One Third Remaining Chapter Fifty-Three: Sworn Brotherhood

Drip, drip.

Yellow Hair watched as the red liquid in the blood bag trickled down, drop by drop, then flowed through the transfusion tube into Hou San’s body. After the 1,576th drop, he saw Hou San’s eyes slowly open. Clicking his tongue in admiration, Yellow Hair remarked, “This is called blood for blood—very scientific. That’s why you need professionals for professional work.”

Zhu Dachang paid no mind to Yellow Hair’s ramblings. He quickly strode to Hou San’s bedside, his voice brimming with excitement. “San-ge, you’re awake!”

Hou San struggled with heavy eyelids, nodded slightly, and glanced around. Fixing his gaze on the white sheet covering him, he asked in a weak voice, “Where am I?”

“The hospital, of course…” Zhu Dachang chuckled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Hou San was instantly alarmed and tried to sit up in a panic. “You fool, how could you bring me to a hospital? No, we have to leave right now. If we’re late, we won’t be able to get out at all…”

Yellow Hair interjected suddenly, “San-ge, recovering from illness is like raising a tiger—if you don’t treat a small sickness, it will become a big one. Nothing is more important than your life, no matter how serious the matter.”

Hou San turned toward Yellow Hair, frowning. “What are you doing here, you little rascal?”

Zhu Dachang bent down and whispered a few words in Hou San’s ear, then conveniently sat by the bedside, pressing Hou San back onto the bed and tucking him in again. With a self-satisfied grin, he said, “San-ge, just rest and get well. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Very well…” Hou San exhaled deeply, then clasped his hands together and smiled at Yellow Hair. “Thank you, brother, for your help. Once I’m healed, I’ll make sure to thank you properly. Let’s put the past behind us—after all, we’re all people of the brotherhood. Let bygones be bygones.”

“A fine sentiment—let bygones be bygones,” Yellow Hair laughed heartily. “From today onward, the two of you are my sworn brothers.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit three, and placed them on the small table by the bed. Then he pulled out a small tin, unscrewing the lid. “We should really be burning yellow paper and sacrificing a chicken, but given the circumstances, this will have to do. Sincerity is what counts. I’ll go first out of respect!”

With that, Yellow Hair lifted the tin, took a hearty swig, smacked his lips contentedly, and handed the tin to Zhu Dachang. “Fatty, please!”

Zhu Dachang looked at the tin in his hand, then glanced at Hou San. Seeing Hou San nod ever so slightly, he sniffed the aroma of the liquor, wrinkled his nose, pinched it shut, and poured a mouthful down his throat. Grimacing, he passed the tin to Hou San and muttered, “Not as good as Wahaha.”

Hou San took the tin and, without hesitation, gulped down half the contents. His cheeks flushed. “Good liquor!”

Yellow Hair clapped his hands in appreciation. “San-ge can really hold his drink!” He picked up the three cigarettes from the table and handed one each to Hou San and Zhu Dachang. “Once we finish these, the three of us are an iron triangle—nobody can break us apart!”

Hou San held the cigarette between his fingers, took a deep drag, and blew out a smoke ring. Narrowing his eyes at Yellow Hair, he grinned without warmth. “Well said. You city folks really are a cut above us country lads—always so eloquent.”

Yellow Hair, unfazed, quietly reclaimed the tin. He glanced at the remaining half bottle with a pang of regret, sniffed, and was about to take another swig when a young doctor in a white coat and glasses entered the room, halting him in his tracks.

“You’re awake?” The young doctor glanced at Hou San. “You’re in good shape. No wonder you managed to get to the hospital after losing so much blood. Don’t take it lightly next time; too much blood loss can be fatal. Don’t count on luck saving you every time.”

Yellow Hair chimed in with a grin, “Exactly, San-ge. Don’t ignore your ailments in the future. We really have to thank Dr. Wang here—if it weren’t for his skillful hands, you might be playing mahjong with the King of Hell right now.”

“Always with a cigarette, always with a drink,” Dr. Wang sneered. “Quoting proverbs like a scholar—do you think you’re a graduate student or something? Now that he’s awake, shouldn’t you go register and pay your fees? And…” He pointed to the no smoking sign on the wall. “Can’t you see those big letters? What are you doing?”

Hou San forced a smile, hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette, and tried to smooth things over. “Sorry, we’re country folk—didn’t realize city hospitals had so many rules. We’ll take care of it right away!”

“Your wound was already infected. I just finished cutting away the dead tissue,” Dr. Wang said coldly to Hou San. “I’m telling you to avoid smoking and drinking for your own good. Do you want to lose your whole backside? If you do, I can help with that right now…”

At the mention of Dr. Wang cutting Hou San’s backside, Zhu Dachang’s face instantly darkened. He bared his teeth and glared at the doctor, looking ready to pounce.

Yellow Hair quickly capped the tin, shoved it back in his pocket, tossed his cigarette butt, and tried to ease the tension. “Dr. Wang, you’re joking. A doctor’s heart is like a parent’s—how could you possibly have the heart to cut someone’s backside? We just got a little carried away with happiness when San-ge woke up. It won’t happen again!”

“I’ve already said my piece. If I catch you drinking or smoking in the ward again, I won’t be so nice next time…” Dr. Wang put his hands in his pockets and strolled out. “I just reviewed the brain scan—nothing serious, just a mild concussion. Stay in the hospital for observation. Once the wound on your backside heals, you can be discharged…”

“Thank you, doctor. Take care!” Yellow Hair called after him insincerely. Then, turning to Zhu Dachang, he spoke in a wheedling tone, “Fatty, now that we’re brothers, I’ll be blunt. Normally, as a brother, I’d pay for San-ge’s treatment without a word, but I’m really strapped for cash lately…”

Hou San chuckled. “Don’t worry about the money, brother. But I will need to borrow your ID.”

Yellow Hair breathed a sigh of relief, pulled out his ID, and slapped it on the little table by the bed. “No problem—Fatty already told me. Use it as you need!” Just then, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. Pulling it out and glancing at the caller ID, his expression changed. He smiled apologetically at Hou San. “San-ge, I need to take this call. Let Fatty handle the registration and paperwork, alright?”

Hou San waved his hand, looking understanding. “Go ahead, take care of your business…” Once Yellow Hair had left the room, a cold smile curled at Hou San’s lips. “That rascal, pretending to be all helpful, terrified I’ll spend a cent of his money. Even came up with such a clumsy excuse—sworn brother, my foot. City folk really are two-faced—half human, half dog. Pah!”

Zhu Dachang blinked thoughtfully at Hou San, then gave him a thumbs-up, full of admiration. “San-ge, you really are shrewd—a true old hand. I didn’t pick up on his act at all…”

Suddenly remembering something, Zhu Dachang straightened his face. “San-ge, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say…”

Hou San stared expressionlessly at Zhu Dachang’s backside. “What is it? Out with it if you’ve got something to say!”

Zhu Dachang stroked his chin, frowned in concentration, and said seriously, “That Dr. Wang—he seems awfully familiar…”

“I thought you were going to say something important. Lots of people look familiar at first glance—nothing strange about that…” Hou San exhaled, his face dark with irritation as he tried to keep his voice steady. “Zhu Dachang, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say, too…”

Zhu Dachang looked at him blankly, sitting up straight, all ears.

Hou San pointed at the red tube beneath Zhu Dachang’s backside and shouted, “You’re sitting on my IV line! Open your eyes and take a good look—the blood’s backing up!”