Chapter 6: Acquiring the Treasure

In the morning, the doctors in white coats came to make their rounds. When they discovered the two of us sleeping together, the lead doctor stepped forward to stop it and even said things that shouldn’t have been said: “If this continues, we’ll have to move you to another ward!”

Upon hearing this, Molly looked crestfallen and her face turned sour. She slunk back to her bed and sat on the edge, sulking. The lead doctor grunted and then went over to bed number twenty-one, followed by the other doctors who had come in with him.

I shifted my gaze to his back. As soon as the lead doctor approached, he loudly barked, “Only patients are allowed to sleep on the beds. You cannot sleep on top of them. This ward is under our management, so please cooperate, alright?”

The patient grumbled but said nothing. The woman who was looking after him, however, took offense and scowled, “If we can’t sleep on the bed, where else do you expect us to sleep? People aren’t machines; who can stay up all night?”

Another female doctor tried to assert herself in front of the lead doctor, seizing the opportunity to show off. She approached and attempted to persuade them: “Who hasn’t stayed up all night? Only seriously ill patients can have someone stay with them; there are rules for everyone else…”

The guardian woman suddenly stood up with a snap, shamelessly roaring, “I’m going to sleep on the bed, what are you going to do about it? It’s not like I haven’t paid for the bed fee. If I don’t watch over him, who will?”

The lead doctor softened his tone and said, “The hospital serves the patients. We share the same goal — to get you better. Let’s not quarrel, alright? We still have work to do!”

The patients in the ward who were able sat up on their beds; those who could walk gathered closely around. The doorway was crowded with many unfamiliar faces, some bold enough to enter. After much bickering, they finally grumbled away.

People near bed twenty-one began to murmur. Some said, “The most annoying one is that lead doctor. He’s so anxious to prove he’s in charge, always making things difficult for patients!”

A man made exaggerated hand gestures, putting on airs and always trying to show off in front of others. He spoke harshly, “Lead doctor? I heard he’s the director and thinks very highly of himself. What’s so great about him? Not a single patient under his care. I wonder how long the hospital can last.”

Then the murmurs grew louder, one after another, some related, some not, all going on at length.

An elderly man entered from outside, about eighty years old, with dyed black hair and a face full of wrinkles. He wore a blue suit and black leather shoes. The mismatched outfit somehow gave a decent impression.

Following my gaze, he went to bed number twenty, smiling as he said, “Sorry I’m late! How are you?”

“What do you care? They just left me here in the hospital. What if something happens?” Molly cooed in a spoiled tone as soon as she saw him.

“Didn’t I come to get you? Those troublemakers were arrested with just one phone call from me. Why bother arguing with them?”

The eighty-year-old, eager to show off just like a young man, seemed to boast about his power.

“No care, no care! You came to see me but didn’t bring anything. I’m hungry—I didn’t eat all night. Do you want me to starve?” Molly flopped on the bed, tossing and turning, humming continuously.

The old man sat on the edge of bed twenty, took a bank card from a small black bag, and placed it in her hand, coaxing her like a child, “Here, is this enough?”

Molly stared at the card, her eyes brighter than the sun. She stopped rolling around and, unsure how much was on it, whispered, “How much did you put in?”

The old man wasn’t deaf; his hearing was as sharp as a young man’s. He signaled with one finger.

Molly was confused. Was it ten thousand? The old man shook his head. She guessed again, a hundred thousand? Still no.

I frowned too, wondering how much money was on that card.

Molly, afraid I might overhear, whispered guesses into his ear, question and answer, until she finally exploded, loudly grumbling, “Only this much?” Then she threw the bank card harshly out the ward door.

The card, specially made, hit the doorframe, bounced off the ground, hopping and skipping before finally coming to a stop.

The old man bent down easily, picked it up, and said, “If you don’t want it, fine. There’s nothing on it. You threw the card. There won’t be any more money added.”

This remark hit Molly hard; she stomped her feet loudly, bounced over, snatched the card back, shaking her body and humming, “I don’t care, I’ll put more money in later. Otherwise, this isn’t over between us!”

The old man pulled her hand gently and whispered, “Alright, we’ll do as you say. Isn’t that enough?”

In front of everyone, Molly linked her arm with his and left the ward.

This small scene captivated not only my attention but also that of the other patients. Everyone wanted to know: who was this eighty-year-old man to Molly? How much money was on the card? What was their relationship?

After they left, no one tidied the beds or cleaned up the mess. A nurse came in and took away the blankets and sheets. Then a man in a light blue gown entered and packed Molly’s belongings into a plastic bag.

I watched him leave, already knowing Molly wouldn’t return, but unsure whether she was being transferred or discharged.

