Cyber ​​Sword Immortal Iron Rain

"Medical Oncology".

There is also a line of smaller words in the lower right corner, which reads "Union Medical College Affiliated Hospital".

"Ah...ah! Yes, I'm sick and I came to see a doctor..."

Fang Bailu looked at the bottom of the sign - there, the door of the department was ajar; he could hear a deliberately low but still loud voice:

"Can't you just open it?"

"We don't recommend this kind of treatment. Advanced patients are very likely to relapse after surgery, and the interval is not long. The survival period... is also relatively short..."

"How long is it?"

"Generally speaking, at this stage, the chance of surviving five years after surgery is only about... one in five. Of course, this is also a conservative estimate."

"..."

As if receiving no further questions, the voice continued:

"So it's better to combine chemotherapy with targeted drugs for a period of time before considering removing the lesion. The treatment plan can be further studied. After all, the patient is still relatively young, and..."

Suddenly, someone held Fang Bailu's hand. It was a right hand that had been worn out over the years, with loose skin and weak muscles. It held Fang Bailu's palm tightly, shaking.

Of course, in an instant, Fang Bailu recognized this hand that had touched him the first time since he was born:

"mom……?"

He turned his head and saw his mother, who was no longer young.

She was still wearing the scarlet shorts with two bright white buttons; her two big round ears drooped due to nervousness and fear; and her pair of orange shoes paced restlessly.

The mother also turned around and grabbed Fang Bailu's arm with her black right hand, which had taken off its white glove, as if she was afraid that he would grow wings and fly away through the ceiling. Her long oval eyes were filled with Fang Bailu's indescribable emotions.

Did mom look like this before? Is that right? She looks a bit like... an animal...

Looking at the face that was completely different from his own and the people around him: the tip of his mother's pure black nose was trembling. A trace of doubt flashed through Fang Bailu's mind, and then disappeared.

"Have I never really looked at her face...?"

Fang Bailu lowered his head, avoiding her gaze. Somehow, he felt a little ashamed: this was all his fault. Because of his birth, growing up, illness, and his not-too-distant future death, he was going to hurt the people he loved and who loved him.

Would it be better if I had never lived? I wouldn't have to experience pain, I wouldn't have to fight against the fate that would eventually crush me, I wouldn't have to feel the sorrow of my loved ones; without myself, I might be a better person, occupying Fang Bailu's current position...

Snapped!

My father walked out of the department and closed the door of the clinic behind him.

His bright yellow fur was covered with dust and even tangled and matted due to days of running around and fatigue; it looked like a layer of dirty rags. Small electric currents passed through his father's body, exploding sparks - Fang Bailu knew his father, and this represented his frustration and sadness.

The father walked up to them, dragging his long tail in the shape of lightning. Fang Bailu could smell the slight but already emerging scent of old age:

"The doctor said that we should cooperate with the treatment. For this, we don't even need to have surgery yet! Let's do some other treatments first..."

The father raised his short hand, as if he wanted to touch Fang Bailu's head; but in the end he just put his hand on his back and patted it gently.

"Yes, you must cooperate with the treatment. Be good..."

The mother hugged Fang Bailu, as if she wanted to hold this eternal child in her arms; but her son was already much taller than she was, so she could only lean herself against her son.

Next to the door of the clinic, there was a poster half the height of the door - many cute cartoon characters were clustered in it. The poster was facing Fang Bailu, and he could see a line of cursive words printed in a playful font:

“Just subscribe and everything will be fine.”

"……it is good."

Finally, Fang Bailu responded softly, stretched out his hands and pulled his parents to his side.

He felt his mother sobbing quietly, while his father said nothing, as if he had never spoken before. Fang Bailu wanted to cry, but he only felt the endless emptiness beneath his life.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

But he said it anyway.

Chapter 216: The Third Day of Evil and Rebellion (IV)

Fang Bailu looked at the pure black infusion bag - in order to avoid light, the chemotherapy drugs were wrapped in a layer of ink-black bag, which also covered the oxaliplatin solution inside.

"I wonder what color the potion is?"

After thinking for a moment, Fang Bailu turned his shaved head and put aside the question that popped up in boredom.

