Electronic Nezha

Chapter 5 Watching a Movie

"Your husband is an expert? Does that mean the surgery can be done immediately?"

Chen Zihan's mother slowly shook her head: "Since being hospitalized, Hanhan has been in the intensive care unit and hasn't dared to move. The things in her mind are too complicated for us to understand. Old Chen and a group of experts from other hospitals have been consulting for half a day."

Just then, a young doctor hurried over carrying a bag of X-ray films. He handed the bag to Chen Zihan's mother and said, "Sister-in-law, Hanhan's X-rays are in."

Chen Zihan's mother casually placed the item on the table closest to the door and asked anxiously, "Has Old Chen seen it? Do you have a plan yet?"

"Director Chen has already reviewed it on the computer. The plan is still under discussion, and experts from both our institute and other institutes are here."

Chen Zihan's mother said anxiously, "Why are we still discussing this? Shouldn't this situation not be delayed?"

The young doctor said, "Hanhan's condition is a bit special... The bleeding point is still uncertain. There are many risks involved in performing surgery rashly, and even the slightest accident could leave lasting consequences."

Chen Zihan's mother asked, "For example?"

"For example, imbalance, drooling, and memory decline."

Each of those words felt like a heavy hammer blow to Chen Zihan's mother, and she was on the verge of collapsing. I glanced at the young doctor and gained a new appreciation for the way science-oriented men comfort people.

"These are assuming the surgery goes smoothly but has some flaws; if it doesn't go smoothly—"

I couldn't help but ask, "Does your hospital hire mute people?"

The young doctor mustered his courage and said, "Sister-in-law, you need to sign the surgical consent form. I just..."

Chen Zihan's mother said, distraught, "You don't need to say anything, I understand."

I belatedly realized that the young doctor wasn't showing off his low emotional intelligence; he was simply informing the patient's family of the surgical risks in a different way. At this point, Chen Zihan's father would never have had the courage to tell his wife these things. I glanced again at the biography on the wall; Dr. Chen's illustrious achievements and impressive resume in the medical field now seemed like a silent irony.

The atmosphere was almost frozen, and then I saw Liu Zhenhua looking at Chen Zihan's film with a serious expression. He held the film up to the light, glanced at it a few times, put it down, and then took another one out of the bag and continued watching.

I whispered sharply, "Liu Zhenhua, put it down!"

If Chen Zihan had appendicitis, I admit Liu Zhenhua's antics were quite funny, but didn't he know it was extremely rude of him at a time like this? I could tolerate him looking at the test results, but even a group of experts couldn't figure out those images. Wasn't he just making things more difficult for them?

"Oh." Liu Zhenhua clumsily stuffed the film into the bag.

I realized it was time for us to leave, so I handed the bouquet to Chen Zihan's mother and said awkwardly, "Well, we won't bother you any longer..."

Chen Zihan's mother mechanically accepted the flowers, staring blankly at the formal words "Get well soon" on the card for a moment. Suddenly, she said, "Liu Zhenhua, I have a favor to ask of you. Could you write a few words for Chen Zihan on behalf of the whole class? She'll be happy to see them when she wakes up."

"Okay." Liu Zhenhua bent one leg, put his schoolbag on his knee, and started looking for a pen.

"Take your time writing, no rush." ​​Chen Zihan's mother handed the card to Liu Zhenhua, then moved with the young doctor to the corridor and gently closed the door.

Liu Zhenhua turned the card over, sat on the corner of the table, picked up a pen, and frowned.

I told him, "Write carefully and make sure your handwriting is beautiful." I vaguely sensed that this was Chen Zihan's mother expressing her wish that her daughter could successfully overcome the surgery, and that there was very little we could do, so we had to complete our task well.

Liu Zhenhua solemnly wrote down Chen Zihan's name, added a colon, and then fell into deep thought.

I opened the AI ​​app on my phone and typed in my voice: "In the voice of a classmate, on behalf of the whole class, write a blessing to another classmate who is in a coma and about to have surgery."

The doctor who had been writing medical records in the office looked up and glanced at me.

Lines of text quickly flashed on the phone screen. I nudged Liu Zhenhua's shoulder and said, "I'll read, you write—looking at your seat, the whole class felt empty inside. The difficult problems we worked on together and the jokes we shared during breaks all seemed incredibly precious..."

Liu Zhenhua looked at me speechlessly.

"Write it, isn't that a good thing?"

Liu Zhenhua's eyes showed some resentment.

The doctor writing the medical record said, "Let them write it themselves; there might be some little secrets involved."

“Then write it yourself.” I stood behind him with my hands behind my back.

Liu Zhenhua remained motionless, as if in protest.

"Okay, okay, I won't look at it, is that alright?" I could only wander over to the wall and start studying the doctors' schedule.

Liu Zhenhua would sometimes fall into deep thought and sometimes pick up his pen, writing and pausing intermittently.

By now I had a clear understanding of the neurosurgery department's schedule. Seeing the doctor who was writing medical records put down the keyboard, I made conversation by asking, "Are you usually busy?"

"Busy!" That single word from the other party spoke volumes.

"Can your medical records be written by AI?" "The hospital doesn't allow it; who's responsible if something goes wrong?"

I nodded.