The strongest impressions she left in my mind were the bank card in her hand and the feeling of her slipping into my bed late at night.

No matter what, I felt a bit lost. A newly made friend just left without saying goodbye. I glanced at my phone beside the pillow and saved Molly’s number into my contacts.

Just then, the young boy’s parents arrived. As soon as they entered, the lady’s voice rang out, “Mom, I bought you breakfast. Eat it while it’s hot!”

What annoyed me most was hearing a “mom” from both sides. I have a mother, but she’s not that woman—at least thirty years older than her. Hearing that over and over was unbearable, as if she had never been a mother before.

I didn’t want to look at him; I fiddled with my phone instead.

The lady placed the breakfast on the white bedside table and fixed her eyes on me, saying, “Don’t play around. Hurry up and eat. We’re getting discharged soon. Jin Guang is handling the paperwork; we’re just waiting for the test results.”

There was nothing wrong with that. Though I was reluctant to respond, I couldn’t hold a grudge against breakfast. I glanced at the plastic bag on the bedside table and took out fried rice. I was thoroughly annoyed. Narrowing my eyes, I grumbled, “Fried rice again? Can’t they get me something else? It’s so dry. Why not buy me some rice noodles?”

“Be grateful they even bought it. What’s all the fuss? Don’t want it? Go buy your own,” the young boy’s father snapped, his face darkening.

The lady pushed him aside and said, “Honey, watch your words. If she doesn’t want to eat now, just leave it. She’ll eat when she’s hungry.”

I wanted to curse him. How can someone be a father and use parental authority to bully a child? I wouldn’t stand for it.

The young boy’s father’s face turned bright red, and he couldn’t even blow off steam. Feeling miserable, he gritted his teeth and moved aside.

The lady came over to soothe me, hoping for understanding. “Your dad has that temper. You know it well. He might curse a bit, but it’ll pass soon. Don’t be mad. Eat quickly! Here’s some mineral water.”

I still didn’t want to look. I blamed the lady for always wanting to be the mother, even though she was younger than me. Since it had come to this, I picked up the disposable bowl and used chopsticks to shovel a bite in. It tasted surprisingly good, though I refused to admit it.

This gesture saved the lady some embarrassment, and even the young boy’s father calmed down.

A female doctor in a white coat appeared at the door, calling out, “Bed nineteen, go get the test results!”

The young boy’s father left in a sour mood. Taking advantage of his absence, the lady spoke, “Actually, your father has been thinking about you. He reminded me to buy breakfast. He also wants to buy you clothes and pants. The schoolbag is ready. You’ll see it once we get home!”

I listened while eating, sensing the lady wanted me to understand her, but she wasn’t my mother. It was irritating to be forced into this connection.

She noticed the problem and gently patted my shoulder, saying, “You’ll know right away if she’s your real mother.”

Though I wasn’t very hungry, the egg fried rice, with a piece of braised tofu inside, tasted excellent. After finishing, I tossed the disposable bowl and chopsticks into the trash bin beside the bed.

The young boy’s father came back, angrily threw down the test results, and spat out a harsh remark: “See for yourself. Not my child! Ridiculous to even think she is! No wonder her hair and eyes are different from mine! Whose child is she then?”

The lady looked stunned, taking a long time to recover. She looked over the test results—they only showed the blood type. Why would the man say such things? It must be…

“What did the doctor tell you?” The lady knew but didn’t want to say it aloud. The consequences were obvious to everyone.

The young boy’s father didn’t want to answer in front of so many people and turned away, mumbling.

The lady was impatient. Such a big matter couldn’t wait until they got home. She hurried out with the test results.

Curious but confused, I wanted to understand the situation better. I flipped back my white blanket, preparing to put on my shoes, when a few green beads rolled on the bed.

My eyes lit up. I picked one up for a closer look—it was polished smooth, shining with a cold emerald glow, translucent and exquisitely beautiful. What was this? I’d never seen anything like it before. How long had it been on the sheets? How had I missed it?

I pulled back the covers completely. There were several more beads on the bed. I gathered them all, holding a small handful. There was also a broken thread, obviously for stringing beads. Each bead had a small hole. I turned them over in my hands, unable to put them down.

The young boy’s father watched on the side, utterly uninterested, annoyed. He tugged at the lady’s face and shouted, “Are we leaving or not? If not, I’m going!”

I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the green beads. I didn’t count how many there were; after searching the entire bed, I was sure there were no more. Then I put on my shoes and walked out.

The young boy’s father followed closely behind, wanting to ask the lady about the situation.

However, the queue for tests was incredibly long. She waved her hand and said, “No time for consultations here. Go to the information desk on the tenth floor. Someone there will explain everything.”