrounded by reporters.

"General Zhu, Director Jiang, everyone is very concerned about Governor Tao's condition. Can you two give us a direct answer?"

"Yesterday, Governor Tao's secretary personally gave a statement, saying that the Governor had turned the corner and had been discharged from the ICU. Why has his condition worsened now?"

"If something really happens to Governor Tao, does the resistance army have contingency measures? Will it come to a halt? Has there been advance succession planning? It's said that his chosen successor is Lieutenant General Zhu. Does Lieutenant General Zhu have confidence in assuming the governor's role and leading everyone to a better life?"

Zhu Shinian's mind went blank. He knew no more about these questions than the reporters did.

How is his mentor now? What will happen to the resistance district in the future?

When Zhu Shinian left, Teacher Tao was still healthy and sometimes even trained alongside regular soldiers.

Voices surged like waves, and camera flashes flickered. Jiang Huaiyan shielded him behind his back, blocking the view of most people.

"You go upstairs first. Third floor, intensive care unit." He turned his head and said softly to Zhu Shinian.

His voice inexplicably made Zhu Shinian feel at ease, as if there was nothing to fear. Zhu Shinian said okay, turned around, and walked through the hospital entrance.

"Lieutenant General Zhu has important matters to attend to. I will answer the questions from the journalists." Jiang Huaiyan said calmly.

The camera flashes kept flashing at him. He casually took a microphone from a reporter and asked him to repeat his question.

"None of us could have predicted the deterioration of his condition. Yesterday the Governor had indeed been discharged from the ICU. No one expected something like this to happen today..."

Jiang Huaiyan's words and the noise were shut out by the soundproof glass. Zhu Shinian took the elevator to the third floor.

The entire floor was filled with resuscitation rooms. Although many family members were sitting on the chairs in the corridor, it was eerily silent.

The shadow of death hung over every relative. People on the verge of emotional collapse did not even dare to cry aloud.

On a chair outside an ICU room, Zhu Shinian recognized Tao Juan's husband.

The omega sat on the metal chair by the ward door, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees. He wore a gray sweater and looked somewhat pale.

He had become much older and more haggard than Zhu Shinian remembered, with many new wrinkles on his face.

"Teacher's husband," Zhu Shinian said as he walked over.

The last time he saw Di Yu was when Zhu Shinian was at the Capital First Military Academy.

Di Yu was almost forty then, but he maintained himself well, looking like someone just over thirty. He always spoke softly, and even when teased by mischievous students, he would just smile gently.

Tao Juan really liked Zhu Shinian, and so did Di Yu. Whenever Tao Juan invited Zhu Shinian over for dinner, Di Yu would bake a lot of egg tarts for Zhu Shinian to take back and enjoy slowly.

"Xiao Zhu is here," Di Yu forced a gentle, weary smile. "It's been hard on you, coming back from the front lines."

Zhu Shinian suddenly felt a bit grateful that he was now an omega. He reached out and gently held Di Yu's hand.

Although the weather wasn't cold, Di Yu's hands were ice-cold.

"Teacher... will be fine," Zhu Shinian said softly.

He had experienced too many family deaths and knew that at times like this, any amount of comfort would seem pale and futile.

He just held Di Yu's hand, letting the warmth from his palm slowly seep into the cold hand of his teacher's husband.

"Over the years, Teacher has weathered many storms. He won't fall at a moment like this. He must also... be worried about you."

Di Yu's eyes grew red instantly, tears nearly overflowing. That's how it is with people on the verge of emotional collapse—when no one comforts them, they can maintain calm composure, but if someone comes to comfort them at that moment, the tears will flow uncontrollably.

Di Yu realized he had lost his composure, quickly wiped his tears, and was silent for a moment, as if recalling what he had originally intended to say to Zhu Shinian.

He tried to speak several times, but couldn't speak because he was sobbing.

"Old Tao... is over fifty years old. In the past, the average life expectancy in District 29 was only a little over fifty. People inevitably go through birth, aging, sickness, and death. And being the governor is so taxing—sometimes there are kidnappings and assassination attempts. I thought long ago that this day might come."

He spoke a bit slowly. It was less what he wanted to say than what he had prepared long ago to comfort Zhu Shinian.

"Old Tao had made a will long ago. Everything after his death should be properly arranged. I used to find it unlucky."

Di Yu lowered his head and gave a bitter smile.

His eyes were gentle and damp with tears. Looking at such eyes, Zhu Shinian felt nothing but extreme sadness.

Why is fate so harsh to such gentle, kind people?

"I've seen his will. His secretary should be bringing the will over soon. If he dies, the resistance district will hold a new election to decide the next leader. But barring any accidents, you should be the one everyone expects to take over."

"It may be hard on Lieutenant General Zhu. From now on, all matters of the resistance district will have to rest on your shoulders alone."

The resistance district in the future is to be handed over to you.

Xiao Zhu is like I was when I was young, even more intelligent and capable than I was.

Tao Juan had hinted many times that Zhu Shinian was the successor he had chosen for the resistance district.

Zhu Shinian had also argued with him many times: he knew how to fight battles, but when it came to managing the resistance district and improving it, Zhu Shinian had never studied it and was not good at it.

Zhu Shinian lowered his eyes. What appeared before him was no longer the ICU's warning lights, but the severed limbs and bodies in the trenches, the children selling newspapers, and his father who died in the mine.

He could no longer say words like "I'm not suitable" or "I can't do it."

Author's note: