Chapter 56

Chapter 56

His tone was very flat, but to Zhou Qingshan's ears, it sounded heavy with grief.

The kind of grief that came from giving up on oneself.

This made him anxious all of a sudden.

"Don't say that! Dalin, you're already amazing! You've earned great military honors! You exempted our villagers from taxes and forced labor for a full three years! Even if you can't hunt now, that doesn't make you useless! You... you don't know how much worse I was when I came back... far worse than you!"

Zhou Qingshan had never told anyone before that besides his broken leg, he had other problems—what Jue Geer called PTSD. Others wouldn't know about this condition, and if he told them, they might mock him for being weak, so he had never spoken of it.

But today, discovering that Dalin clearly had the same symptoms, he knew how painful this condition was. He dug up his own past.

Zhou Qingshan sat down on a rock, reached out to touch his prosthetic leg, and with a smile on his face, said slowly, "When I first came back from the battlefield, I was in a dark place. I couldn't bring myself to kill, so I let you be the one to charge ahead. After you died, I didn't bring you back—couldn't even bring back your... body. Yet I was still alive. I couldn't face you, couldn't face Master Huo's grave. Every day I looked at my broken leg and thought, why didn't I just die? Now I'm useless and just a burden to my family.

But I... was too scared to die either. At night I had nightmares night after night—dreams full of flashing swords... I was so terrified. I was terrified of dying... I couldn't tell anyone. My father, my younger brother, and Nannan all depend on me..."

Zhou Qingshan pointed down the mountain and said, "Good thing Jue Geer was there. He said I had PTSD—that it's a totally normal condition, that it wasn't because I was weak, that regular folks like us shouldn't have been thrown onto the battlefield without any training."

Huo Jilin's eyes flickered. Chen Jue was right.

He was a soldier—on the battlefield, he had to sleep with his sword in hand, because you never knew when the Northern Yuan Tartars might launch a surprise attack.

That feeling of a sword dangling over your head was a real nightmare-maker.

Civilians who'd never been through combat training couldn't handle that.

Zhou Qingshan continued, "So if it weren't for Jue Geer, I never would've gotten past it. Jue Geer not only treated my leg and helped me stand again—he saved my life! He's the one who saved me..."

No wonder Zhou Qingshan had bowed so deeply to Chen Jue. Back then, he'd figured it was just because he was grateful to walk normally again.

Now that he thought about it, Chen Jue had spotted Zhou Qingshan's PTSD and cured him. The fact that Zhou Qingshan could talk about it now proved he had recovered.

Mental illnesses were so hard to cure, especially combat PTSD. A lot of people never got out of it their whole lives.

Huo Jilin's eyes darkened. He didn't say anything, just watched Zhou Qingshan stand up and say, "So Jue Geer is a seriously talented doctor. Dalin, if anything's bothering you, you gotta tell Jue Geer. He can definitely cure you too!"

Huo Jilin didn't answer. He just stared down the mountain. Chen Jue was in deep trouble himself—couldn't even save his own skin.

Chen Jue's issue wasn't combat PTSD. It was depression.

And if Chen Jue could spot Zhou Qingshan's condition, he definitely knew he had depression too.

If he knew and still couldn't shake it, that meant it was bad.

Huo Jilin's heart sank.

Huo Jilin headed down the mountain before sunset.

Zhou Qingshan's leg was good enough now that he could ride a horse over rough terrain, so the two of them gathered herbs, chopped firewood, and even bagged two wild pheasants and three wild rabbits on the way down.

One look at Zhou Qingshan's skill and you could tell he'd got it.

Zhou Qingshan was modest about it, saying he hadn't hunted in months, that it was easy, and that autumn meant the prey was fat and easy to catch.

But Huo Jilin knew he was just being modest.

If it was that easy, how come he couldn't catch a single one? Last time, he'd only caught that pheasant in the dead of night.

Zhou Qingshan laughed heartily and generously gave Huo Jilin half. The rabbits felt heavy in his hands as Huo Jilin strode home.

He hadn't seen Chen Jue in half a day and was starting to worry.

He only relaxed when he spotted Chen Jue sitting in the courtyard in the distance.

Zhou Qingshan got off his horse at the gate and greeted Chen Jue: "Doctor Chen, writing your book?"

He'd started calling Chen Jue "Doctor Chen" now. Chen Jue was more used to that name and greeted him back.

He also saw the... meat they were carrying, and his eyes lit up—that was pure instinct, the instinct of the baby in his belly.

Zhou Qingshan left all the rabbits and said, "I'll leave these to you, Doctor Chen."

Huo Jilin handed all three rabbits to Chen Jue: "Tonight we're having radish-braised rabbit. I'll go pull some radishes. Do all three—I'll stew a big pot and send some over to them."

Chen Jue had already pulled out his scalpel and nodded. "Alright, I'll do the dissecting."

Huo Jilin raised an eyebrow at the knife: "Using a scalpel to butcher rabbits—that's like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Your knife's wasted on this."

