The one-eyed man lay motionless on the hospital bed, his expression indifferent, gaze turned aside, untouched by emotion, not even a single thought stirring within him.
He acknowledged the reality of the situation.
Temporary paralysis of his right leg.
"How do you feel? Did your eye grow back?"
Lin Fan and Old Zhang, ever shameless, pounced on him the moment he returned. Zhang's heart was restless—this was the second time he'd administered acupuncture, and it shouldn't have failed.
The one-eyed man paid them no attention.
He had already grasped the truth—these two were lunatics, perhaps unaware even of their own actions. How had he ended up engaging with madmen?
The result was clear: two blackouts, and now, temporary paralysis in his right leg.
A heavy-handed outcome.
No matter what those two asked, he wouldn't utter another word.
There were sinister forces lurking in Yanhai City, dangers aplenty. He didn't have the luxury to waste time with these lunatics. It was his own foolishness, really—getting burned once and learning nothing, only to suffer again.
In other words, brainless.
"He must be thrilled," Lin Fan declared.
"That's why he's ignoring us," Old Zhang added.
"Mm..."
They whispered among themselves, exchanging hushed nonsense.
Zhang Hongmin was on edge. Another madman had arrived—this one with a severe expression and a strong, imposing build. If he lost control, could Zhang protect his beloved daughter with his own small frame?
No. Even if it cost him his life, he would protect her.
If the one-eyed man knew what Zhang Hongmin was thinking, he'd likely erupt—You're the crazy one! He had been tricked by lunatics, but that didn't mean he'd tolerate insult.
At that moment—
Lin Fan pointed to the little girl on the bed. "She's in pain. I can feel it."
"Need me to stick a few needles in her?" Old Zhang offered.
"No. You can't touch her. She's an angel. I can see it. Angels mustn't be needled." Lin Fan replied solemnly.
"Oh. Then... does she need soy milk?" Zhang asked.
The two of them sat cross-legged on the bed, conversing with deadpan faces.
Zhang Hongmin felt a chill creeping over him, his body tense, his mind under pressure. Only now did he realize how dangerous it was to share a ward with the mentally unstable.
He stood protectively in front of his daughter, like a lion ready to pounce, glaring at Lin Fan and Old Zhang. His stance said it all: You'll have to get through me first.
Just then, a white-haired doctor entered the ward.
Zhang Hongmin's eyes lit up. He rushed forward—this was his daughter's attending physician, a kind man who'd helped him through tough times, even organizing a donation campaign to offset their medical expenses.
"Doctor, is there hope? Have we found a matching donor?"
His face was alight with hope.
His daughter had waited for months, endured endless pre-transplant procedures.
The doctor met his gaze but said nothing, only shook his head.
Zhang's hopeful expression crumbled. He swayed, barely able to stand, clutching the bed rail for support, muttering to himself.
"How could this happen…"
The doctor tried to console him. "We're searching tirelessly. If a match is found, you'll be the first to know."
Zhang Hongmin collapsed to the floor, burying his face in his hands. His voice was hoarse. "But can she wait that long? We've run out of money."
The doctor sighed—utterly helpless.
"I saw a news report like this on TV once," Lin Fan said. "If that's the case, I can donate."
"He can too."
"And him."
Lin Fan pointed to himself, to Old Zhang, and then to the one-eyed man.
"Donate what?" Old Zhang looked bewildered, clutching his silver needle case tightly. "Anything but my needles."
"Haematopoietic stem cells."
"What's that?"
"No idea. I just saw it on TV."
If anyone was most baffled, it was the one-eyed man.
He didn't want anything to do with the lunatics. He hadn't even spoken. In fact, he planned to leave tonight. A paralyzed leg wasn't enough to stop someone like him.
But now these lunatics were talking about donating his stem cells—without even asking him?
And yet… if even they were willing to donate, wouldn't rejecting it mean he was worse than a lunatic?
Damn it. Fine. If you insist, I'll go along with it.
The white-haired doctor, hearing this, turned to the trio—and suddenly, realization dawned. He had nearly forgotten: there were two psychiatric patients in this room. And just now, he'd treated them as normal people.
If they had an episode, the consequences would be dire.
But right now, none of that mattered.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes," Lin Fan replied calmly.
"Me too," Old Zhang added. "Whatever he donates, I'll donate. But I need Sprite first."
"I want Coke."
The one-eyed man didn't possess such compassion, but he couldn't let himself be outdone by lunatics. He nodded in silent agreement.
Zhang Hongmin stood there, mouth agape. He couldn't believe it. These people he had feared, these "lunatics," were volunteering to help—even knowing there was no guarantee of a match. He was deeply moved.
He stepped toward Lin Fan's bed, trying to take his hand, only for Lin Fan to dodge away in disgust. Zhang sank to his knees beside the bed.
"Thank you…" Tears welled in his eyes, guilt and shame swelling within him.
"Go away."
Lin Fan shoved him aside. This man was strange—crying without cause, giving thanks for no reason, and now kneeling in front of him, blocking his view.
He turned to the little girl, his eyes narrowing as a bright smile lit up his face, revealing gleaming white teeth.
The smile made the white-haired doctor's skin crawl.
That smile could haunt dreams. It was eerie. Chilling. Bone-deep.
And yet, the girl lying in pain on the bed broke into a radiant smile of her own.
She adored this strange big brother's smile.
It was like something from a cartoon—a smile that warmed the soul.
The scene, for a fleeting moment, was beautiful.
But that warmth was something others couldn't feel.
Every adult who saw Lin Fan's smile felt only dread. Something uncanny. Sinister.
Then—
Everything became simple.
Just a matter of drawing blood and confirming compatibility.
Lin Fan and Old Zhang were VIP patients of the hospital. Their medical data had long been recorded. No time needed to be wasted.
Old Zhang leaned in and whispered, "He seems really broke."
"Do you have any money?" Lin Fan asked.
"No."
"Me neither."
Old Zhang scratched his head, then lovingly stroked the cheap wristwatch on his arm. He climbed off the bed, crouched next to the one-eyed man's bed, and whispered—
"Wanna buy a watch?"
"A Rolex."
"A symbol of nobility."
"You buy it, I'll throw in one more acupuncture session for free. Tempted?"
(End of Chapter)