An orange-yellow infusion tube hung diagonally from a bracket, connected to a central venous catheter implanted subcutaneously in his chest: Fang Bailu needed long-term chemotherapy; in addition to this winding tube, an indwelling needle was also placed in his forearm.

Although it was already autumn and the cool breeze blew in through the screen window of the ward, dispelling some of the gloomy and sickly air in the room, the sweat from Fang Bailu's back still soaked through the striped hospital gown.

Maybe it was because of the third-stage liver cancer, or maybe it was because of complications; his night sweats were getting worse and worse. Often, after just two or three sips of porridge, dense sweat would appear on his body, and his hands would be covered with water stains after a wipe.

However, Fang Bailu hasn't had an appetite for a long time.

Sometimes he felt that the rest of his life was escaping from his increasingly emaciated body drop by drop with the salt water oozing out of his pores.

As for the drugs that slowly flowed into his blood vessels from the infusion bag... Fang Bailu did not feel uncomfortable during the infusion; what made him painful was the part after the infusion was over.

The first thing was naturally vomiting - even though he had heard about it before, the intensity of the vomiting still exceeded his imagination.

Dinner, the leftovers of dinner, the next dinner to be eaten after the last round of vomiting, gastric juice, bile (originally bile was bitter, yellow with a hint of green)… after vomiting everything out, I still felt like vomiting.

Fang Bailu sometimes wanted to shove his hand down his throat and pull his entire digestive system out of his body. Of course, this was impossible - the human body was so fragile, yet so intricately connected.

"I want a body made of iron..."

Sometimes he thought so.

Whenever he was sitting in front of a chamber pot or toilet with his face covered in snot, tears and saliva, Fang Bailu would be glad that he had a shaved head; he could not imagine how he could vomit without getting his hair stained with dirt.

In addition, he also suffered from ulcers: large and small white spots covered Fang Bailu's mouth; every time he drank water, it seemed as if there were countless blades mixed in the water.

If death could be an option, Fang Bailu might be inclined to make this decision: Of course, it is not. Because just like the propaganda posters on the ceiling say - everything will always be fine; so before the result appears, he can continue to linger on.

He moved on the hospital bed, trying to adjust to a comfortable position: no matter how seriously ill he was, his father could not afford a months-long vacation, and today was the day he went back to work; his mother had to go "to do something".

Fang Bailu suspected that his mother was selling things at home to pay for the expenses and better medical care - but he could not confirm it and was powerless to change it.

……

This is a six-person ward, but there are only two patients. This number is enough: the pale cold light shines between the beds, lingering with a despairing numbness; there are fewer people, and less gloomy atmosphere.

hiss-

Suddenly, the curtain of the bed next to Fang Bailu was pulled open, revealing the patient next to her for the first time in these days.

He turned his head slightly and met a pair of emerald green eyes. If it wasn't cosmetic contact lenses, it would be a rare eye color; there was also light golden, haphazardly trimmed short hair, and a straight nose and sword-like eyebrows that were more masculine.

"What a fierce face, is he a foreigner?"

For some reason, Fang Bailu always felt that he had seen this face somewhere.

What caught my eye next was the right sleeve of the girl's hospital gown - it was empty and tied in a knot just below the shoulder.

She raised her remaining left arm and pointed at the IV bag above Fang Bailu's head:

"How many times?"

Fang Bailu supported himself on the hospital bed and climbed up - just by doing this simple action, the liver area in the upper right abdomen hurt as if a fruit knife was stabbed into it - then he raised his hand and stretched out four fingers.

He avoided looking at the other person's bare right arm: it was always impolite to look at someone else's disability, even though he himself was only half dead.

"Oh, that's hard work." As if she noticed Fang Bailu's deliberate averting of her gaze, the girl raised the small stump of her right limb below her shoulder. "Osteosarcoma, amputation."

A strange thought flashed through Fang Bailu's mind for a moment - it seemed that a long time ago, she didn't have a right hand... But how long ago was that? How could she know?

He turned his eyes and saw a patient information card inserted in the groove on the headboard of the bed: on it, four words were written crookedly in oil pen - "Anbenola". A foreigner, a strange name.

The girl named Anbenola fiddled with the knot on her sleeve and continued on her own:

"Well, it still spread after the amputation. I shouldn't have done it earlier, huh? What about you? What's wrong with you?"