That was why Huo Jilin hadn't turned down Zhou Qingshan's gift of rabbits and pheasants—Chen Jue was desperate for things to practice on. And he couldn't catch any himself.

These three were for Chen Jue to practice on.

Chen Jue dissected them way too fast—quick and clean.

Zhou Qingshan's archery was spot-on; the rabbits had been shot clean through the neck. Chen Jue carefully pulled out the arrows, then sliced along the belly and skinned the whole hide off in one piece.

Then he opened up the chest and belly, carefully pulling out the organs one by one, until three identical rabbits lay laid out on the table.

Huo Jilin watched the pale rabbits with their legs stretched out and took a quiet breath. Good thing these were rabbits, not frogs—frogs laid out like that looked almost like human bodies.

Huo Jilin chopped the rabbit into chunks with quick strokes, cut the green radishes into pieces, got the wok hot with oil, and before long, the smell of meat mixed with the fresh scent of radish filled the air.

Zhou Qingzhu came over carrying a basin, sniffing the air from a distance: "Brother Dalin, that smells incredible! How do you make it so good!"

Huo Jilin answered without looking up: "Because I use a lot of oil."

Rabbit meat has little fat. In the interior, the common preparation was spicy rabbit head. He was making radish-braised rabbit, so of course he needed extra oil—he used the lard he'd rendered earlier. The two aromas together were naturally fragrant.

Zhou Qingzhu gave him a thumbs up: "I knew you'd go all in on the oil, Brother Dalin! From now on, all the rabbits are yours to stew!"

Huo Jilin scooped out a large plateful and said to him, "Serve yourself, and wash the pot out for me."

He really hated washing pots and dishes.

Zhou Qingzhu smiled at him: "Don't worry! Leave it to me!"

Today's haul was plentiful and they'd returned early, so after the two of them finished eating, the sun was just hanging over the mountaintop. The glow of sunset bathed the courtyard, and Old Horse Ancestor's coat gleamed like a piece of jujube-red satin. Having run his fill and eaten his fill, he was playing a head-butting game with Little Flower in the yard.

Chen Jue continued writing his unfinished medical notes.

Huo Jilin finished splitting firewood and sat down across from him. He watched for a while and found that Chen Jue was completely absorbed in his writing—if he didn't speak, Chen Jue probably wouldn't say a word. So he couldn't help asking: "Zhou Qingshan told me today that you cured his PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder."

Chen Jue looked up at him: "He told you today?"

Huo Jilin nodded: "He recounted everything calmly. You cured him."

Chen Jue glanced at him: "Actually, the real reason he recovered is that you came back alive. I was only auxiliary treatment."

Huo Jilin gave a faint smile: "Don't be so modest, Dr. Chen. By the time I came back, he had already moved past it. I was just the icing on the cake."

Chen Jue still couldn't tell whether Huo Jilin's words to him were sarcastic or genuine praise, so he simply ignored him and continued writing his notes.

He wanted to write down all the medical knowledge he had in his mind. His brain was still sharp now, but there would always come a time when his memory would fade.

Or perhaps one day he would no longer be here, so he might as well leave behind as much as he could.

Huo Jilin watched Chen Jue use his self-modified pen, watching him write neat lines of characters with such a simple, rudimentary tool. He wrote in vertical traditional Chinese, writing for the world to read.

In Chen Jue's previous life, he had published 28 academic papers, among which cardiac groundwork was his proposal. Following cardiac bypass surgery, this was another medical miracle.

That year, Chen Jue was only twenty-eight years old, hence he was hailed as a genius doctor.

He was a genius, there was no denying that. No physician so young had ever reached such heights.

But many people overlooked how diligent this genius doctor was.

This abandoned child, left at the hospital, seemed born for medicine. After being adopted by Dean Chen and Director Zhou, he began his journey of medical enlightenment from a young age.

The efforts he made along the way went unnoticed by outsiders.

Until he took the position of director, and then a torrent of abuse was heaped upon him from all directions.

They said he stood on Dean Chen's shoulders, said he got in through the back door.

They said all his papers were merely additions by Dean Chen, said he could sit in the director's seat only because he was Dean Chen's son—an adopted orphan.

The genius explained nothing and simply walked away.

It was what he had said before—Chen Jue's first escape was fleeing his own origins.

The genius's heart was not as unbreakable as his exterior suggested.

He was an iceberg; once the outer layer shattered, the inside shattered too.

So depression caught up with him.

Everyone has obstacles they cannot surmount.

Huo Jilin looked at Chen Jue's icy expression and spoke softly: "Aren't you worried that I might have PTSD too?"

He treats other patients so well, but doesn't care at all about his own husband.

Chen Jue put down his simple pen and glanced at Huo Jilin: "A large part of PTSD symptoms stems from survivor's bias—being stuck in survivor's guilt and unable to move past it. People like that have a strong sense of morality, a heavy conscience, and are soft-hearted and kind. I don't think you'd have those issues."

Huo Jilin just stared at him. Chen Jue's words implied he was cold-hearted, with no conscience or morality.