After Liu Zhenhua finished writing the card, he put it back into the bouquet, showing no intention of having it approved by me first.

In the corridor, both Chen Zihan's mother and the young doctor had incredibly serious expressions, and the oppressive atmosphere made me want to crawl back inside immediately. I said goodbye, thinking that if Chen Zihan's mother wanted to see us off, I should firmly refuse, and at most let her see us to the elevator. In the end, she only symbolically walked us a couple of steps. Actually, I could tell that she also wanted to escape from here, but an invisible force held her back.

As I left the hospital, I was filled with emotion, which can be summed up in one sentence: "Liu Zhenhua, be careful when you cross the street from now on!"

"Okay, but how are we getting back to school—we don't have helmets."

"I'll ride slower." In the past, I would have said this to avoid the traffic police, but this time it was out of genuine concern for safety.

As the saying goes, if you teach someone something, they'll learn it in no time! Hmm.

Liu Zhenhua gave me a speechless look that said "perfect reading comprehension," and then jumped into the back seat.

What classes do you have this afternoon?

"English history, if I go back now, the second period will probably be over soon."

"Don't go to school this afternoon."

"Oh? What did Teacher Wang say?"

"I'm here...wait, wasn't that what you were planning?" I only realized he had brought his backpack when he said that.

Liu Zhenhua chuckled: "It's just two main classes. I reckon this trip will take quite a while, and I was just about to ask you for permission."

I glared at him and suddenly had a bright idea: "Let's go see a movie." The reason I had this idea was not only because Chen Zihan's incident had given me a shock that "nothing matters except death," but also because I wanted to have some parent-child interaction. Look at those families in Chinese movies and TV dramas: the children are all precocious, acting like they're old at a young age, their banter exuding a wisdom that sees through the ways of the world, their words sounding like prophecies; the parents are also carefree and easygoing, often having soul-searching conversations with the next generation, always playing around with their kids, and grades are not even a concern for them. I also wanted to be an "unconventional" dad for once.

"Book the tickets now." Liu Zhenhua was afraid I would change my mind.

I bought two tickets on the app for the movie theater in the nearest shopping mall. Because we had to dodge traffic police along the way and didn't have enough time, we rushed into the theater, panting, only to find that the movie had already started.

"How long has it been sitting there?" I asked a young couple in the back row.

The man said, "Just two or three points."

"Thank goodness." Liu Zhenhua and I wiped our sweat and sat down.

The movie is Shen Teng and Ma Li's new film "Claw Machine". It tells the story of the eldest son of a rich man who was born into a wealthy family and became a spoiled brat. In order to prevent his younger son from following the same path, the rich man moved to a dilapidated old house when the child was too young to remember. He forced the younger son to endure hardship and instilled in him the idea that "poverty requires struggle". He also used his wealth to give him advantages in every way. The neighbors he chatted with were all top scholars and professors who influenced him. The foreign friends he met when asking for directions were there to help him practice his spoken English. There were no fewer than three or four bodyguards on the street. In the basement of their house, there was a team that was fully prepared to help the child become a claw machine king.

The movie was a success, packed with jokes, and the theater erupted in laughter from time to time. Liu Zhenhua chuckled along. After the movie, it was lunchtime, and Liu Zhenhua said he didn't want noodles with soybean paste anymore. I waved my hand and said, "Let's have barbecue!"
At a barbecue restaurant not far from home, I told Liu Zhenhua to order whatever he wanted. After ordering, Liu Zhenhua cautiously asked, "Dad, what's wrong with you today?"

"I see you've been studying hard, so I'll let you relax a bit. Did you enjoy the movie?"

"It's pretty good, at least it's more interesting than going to school."

Shen Teng felt like punching someone after hearing that.

I chuckled and said, "Have you ever thought that you're also a hidden rich kid, and that your dad is Ma Chenggang?"

"Poverty and coughs cannot be hidden."

"Huh? What do you mean, you brat!"

The smile shifted to Liu Zhenhua's face, and he waved his hand, saying, "It just suddenly came to mind."

"Our family doesn't have a lot of money, but we're definitely not poor!" I said righteously. Boys at this age should have a correct understanding of their family's financial situation, otherwise they are prone to psychological problems. I am a negative example. From a young age, Liu Zhenhua's grandfather reminded me every day as soon as I opened my eyes that our family was just a fruit seller, that we had a hard time even eating, and that wasting money was a terrible sin, second only to murder and arson. So much so that when the school organized a spring outing, I hesitated for a long time before daring to tell my family that everyone had to pay 20 yuan. I was afraid that Liu Zhenhua would become like that.

Just then, the skewers arrived. Liu Zhenhua picked up a skewer of grilled meat, bit into it, and pulled it into his mouth with a flick of his arm, leaving traces of seasoning on the corners of his mouth.

“I know our family situation. I’m not Ma Jiye.” Ma Jiye is the youngest son who was fooled throughout the entire movie.

"So, what's the situation with our family?"

"It's not that we can't afford barbecue skewers, it's that Zhajiangmian (noodles with soybean paste) is more cost-effective."

Excellent! So gratifying! I've already posted over 10,000 words and just realized I forgot to ask for votes these past two days, but you guys didn't forget, and the votes are still skyrocketing...

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(End of this chapter)