Chapter 83: Clear Distinctions Between Gratitude and Grievance

Lu Feng let go of Xia Yubing and glanced at the shattered medicine jar on the floor, the thick scent of herbal medicine filling the room. He hesitated, considering whether to ask about the little boy with cataracts. Even a criminal has the right to medical treatment, and this was a child. Lu Feng rubbed his forehead, weighed his options, and pointed toward the innermost room, his voice tinged with anger as he asked, “Why won’t that child have surgery? Cataracts aren’t some difficult or serious illness. Delaying it until now is harming him! Even if he undergoes surgery later, his vision will be compromised!”

With modern medicine, cataracts are hardly considered a major illness. Cataracts occur when the proteins in the lens of the eye deteriorate and become cloudy, affecting vision—much like egg whites, which are transparent when raw but turn opaque white when cooked. Surgery is simple: using ultrasonic emulsification to shatter the cloudy lens, extract it, and replace it with an artificial one. It’s a minor procedure, doesn’t require hospitalization, and the patient can go home the same day. After surgery, vision can recover to eighty percent, sometimes even higher.

However, congenital cataracts are somewhat special. This type is best treated surgically before the child turns one; otherwise, permanent vision loss will result.

Xia Yubing was startled by Lu Feng’s question. She hadn’t expected someone who’d just fought her to the death to care about her brother’s condition. The question plunged her into a guilty reverie...

When she was twelve, still in middle school, her mother became pregnant with a younger brother and was fired from the factory because of it. The family’s income was instantly halved, and her parents’ arguments grew ever more frequent. Later, her brother was born, and her father, assaulted by gangsters, had his leg broken and lost his job, which led to her parents smashing things and screaming at each other as if the world were ending.

Her mother blamed her father for his incompetence and for mixing with gangsters only to end up crippled and unable to earn a penny. Her father shouted that the house was his and threatened to throw her mother out. The chaos spilled from their bedroom into the living room, pots and pans shattering everywhere.

She remembered that nothing in the house was whole; even the stainless steel bowls they ate with were dented and misshapen. While her parents fought and destroyed everything, her infant brother cried in his stroller, ignored no matter how loud his cries became.

From a certain day on, whenever her parents argued, Xia Yubing would quietly wheel her brother out to the old man next door for some peace. Looking at her brother, she saw her own childhood reflected—growing up in endless parental conflict, though perhaps he was even more unfortunate. At least, before her father was crippled, he had loved her deeply.

Because her parents paid no attention and she herself was still in middle school, ignorant of medical matters, she never realized her brother had a problem with his eyes. Thus, the optimal treatment window was missed.

...

“The doctor said he has nystagmus and can’t have surgery. Even if he did, it’s unlikely his vision would recover,” Xia Yubing replied through clenched teeth.

Lu Feng nodded and asked, “Do you want him treated?”

“What?” Xia Yubing asked blankly.

“I’m asking if you want your brother’s eyes treated,” Lu Feng repeated.

Xia Yubing had visited several major hospitals, all of which said the case was hopeless. She doubted Lu Feng could cure it and asked, “You can treat it?”

“Not until I’ve checked his pulse—I can’t say for sure, even if I’m quite confident,” Lu Feng answered. After a pause, he continued, “But even if the cataract is removed successfully, restoring vision will require lengthy visual training.”

“Are you certain you can cure my brother’s eyes? He has congenital cataracts. The doctors say the delay has caused permanent vision loss, and even surgery won’t help much. He also has nystagmus,” Xia Yubing was still unconvinced.

She had dropped out of school in middle school and knew nothing about medical matters. Whatever the doctors said, she simply believed.

“I told you, removing the cataract is easy. The hard part is restoring vision,” Lu Feng replied.

“But... why would you help me?” Xia Yubing remained anxious, unsure how to respond to someone she had tried to kill, now offering help for her brother’s illness.

“I can’t stand patients who avoid seeking treatment. Or perhaps, I’m itching to try my skills—do you understand?” Lu Feng replied.

“But I... I attacked you...”

Lu Feng felt awkward as well; moments ago they’d been locked in mortal combat, and now they were discussing healing. He was someone who distinguished between personal grudges and matters of principle. He explained, “You are you, and your brother is your brother. Our issues aren’t resolved, but your brother, in my eyes, is simply a patient—a child on the verge of lifelong blindness. Of course, if you don’t want him treated, I can’t force you.”

Xia Yubing lowered her head in contemplation, then asked, “Can you tell me how you’d treat him? I find it hard to imagine traditional medicine offering any solution for cataracts beyond herbal remedies.”

“Have you heard of the Golden Needle Barrier Removal Technique?” Lu Feng countered.

Xia Yubing shook her head, indicating she hadn’t.

...

“Let me put it this way. The Golden Needle Barrier Removal Technique was recorded over a thousand years ago. The Tang dynasty poet Bai Juyi suffered from this disease in old age and wrote a poem about it: ‘Dragon tree spread across the table, Decision-making pill stored in an empty box. Remedies in the world are useless; how can I try the golden needle to scrape it clean?’ In this poem, Bai Juyi said that if the Decision-making pill didn’t cure his eye disease, he would try the Golden Needle Barrier Removal Technique,” Lu Feng explained.

Although Xia Yubing wasn’t well-read, Bai Juyi was a famous poet she certainly knew. Hearing this, she began to trust Lu Feng and felt hope for her brother’s recovery.

“If the Tang dynasty seems too distant, there are modern cases of the Golden Needle Barrier Removal Technique curing illness. Our nation’s first chairman had this eye disease, and it was Tang Youzhi who cured him using this very technique,” Lu Feng added.

“Can it be treated now?” Xia Yubing pressed.

“We’d have to go to Yun’an. Without a proper medical environment, infection could become an issue,” Lu Feng shook his head.

Xia Yubing was reluctant to expose her identity—after all, she lived by killing. But if it meant curing her brother, she was willing to take the risk.

...

Just as they were discussing treatment methods, the sound of a key turning came from the door’s lock.

Lu Feng frowned and stared at Xia Yubing, asking, “Who’s coming?”

Xia Yubing’s expression flickered, and she didn’t answer immediately.

Lu Feng stood up, pulled a dagger from the wall, and pressed himself against the corner, staying out of sight from the doorway.

Xia Yubing dragged a blanket over her shoulders and watched the entrance.

A shadow appeared in the hallway, casting into the living room. Lu Feng, hidden behind the wall, could already see the outline—a tall man.

“Little Bug, what happened? I received your distress signal and came right away.” A hoarse voice echoed from the hallway.

The man didn’t rush into the living room, but from his position he could see Xia Yubing sitting on the sofa.