“Stage 3 liver cancer.”

Fang Bailu straightened up as much as possible, adjusted the IV tube, and asked his own question:

"Have we met before?"

"I was in the bed next to yours, so of course I've seen you a few times. I often saw you vomiting in the toilet."

"Ah, no, I mean before that... I feel like I've known you for a long time."

After a while, Anbenola finally gave an unclear answer:

"Oh...really? I guess so."

Silence. Fang Bailu fiddled with the infusion tube that he couldn't straighten, and An Bennola tied another knot on the sleeve.

Suddenly, she spoke:

"Actually, you don't want to do this treatment. Do you think it would be better to die?"

Although he had never discussed this with other people, Fang Bailu felt that this question was very sharp and even offensive to patients like them. But after thinking about it, he gave his own answer:

"Maybe you can only get the answer if you live, but you won't know if you die."

"Yeah... that's right. By the way, why aren't your parents human?" She put her left hand on top of her head, drawing long and round ears; "This is the first time I've seen such a big mouse."

Rat...rat?

This inexplicable question was like a sharp object piercing his mind, but he couldn't understand it vaguely. He wanted to picture his parents in his mind, but there was only a chaotic blank.

"Also, where are we? It seems that our ward is the only one in the entire Union Hospital. Have you looked out the window? Except for the wind, everything is——"

squeak...

The door of the ward opened suddenly, and the axle that had not been lubricated for a long time made a harsh noise, which also made Anbennola silent.

A strong and warm wind blew in from the door, and there was dazzling sunlight. With just a quick glance, one could tell that the area outside the ward was not a corridor, but led to another place.

"Son, son! Come here, come to us!"

A distant call came from outside the door, it was my mother's voice.

Fang Bailu stood up, holding onto the IV stand and a corner of the bed. From an angle, he could see the tombstones standing in the bush outside the ward entrance.

A new signboard appeared on the door frame of the ward at some point, explaining where the door led to: "↑Miaofengshan Cemetery".

Anbenola, who was sitting on the hospital bed, raised his head, his eyes were like deep pools, cold and hot:

"I think it's best if you don't go."

Fang Bailu shook his head and held onto the IV stand, using it as a crutch:

"I think I remember what happened..."

……

He ignored Anbenola behind him, moved the IV stand with wheels, and staggered out of the ward and into the cemetery. It was a cool autumn in the ward, but outside the door was a sultry summer; the scorching air enveloped him, keeping him in this daze.

The tombs are arranged from top to bottom like terraces, leaving only narrow paths and stairs for people to pass through. Although the tombs are densely packed, each only occupies an area of ​​1.5 meters square; they seem to have no owners yet, so there are no tombstones, only gray "Fu" characters printed on the marble backboards.

“Here!”

Mom and Dad waved to Fang Bailu. They held flowers, fruits, and mooncakes they brought from their hometown; the food was served on a porcelain plate, as if ready to be placed in front of the tombstone next to them.

They still had the same furry, animal-like appearance, completely different from Fang Bailu. But their human-like faces were both excited and nervous; the mother rubbed her pale gloves, and the father's long tail was wagging up and down.

Chapter 217: The Third Day of Evil and Rebellion (V)

Fang Bailu put the IV stand in front of him and slowly moved to his parents' side. The pain from his liver area made him spasm and gasp for air; sweat all over his body flowed through his trouser legs, leaving a trail of water behind him.

"Mom and Dad prepared this for you. Do you like it?"

Following the direction their funny front limbs were pointing, Fang Bailu saw his own tombstone.

On the tombstone, there are gray words engraved in relief - because the person written on it has not been buried yet, so it has not been painted red or gold - "Eldest son Fang Bailu". In the four corners of the name, the four characters "Fuzhou Shouyu" are printed in red, representing the hometown of the tomb owner; a line of small vertical characters records the time: "Built in Jilin in the autumn of 2020".

"This is for you. We come to see you every year."

Fang Bailu wiped his cracked and peeling lips with the back of his hand and looked around:

"Why... is there only my tombstone here?"

"Dad/Mom don't need it!" The parents each raised one leg, put their palms together, and made a pose that only appeared in cartoons, and answered in unison; "Son, Mom and Dad will not die."