Milo and his wife watched nervously as the doctor checked their son's pulse.
Their faces were filled with tension and worry, and their eyes showed deep affection and concern for the small child lying on the bed.
Milo removed the straw hat from his head, revealing neatly trimmed short hair — a clean, flat-top haircut.
Neither of them dared to speak.
Still, he gave Hannah a reassuring glance, gently squeezing her hand to comfort her.
Hannah wiped her tears with a handkerchief, her eyes red as she looked sadly at her son on the bed.
Milo helped his wife over to a stool at the side, then poured a cup of tea for the doctor.
Holding the tea in his hand, he quietly waited for the old doctor to finish checking the pulse.
The elderly doctor took the child's left wrist first, then switched to the right.
Lucia remained completely silent the whole time.
Aside from the dizziness and weakness in her body, she still had no idea what was going on.
She didn't dare speak much — saying too much could expose her.
She was terrified that someone might realize their son's soul had changed!
Then she heard the old doctor sigh softly.
"Sigh… this child had high fevers when he was little. His brain and body never developed as well as other children's.
Now he's running another fever — did something frighten him recently?"
Milo and Hannah looked at each other when they heard the doctor's words, remembering the wedding that had taken place in the village the day before.
Their son had been there too, and the sound of the firecrackers had been deafening.
"Doctor, there's nothing else unusual," Milo explained anxiously. "Yesterday, someone in our village was getting married, and the firecrackers were really loud. My boy cried and cried at the time."
Regret filled Milo's heart. If he had known the noise would frighten his son so badly, he would have kept the child at home instead of taking him along — now his son had fallen sick with a fever, and they had to spend money calling for a doctor and buying medicine.
What worried him even more was that his branch of the family had only one male heir. After having seven daughters, he and Hannah had finally been blessed with a son.
They treasured this boy dearly, though he was weaker than his sisters — slow to react, a bit dull, and often mistaken by others as a simpleton.
When Hannah had been pregnant, the doctor had said her body was too weak because her pregnancies were too close together. As a result, their youngest son was born underweight — only four pounds.
Over the years, he had been prone to frequent illnesses. Each time the seasons changed, or whenever there were loud noises like firecrackers, he would easily get frightened and develop a fever.
Milo quickly fetched pen and paper for the elderly doctor to write out a prescription.
"This is the prescription," the old doctor said as he wrote. "It's medicine for a child's cold and shock fever. Give it to him three times a day after boiling. The child's spirit seems fragile — keep him away from loud noises, firecrackers, or any crowded, noisy places."
As he wrote, the doctor spoke gently but firmly, repeating his instructions.
He had rushed over upon hearing that the child had a fever and had brought several packets of medicine suitable for different types of pediatric fevers — some for cold-related, some for heat-related, and some for fright-induced fevers.
He had also considered using acupuncture, but since he practiced traditional medicine, he decided against it for now — the boy looked too weak to endure it.
Milo and Hannah nodded repeatedly, full of guilt and remorse that their son had been frightened into falling ill.
"This will be enough for one day," said the doctor, handing over the medicine. "Take the prescription to the pharmacy and buy two more days' worth. If there's any left over, you can keep it for emergencies."
"Alright," Milo replied quickly, nodding in agreement.
The old doctor took out his silver needles and gently inserted a few into the small child lying on the bed.
Lucia felt the faint sting of the needles entering her body — like tiny ant bites, a prickling pain that spread slowly.
Yet compared to the deep ache in her body, this was nothing. After a short while, the pain eased, and she began to feel much more comfortable.
The old doctor removed the needles, lightly disinfected them, and placed them back into his medicine box, preparing to leave.
Milo escorted the doctor out, asking Harrison to take the old man back to the clinic. He paid the doctor his consultation fee on the spot and, though it pained him, handed more money to Harrison to buy additional medicine.
"Dad, how's little brother doing?"
The eldest daughter, Lena, came in from the backyard where she and her six younger sisters had been watering the vegetables in their small family garden.
Lena, now twelve years old, had the same graceful willow-like brows as her mother, Hannah. Her delicate, fair face with a rosy glow and almond-shaped beauty made her a striking young girl.
She was currently in her second year of middle school.
Since the village had built an elementary school a few years ago, most well-off families who valued education sent their sons there.
The Milo family, however, also made sure their daughters went to school — a decision that often drew gossip and criticism from others.
The second daughter, Lilian, was ten years old. She looked very much like her older sister — a refined little face, delicate features, and nearly the same height — they could easily be mistaken for twins.
She was in fifth grade.
The third daughter, Elaine, was nine, also with an oval face and fine features, resembling her sisters but still distinct in her own way.
She was in fourth grade.
The fourth daughter, Nora, was eight, with the same delicate face and graceful features as her elder sisters.
She was in third grade.
The fifth daughter, Yana, was seven — again, with the family's signature oval face.
She was in second grade.
The sixth daughter, Lana, was five — a tiny, slender child with the same pretty, almond-shaped face.
She wasn't in school yet.
The seventh daughter, Jing, was four, a soft, pale little girl with an adorably round, tender face.
All seven sisters wore red floral short-sleeved tops with blue pants — simple, clean, and bright.
The backyard was well-kept, with pebble stones laid along the walking paths to keep the area from getting muddy. As the sisters worked, if the ground got dirty, they would rinse it down with water, letting the runoff soak into the vegetable beds.
There was a water well in the backyard. Although people said there was a drought outside the region this year, their village was connected to a distant reservoir, so the fields here never lacked water.
Every household had its own well — enough not only for drinking, cooking, and washing, but also for raising livestock and watering vegetables.
Due to village regulations, each family could only raise a limited number of chickens according to the number of household members. Milo's family had just a few.
They also raised one pig each year — a "task pig" — which they sold at the end of the year to make up for the lost work points that Hannah and the children missed, exchanging it for grain.
The Milo household was large, though not overcrowded.
The older two daughters shared one room, the next four shared another, and the youngest son slept with Milo and Hannah.
Other rooms were kept for the "main house" — the grandparents' room — so that when the elder relatives returned to visit, they would have a place to stay.
There was also a cellar and a storage room. Like most rural homes, their land was spacious, and both the house and the family's private plot were distributed according to household size.
The livestock shed, made of mud bricks and tiles, stood in one corner of the property, near the toilet — far enough so that the smell wouldn't drift into the living quarters.
"Didn't you girls go to school today?" Milo asked, looking at his five oldest daughters.
The two youngest girls stayed home since they were still too small. Milo and Hannah planned to begin their early education when they were a bit older — together with their youngest son.
The daughters didn't work in the fields yet. Besides studying, they helped care for their younger sisters and fed the pig with chopped grass.
During the busiest harvest seasons, the youngest ones stayed at home, while Milo, as the team leader, arranged lighter work for his wife and children.
"Dad," said Lena, "we heard little brother was sick, so we asked for a day off to help Mom at home."
The other girls nodded in agreement.
"Alright," Milo said, "go help with making lunch. Your mother is in the kitchen preparing medicine for your brother."
"Yes, Dad," Lena replied, nodding. She took her second and third sisters, Lilian and Elaine, to wash their hands, while the rest of the younger girls stayed behind to finish the remaining chores.
Milo then returned to the room. He saw his wife, Hannah, still silently weeping beside their son. Stepping closer, he gently placed his hand on the boy's forehead — it was still burning hot, his body still feverish.
Worry filled Milo's heart, but he forced himself to speak calmly, trying to comfort his wife.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "Our boy is blessed. He'll be alright — he's going to get better soon."
Hannah wiped her tears, picked up the medicine, and went to the kitchen to brew it carefully.
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(End of Chapter)