Volume 1, Chapter 35: Throwing Herself into His Arms

To be honest, I felt quite envious. Especially when the young woman we had cured came out personally to offer a toast, a sense of accomplishment welled up inside me.

Once that young woman tidied herself up, she was truly quite pretty. She might not have been a high-born lady, but she was certainly a charming, quiet, and lovely girl-next-door type.

The thing was, when she looked at me, her face turned quite red—and I turned even redder than she did. As she shyly offered me the toast, I held my drink and deliberately avoided her gaze. Her bashful demeanor made it seem as if we were the ones getting married.

The Taoist was busy boasting to the villagers when a woman—well, let’s just say a middle-aged woman—stood at the entrance, surveying the lively scene in the courtyard. Once she locked eyes with the Taoist, she immediately trotted over to him, plopped down on her knees, and burst into uncontrollable tears. She was so overcome with emotion that she couldn’t even get a word out.

I was baffled. I’ve seen my fair share of things; back in the countryside, there were troupes—not performance troupes per se, but those hired for weddings and funerals, dancing at weddings and singing at funerals, performing things like the "Crying Through the Seven Gates." At first, I really thought this was a program arranged by the host. Just as people hire professionals to wail at funerals, I thought someone might have been hired to put on this act to express gratitude.

But when I looked at the man hosting the banquet, he looked just as bewildered. Judging by his expression, this woman was not part of the plan.

The guests stopped their toasts and chatter, all staring intently at the Taoist. Some whispered, while others muttered to themselves. The Taoist, transforming into a sympathetic older brother, helped the kneeling woman up and sat her to one side, holding her hands to comfort her. If there hadn’t been so many people around, I suspect the old Taoist would have pulled her into a full embrace.

They sat side by side, the Taoist holding her hands, murmuring constantly, "Don't cry, don't cry. Whatever the problem is, we’ll solve it. Don't cry yourself sick."

The woman sobbed for a long time—I was actually worried she might pass out. After about ten minutes, she stammered, "My... my daughter... my daughter is dying. She won't make it."

The Taoist was startled. "Lead the way, I’ll take a look." He then cupped his hands to the crowd and said, "My friends, my apologies. A life is at stake, so I must take my leave. Please, enjoy the food and drink." I hastily shoved a large mouthful of stir-fried dried tofu and hot peppers into my mouth.

The woman was too distraught to walk, and it was hard to imagine how she had even ridden a bicycle here. The host was decent enough to immediately call for a farm tractor to take us over. I used to think that guys riding motorcycles with subwoofers were the coolest, but after sitting on a farm tractor, I realized what the peak of life really felt like. Don't laugh—my childhood dream was to own a farm tractor; compared to a motorcycle, a tractor is the real deal. The woman lived in Nanlingzi Village, not far from the county town.

On the way, the woman explained that her daughter had the same condition. One day, she just couldn't get out of bed. She lay at home, then they took her to the hospital, but every test came back clear—no illness. They sought help everywhere, but it was useless. She lay at home for half a year, and a few days ago, she suddenly started vomiting blood and stopped eating. They took her back to the hospital, but the doctors said there was nothing wrong and sent her home again, which was basically their way of saying she was waiting to die.

I swore to myself that if the Taoist made me go back up the mountain to find spirit ginseng, I would burn down his woodpile and let the old bastard freeze to death in the winter.

When we arrived at the woman's home, the courtyard was already crowded with people, and the funeral staff had already set up the mortuary bed. Seeing this, the woman became even more hysterical and stumbled forward, knocking over the bed.

A large man walked over, grabbed the woman, and slapped her twice, cursing, "Stop causing a scene! Let the child go in peace, I’m begging you." The woman felt even more wronged and sat on the ground, wailing. It was a sight that would make even a heart of stone weep.

The Taoist walked over and said, "Where is the child? Let me see her."

The man roared, "Get lost! Stop adding to the mess!"

This stopped the Taoist in his tracks. A few seconds later, he asked again, "Where is she? Let me take a look."

"What time do you think it is? Still here trying to scam people? Don't you have any shred of humanity left?" As he finished, tears streamed down the man's face. A parent burying a child—the ultimate human tragedy.

The Taoist took a deep breath and walked straight into the house. An old man blocked his path and shouted angrily, "Hey, which village are you from? I’ve been hired to handle the funeral for this family."

The Taoist snorted and pushed the old man aside. Perhaps because he’d been drinking, he didn't gauge his strength well; the old man stumbled back and nearly fell.

Inside the room, a girl in her twenties lay on the kang, her mouth hanging open as she struggled to breathe. She was already dressed in burial clothes. What shocked me most was her complexion; it was as yellow and lifeless as a corpse. Everyone in the room was waiting for her to take her last breath.

The Taoist took one look and immediately shouted, "Shu Xu, go catch me a rooster, now!"

I didn't dare hesitate. There were no roosters in the courtyard, so I grabbed a large broom and ran out to the village road. I didn't care whose rooster it was; I just chased it down and swatted it with the broom.

To be honest, that rooster was an idiot. When it saw me coming, it actually tried to peck at me. Damn it, I hit it with the broom until it lay on the ground, kicking its legs.

The Taoist took the rooster, gave it a sharp twist, and plucked its head off. Holding the flapping bird, he began to sprinkle its blood over the girl.

The host cursed and tried to attack the Taoist, but the woman clung to his legs, and the others in the room held him back. The man cursed again, "Fine, look if you want! We have no money, do whatever you want!"

The Taoist turned back and roared, "I don’t want your money!"

The Taoist’s presence cowed the man. His expression was incredibly complex—fury, fear, grief, and suspicion all mixed together.

To everyone’s surprise, once the chicken blood was sprinkled on her, the girl’s breathing actually steadied.

An elder in the room said, "It’s the final flare-up before death. Hurry, say whatever you need to say to your parents."

The parents immediately threw themselves beside their daughter, crying and begging her not to go.

"Mom... I think... I think my body doesn't feel so heavy anymore."

The father was shocked and turned to look at the Taoist.

The old man who had been pushed over earlier said, "It’s the final flare-up, say your goodbyes quickly, don't leave any regrets."

"Shut the hell up!" the Taoist suddenly roared.

The girl's mother finally realized what was happening. She knelt before the Taoist, crying, "Master Ma, Master Ma, please save my child! I’m begging you, I’ll kowtow to you. My house, my land—it’s all yours."

The Taoist’s expression was cold. "It's too noisy in here. Everyone get out, get out! The person isn't going to die."

The man was still skeptical, but people sensibly left the room. They all stayed in the courtyard, though, and those who were curious even cupped their hands against the window to peek inside. The last one to leave was the old man who had been pushed, and he let out a sigh before stepping out.