With Song Yan's promise, the ponytail girl and her father thanked him profusely. They pushed the woman, whose eyes now shone with a glimmer of hope, back to the inpatient building.
As for Song Yan, he returned to his car.
However, before getting in, he met Yan Feifan's gaze once more and gave him a nod.
This confirmed for Yan Feifan that the man knew who he was...
Before leaving work, Yan Feifan also made a trip to the physical therapy department.
After a check-up, he received some mixed news.
His body had recovered quite a bit, but his bones were still somewhat porous, making it inadvisable for him to do any strength-training exercises.
The exercise recommendations Yan Feifan received were to go for a brisk walk for twenty to thirty minutes at least twice a day, go swimming, or join the aunties and uncles for some square dancing...
Yan Feifan didn't know how to swim, had no time for brisk walks, and as for square dancing—that was completely out of the question.
He asked the physical therapist for an instructional video on calisthenics, planning to learn them and exercise at home or in his office during his free time...
A little after 7:30 p.m., as soon as the Yan siblings got home, they were ambushed at the door by a waiting Tian Yu.
"Mr. Yan, Ruoruo, hurry and tell me about the rescue this morning."
Yan Feifan had no interest in recounting the tale, but Yan Ziruo, her face alight with excitement, began to tell Tian Yu all about it.
By the time Yan Feifan finished making dinner, he found his sister was still chattering away. The topic, however, had shifted to the story of the filial daughter selling herself to save her mother.
He gently placed the dishes on the coffee table and said flatly, "All that happened was the patient suffered more and spent more money. That's it."
"How can you say 'that's it'?"
For once, Tian Yu retorted, "Mr. Yan, when it comes to your closest family, I'd be willing to give up a lifetime of wealth to spend even one more month, one more day, or even just one more hour with them."
Yan Feifan didn't want to argue about such things with this young girl. He just instructed, "Go get the rice cooker. It's time to eat."
Tian Yu hopped off the sofa and scurried into the kitchen.
Yan Ziruo said with a straight face, "My dear brother, if I were ever in the same situation as that little girl, I would also give everything I have to save you."
Yan Feifan rolled his eyes and called her out. "You're probably just hoping some rich guy will come and take you off his hands, aren't you?"
"Hehe..."
Yan Ziruo said without a shred of embarrassment, "As expected of the little brother who grew up with me. You know me so well."
Just then, Tian Yu returned with the rice cooker, along with bowls and chopsticks.
As Yan Ziruo dished out the rice, she said, "I bet the reason that Song Yan fellow was so generous with his money is that he wanted to use this opportunity to stir up some buzz and get some publicity for himself and his company."
"Oh, Feifan..."
An idea suddenly struck Yan Ziruo, and she asked probingly, "I heard that if you get an organ transplant, it's possible to inherit some of the donor's memories, emotions, and habits."
"Is that true?"
"If that rich guy Song Yan really did get your heart, would he recognize me as his big sister?"
Yan Feifan shot her a withering look and shot back, "Even if he could inherit some memories, he'd pretend not to know you and stay as far away from you as possible."
He paused for a moment, then added seriously, "There are, in fact, specific cases showing that organ transplant recipients can inexplicably develop a hobby or habit of the organ donor."
"But it's a low-probability event, and there's no scientific explanation for it."
Yan Ziruo let out an "oh," then said, "Back then, Mr. Liu said your organs could save twenty-one people across the country."
"If they all inherited some of your emotions..."
She couldn't help but shiver. "Just thinking about it is terrifying. I'd suddenly have twenty-one little brothers..."
Yan Feifan scoffed. "That many little brothers for you to boss around? Such a wonderful thing would never happen."
"Let's just eat..."
After the three of them finished dinner, Tian Yu started asking Yan Feifan for help with her homework again.
She dawdled until after the 10 p.m. news on Binhai Satellite TV before finally going home.
The ten o'clock news block reported on the incident that morning: the bus passenger who went into cardiac arrest and the collective effort to save him.
After watching the two-to-three-minute news report, Yan Feifan realized that Mr. Liu's political acumen was truly impressive.
The news story focused on the joint efforts of all parties involved.
The segment featured interviews with the driver, the bus company's central dispatcher and management, a passenger representative (Yan Ziruo), the police officers who cleared the way, the traffic control dispatchers, the traffic radio host, and doctors from Ren'ai Hospital.
