The Last Mr. Dongguo

Wu Lian knocked on the door of Hu Lan's office.

The European-style decor made the office lose its original purpose, and the off-white furniture gave Hu Lan a chill. Blue and white porcelain cups held verdant tea, famous paintings hung on the wallpaper, and the desk, which should have been filled with medical records, only had a computer playing a popular TV series.

"Dr. Hu, please take a look at my illness..."

Wu Lian carefully and tremblingly placed an envelope on Hu Lan's empty desk. Hu Lan glanced at Wu Lian, felt the thickness of the envelope, and then skillfully tucked it into the drawer in her arms, a forced smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, it's Mr. Wu. Hello, hello, please have a seat." Hu Lan gestured for him to sit on the European-style sofa. "I was just about to call you to discuss our next treatment plan."

"Okay, okay," Wu Lian seemed to see a glimmer of hope. He carefully sat down on the sofa, but kept his back straight, as he couldn't afford to damage it. "So, Dr. Hu, what's your plan for my condition?"

"Yes, that's how it is. You'll need to get a full checkup first to see if the tumor has grown since then. After that, I'll develop a surgical plan and try to have the surgery done as soon as possible." Hu Lan leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and said, "You should know that our country's medical technology has advanced by leaps and bounds. This kind of surgery shouldn't be a problem, don't worry!"

"Okay, okay, thank you in advance, Dr. Hu." Wu Lian quickly stood up, feeling that his sweat had soaked the sofa.

The printer started working again, and soon a stack of inspection forms were handed to Wu Lian.

"Go to the second floor to have your blood drawn first, then go to the third floor for the examination."

Looking at the thick stack of forms, Wu Lian asked, "Are these... covered by medical insurance?"

"Of course, these are all routine checks."

"The tests were all done, and the medical insurance procedures were completed. I thought my hope had finally arrived. But unexpectedly, the surgery was delayed for a long time. I went to see Hu Lan several more times, but he always said there was a waiting list or that there were limited beds. But I knew I couldn't delay any longer. When I went to see him for the last time, he finally confirmed the surgery time with me, but..." Wu Lian took off her wig. Under the layers of gauze on her scalp, blood oozed out, a glaring, terrifying red, like rotting flesh left out for days in the sweltering summer, seemingly ready to be visited by flies. "The surgery failed. I... I completely failed!"

"I know I don't have much time left to live, and I don't have time to argue with Hu Lan and Feng Zi anymore. But every day I can live is a day more, and I'm out of money to survive. No hospital will admit a penniless man to prolong his life. So I thought of committing a crime. It would settle my years of grudges and get me into this hospital room—a win-win situation. I've seen on TV that the police don't ignore a criminal's life or death before convicting them, and that's exactly what I need." Wu Lian looked around the room, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "What I've lost, I will take back with my blood!"

Cheng Luan was shocked. He never expected that someone would commit a crime in order to be hospitalized for treatment. Why would that be?

"Captain Cheng, could you grant me two small requests?" Wu Lian wiped his swollen eyes, and in his pleading gaze, Cheng Luan saw the last words of a dying man.

"you say."

"I want to see my elderly mother and daughter."

"Okay, I promise you." Cheng Luan didn't hesitate. "I'll have someone make the arrangements."

"No, wait a minute, I want to see my mother in the detention center."

Why?

"My mother doesn't know I have an illness, but I'm afraid I can't hide the fact that I killed someone."

"Okay, I'll arrange it!"

The clanging of shackles was particularly loud in the empty and silent prison corridors.

Two prison guards escorted a middle-aged man into the visiting room, where an elderly man with white hair was already waiting. The moment he saw the middle-aged man enter, the old man stood up unsteadily, his dim eyes filled with tears.

From the moment he entered, the old man's gaze never left him. After the middle-aged man sat down, the old man slowly raised his withered right hand, as if to wipe away the middle-aged man's tears, but the glass in front of him blocked his movement.

The old woman was startled and subconsciously looked at her right hand, then at her surroundings, as if only then did she realize her predicament.

The middle-aged man quickly raised his left hand and aligned it with his mother's through the glass, but he dared not meet her gaze. He tried to suppress his pain in front of his mother, but the result only made his face contort.

"Child...child..." After a brief silence, the old man spoke through the glass.

The middle-aged man quickly grabbed the phone in front of him and pointed to the landline in front of his mother.

The old man's gaze remained fixed on the middle-aged man's face, his chapped lips opening and closing.

The middle-aged man knocked on the glass, and only then did the old man notice the phone in front of him. Seeing the middle-aged man put the receiver to his ear, the old man hesitated before answering the phone.

"Mom!" came the familiar voice of her son, slightly choked with sobs, through the receiver.

"Hey! Child, have you eaten?"

Simple yet deeply affectionate care.

The middle-aged man nodded.

The two finally couldn't hold back their tears.

The old man seemed to suddenly realize something, and quickly grabbed the cloth bag next to him and took out a family photo from it.

"Child, Mom has brought what you wanted," the old woman said, straightening the photo and placing it on the glass. "Mom accidentally broke it."

The middle-aged man looked at the crack on the glass of the picture frame and shook his head. "Mom, it's okay, it's okay, Mom."

The old man looked around, nodded, and made a gesture as if to put the photo in, handing it to the prison guard beside him.

"Be careful, don't damage it again," the old man warned the prison guard, very worried that the photo would be ruined again. Watching the photo being passed around carelessly by the guard, the old man wanted to chase after him but didn't have the courage, so he could only follow the photo with his eyes as it disappeared around the corner.

Helplessness, loss, pain, worry—a mix of emotions.

"Child, can you tell your mother why this happened?" The old woman looked at her son with a puzzled, sad, and stern gaze. Even now, she still couldn't understand how her intelligent son had ended up like this.

The middle-aged man gripped the microphone tightly in his right hand, tears streaming down his face, but he couldn't speak. He didn't know how to explain his actions or how to comfort his mother.

Suddenly, the old woman put down the phone, her resolute eyes now devoid of tears. Through the glass, she touched her chest, pointed to her son across the way, then slowly raised her hand and pointed again. Her determined gaze held a strong questioning tone; time seemed to stand still, leaving only two pairs of eyes locked in a long, unwavering gaze through the glass. After a moment, the old woman, leaning on a stool, slowly turned and left, leaving only the middle-aged man holding the phone, repeatedly calling "Mom," but his mother could no longer hear him.