Chen Jue showed no fear of his murderous stare. What he said was the plain truth—someone as hard-hearted as Huo Jilin would never suffer from survivor's guilt.

"I'm afraid of death too." Huo Jilin gritted his teeth and said, word by word.

Chen Jue didn't argue. That was possible—everyone feared death, and the richer they were, the more they feared it. Even someone as hard-hearted as Huo Jilin feared death. Otherwise, why would he insist on researching extracorporeal fetuses—that "520" baby-making project?

Another major reason Chen Jue disapproved of extracorporeal fetuses was his fear that the research would become a means for the wealthy to harvest organs at will.

Wasn't the cloned sheep Dolly back then experimented on for that very purpose?

Chen Jue patted Little Flower, who couldn't outmatch Old Horse Ancestor and had run over to nibble on his clothes: "You should go home and feed your kid."

Little Flower had no desire to go home and play nursemaid. She turned around and pressed against him again, only to be grabbed by the horns and dragged away by Huo Jilin.

Chen Jue watched Huo Jilin press his palm against Little Flower's head and took a deep breath.

He shouldn't have such dark thoughts. He shouldn't maliciously speculate about Huo Jilin's intentions just because he was biased against him.

Perhaps that wasn't Huo Jilin's idea, nor the country's. The country's vision was always forward-looking and correct, its original intentions always good—for humanity's survival, for medicine's advancement.

It was just that certain people had exploited loopholes through devious means.

Chen Jue silently watched the little goat, whose horns were being held back by Huo Jilin's hand as they struggled. Little Flower was also stubborn, insisting on competing with Huo Jilin, completely unaware that he was just playing with her.

He could hold her firmly with just one hand, expressionless, waiting for her to charge, then twist her neck at an unexpected angle.

That hand with its prominent knuckles looked like it could snap something in an instant.

Every time Chen Jue saw him do this with the little goat, he'd think: Huo Jilin and Little Flower really didn't get along.

Little Flower was perceptive. Seeing that Chen Jue was pregnant, she wouldn't ram him, but her horns itched to butt something. So she targeted Huo Jilin instead, launching surprise attacks at him again and again.

Just a few days after Huo Jilin arrived, she rammed him in the lower back, and he had never let it go.

When Little Flower was sent back to Zhang Yan's house, Huo Jilin nearly set off firecrackers in celebration.

But unfortunately, Little Flower came back.

Over half a month had passed, and every time Huo Jilin said he'd kill her for hotpot, he never actually did. And now he even had the leisure to play with her.

Maybe Huo Jilin wasn't that ruthless.

As Chen Jue was thinking, he met Huo Jilin's gaze. Chen Jue recalled what he had just said—what was it again?

Oh, he said he was afraid of death too.

Chen Jue asked flatly: "Are you feeling unwell? Having insomnia? I thought you slept fine at night."

"You go to sleep earlier than I do, so how would you know I slept well? Did you sneak a look at me in the middle of the night?" Huo Jilin was looking for a fight.

Chen Jue didn't want to deal with him anymore: "If you won't say, then never mind."

Huo Jilin took a deep breath. He didn't know how to say it.

He didn't have post-traumatic stress disorder. The one who was afflicted was one of his comrades.

During the rescue operation against the 735 terrorist organization, the scene exploded. Not only were the hostages not saved, but all the comrades who entered the building were killed.

His comrade was the Commander, who stayed in the vehicle directing. Only those in the vehicle made it out alive.

Among them was him—he was the inspector.

To put it bluntly, he had risen to the rank of colonel standing on others' shoulders. He was just there to pad his resume, to retire gracefully after a year and take over Huachen Pharmaceuticals.

Indeed, as Chen Jue said, he wouldn't be in dangerous places, wouldn't contract such an illness.

His comrade had a mental breakdown after that battle, while he was as fine as ever—able to investigate internally, root out the mole, and give compensation to every fallen soldier's family. The entire process was calm and rational. Even he himself felt he was too cold-blooded.

So Chen Jue was right. Someone as life-cherishing as Huo Jilin—how could he possibly suffer from survivor's guilt?

Even so, Huo Jilin again fell asleep later than Chen Jue that night.

He moved the small table aside, snuggling up against Chen Jue, and only fell asleep listening to Chen Jue's steady breathing.

Huo Jilin thought that by running up the mountain and cutting off the 'divorce' talks that were unfavorable to him, he'd gotten away with brushing the whole thing aside.

But Chen Jue wasn't about to let him off that easy.

He went back to counting his silver every day.

Silver wouldn't increase out of thin air, so Chen Jue, with his belly leading the way, went up the mountain to dig cordyceps again.

The weather was getting colder day by day, and cordyceps were getting scarcer. Moreover, with Zhou Qingzhu, Zhou Qingshan, Zhou Hehua, and others now digging too, he could have just stayed home to collect herbs.

But he still wanted to go up the mountain, and Huo Jilin had no choice but to follow him.

Zhou Hehua needled him from behind: "Dalin, Jue Geer is already eight months along, and you're still letting him go up the mountain."