Even a car driver who heard the traffic radio broadcast and voluntarily made way for the bus made an appearance on the news.
So many people were shown and interviewed, yet Yan Feifan, the doctor who performed the critical resuscitation, not only didn't say a word but wasn't even shown in a full-frontal shot.
However, his figure did appear quite frequently in the report.
The real-time footage, filmed by others on their phones and edited into the news segment, mostly consisted of clips of Yan Feifan performing CPR on the patient, with the exception of one clip showing Yan Ziruo leading all the passengers in cheering the patient on.
After the news ended, Yan Ziruo consoled him, "Feifan, don't be angry or upset. I think maybe it's a good thing that they edited out your interview and the shots of your face."
"How is that a good thing?" Yan Feifan didn't quite understand.
Yan Ziruo thought for a moment and speculated, "The Affiliated Hospital sees thousands of patients every day."
"And among so many patients, you get all sorts of people."
"Some shameless people might latch onto you, crying about how poor and pitiful they are, trying to guilt-trip you. They could pester you to death."
Yan Feifan considered it. 'That actually is a possibility.'
But he still felt a bit unsettled...
Around 11 p.m., Yan Feifan had finished washing up and was propped up in bed reading a medical journal when his sister burst in.
"Feifan, quick, take a look! Did Yin Yue's husband get that legendary 'waist-coiling dragon'?"
The "waist-coiling dragon" of folklore is known by its medical name, herpes zoster, or shingles.
It's a common viral skin infection in dermatology, most prevalent around the waist, though it can infect any part of the body.
However, it is not life-threatening, even if the rash encircles the entire waist.
In fact, it is a self-limiting disease, meaning it can heal on its own.
However, it causes intense, stabbing nerve pain and can sometimes lead to other infections and postherpetic neuralgia, so timely treatment is necessary.
Statistical data shows that in the general population, about 3 to 5 out of every 1,000 people will develop shingles each year.
Out of every 10 patients annually, 2 to 3 require hospitalization.
Out of every ten million patients each year, only 1 to 5 may die.
Yan Feifan took the phone from his sister, glanced at the photo on the screen, and declared, "This isn't a 'waist-coiling dragon'."
The photo showed the chest and abdomen of a man who was reasonably well-muscled.
Starting from his chest and running down along the sternum was a series of patchy red rashes, each about 2 by 3 centimeters, extending all the way to his lower abdomen.
"Maybe it's a mutated, vertically-growing 'vertical-coiling dragon'?" Yan Ziruo guessed, trying to be clever.
Yan Feifan rolled his eyes, not wanting to humor her.
However, when he saw his sister glare at him, Yan Feifan obediently explained, "The 'waist-coiling dragon,' or shingles, usually occurs on one side of the body. It manifests as pain and clusters of blisters that follow the path of a peripheral nerve."
"It can appear on the head, face, neck, chest, abdomen, or limbs. But it doesn't cross the body's midline."
Yan Feifan gestured on his own body, saying, "This midline is an imaginary line running down from between the eyes to the navel."
"And his rash is located almost entirely on this midline."
He analyzed, "These red patches of rash have small, dense blisters arranged in a nearly vertical straight line. It doesn't look like a natural occurrence; it's more like a skin allergy caused by contact."
Yan Ziruo said, "Oh," and dialed Yin Yue's number.
The call connected quickly.
She put it on speakerphone and said, "Yuanyuan, Feifan says it's not a 'waist-coiling dragon.' It's most likely an allergic reaction from skin contact."
"Hey, what's your husband allergic to?"
Yin Yue's relieved voice came from the phone, "As long as it's not a 'waist-coiling dragon,' I'm relieved."
"As for allergies..."
"As far as I know, he's only allergic to one precious metal—gold. He never even lets me wear gold jewelry."
"I don't think he has any other allergens."
Yan Ziruo's eyes suddenly lit up. She chuckled mischievously and said, "Yuanyuan, I seem to recall there's a type of lipstick that contains gold flakes."
"These marks..."
"You didn't..."
"Your husband's... down there... couldn't also be..."
Suddenly, the call was disconnected.
Yan Ziruo looked at Yan Feifan, her eyes crinkling into slits with glee. "Feifan, looks like I guessed right!"
Yan Feifan shot back, "Sis, you're probably only half right."
"That person... might not have been Yuanyuan..."