Chapter 76 – Treatment

The group that had gone to pick persimmons soon returned, their baskets full.

At the head of the procession walked the female Daoist and the child. Each carried a palm-sized basket, only big enough for two or three persimmons. They strolled along, swaying as they walked, like they were playing a game.

Behind them, the young Daoist priest carried a heavy basket on his back but moved slowly, never overtaking the two ahead.

As the group passed along a narrow path below the spot where Cheng Ling and Yun Rui were standing, they could clearly feel the joy of a fruitful harvest radiating from those at the front.

Yun Rui recalled what the female Daoist had said earlier.

She said to Cheng Ling, “If that woman holds a high status in the temple, then her words surely carry weight. Let’s ask where the free clinic is and take a look.”

Cheng Ling didn’t want to go.

His lungs were already a mess, with the cancer cells still spreading to other parts of his body. He was now just living day by day, waiting.

To truly cure his illness would mean replacing most of his organs or cells.

Perhaps centuries from now, with medical advancements, such life-extending measures might be possible.

But now, he didn’t want to be tormented any further.

Especially not by traditional Chinese medicine, whose treatments were completely non-transparent to him.

Yun Rui squeezed his hand and gave it a shake. “Since we’re already here, let’s take a look. Just come with me, okay?”

Cheng Ling had no choice.

He could never refuse Yun Rui anything she wanted.

They asked the young Daoist priest where the clinic was and followed his directions, only to find a queue still waiting when they arrived.

Several silk banners of commendation hung in the waiting area.

In the center of the wall were a business license and a government-issued plaque recognizing the Daoist as a successor of traditional Daoist medicine.

Yun Rui said, “There are so many people. The doctor here must be quite skilled.”

But no skill in the world could cure cancer.

Cheng Ling played along for Yun Rui’s sake, but in his heart, he had no hope at all.

They waited in the room for nearly an hour before it was their turn.

The consulting Daoist was a thin, scholarly man.

On the desk was a nameplate: Daoist Wuwang.

The Daoist was writing something with his head down. When he heard them enter, he looked up briefly, then returned to his writing out of habit.

But just as his head lowered, it lifted again.

He looked at Cheng Ling twice, then even picked up a pair of glasses from the side and put them on for a better look.

The way the Daoist stared made Cheng Ling feel uneasy.

Without asking who the patient was, the Daoist spoke directly to Cheng Ling: “Sit. Let me take your pulse first.”

Cheng Ling, in accordance with his wife’s expectations, placed his hand on the pulse pillow.

Daoist Wuwang stroked his beard and felt his pulse for a long while. The longer he examined it, the deeper his brows furrowed.

He finally let go of Cheng Ling’s wrist and carefully searched for words.

“You… you’re aware of your condition, right?”

Cheng Ling pulled down his sleeve.

Calmly, he said, “Yes. I know.”

Yun Rui quickly added, “We’ve always gone to Western doctors. This is the first time we’re seeing a traditional doctor. Does his condition have a specific term in your practice?”

Wuwang shook his head. “With your pulse, you won’t last more than two months.”

The spark of hope in Yun Rui’s eyes went out.

Cheng Ling took her hand in his and smiled at her. “It’s just a reconfirmation, that’s all.”

He did think the Daoist had some real skill—able to divine life and death just through a pulse.

Just as he was thinking this, Daoist Wuwang said, “I can’t speak for traditional Chinese medicine, but Daoist medicine is slightly different.”

Cheng Ling asked, “What do you mean, Master?”

“Well, if you don’t mind, give me your birth date and time.”

Though unsure what this was about, Yun Rui wouldn’t let any chance slip by. She quickly reported Cheng Ling’s birth date and time.

Wuwang wrote it down, matched it with the heavenly stems and earthly branches, muttered under his breath, and made some calculations with his fingers.

When he finished, he asked Cheng Ling to remove his hat and show his forehead.

He studied Cheng Ling’s face closely a few times—mumbling, appearing eccentric.

At last, he concluded, “You have a compassionate heart and have done much good in your life…”

Cheng Ling almost laughed aloud.

He was a public figure. While he kept a low profile, his charitable activities had been reported. A simple online search would reveal them.

And now this Daoist was treating such well-known facts as profound revelations. Cheng Ling couldn’t help but wonder whether the next line would be that his cancer could be cured—but for a hefty price.

He glanced at Yun Rui. This silly girl, blinded by concern, was staring at the Daoist, clearly believing him.

Forget it—let her feel at ease.

He kept silent, waiting to see what would unfold.

At that moment, the Daoist lifted a strip of brocade from the desk, revealing what was beneath.

They then noticed a crystal ball about the size of a soccer ball sitting there.

To be honest, the sight of a crystal ball in a Daoist temple felt oddly out of place. It clashed with everything around it.

Yet the crystal ball was positioned carefully at the center, suggesting it was of great importance.

Cheng Ling thought, At least make the prop decent.

They hadn’t spent any money on it—the crystal ball was dull and cloudy, with visible white filaments inside.

Cheng Ling was unimpressed.

The Daoist spoke: “Place your hand on it, palm flat against the sphere.”

Cheng Ling didn’t move.

Yun Rui gave him a push. “Do it.”

With no choice, Cheng Ling obeyed.

The white crystal was cool to the touch.

He was still wondering what trick it might contain when Yun Rui suddenly gasped and pointed at the ball.

Cheng Ling looked and saw black smoke rising from within the crystal, thickening until it filled the entire sphere.

He tried to pull his hand away, but Daoist Wuwang held him in place. “Don’t move.”

From within the black fog, a streak of golden light appeared, cutting through the darkness, twisting and clashing with it.

Wherever the golden light touched, the black fog was gradually consumed. Over time, most of the darkness was eaten away, the golden light expanding until it filled the ball.

Only a few wisps of black remained.

The scene inside that crystal sphere was more realistic than any special effect Cheng Ling had ever seen.

He was amazed at the mechanism, but no matter how intricate, how could it possibly simulate that golden light devouring the darkness?

As he pondered this, Daoist Wuwang smiled. “You’ve come at the right time. Your illness—might be curable.”

Cheng Ling could feel Yun Rui’s hand on his shoulder trembling. This was the first time, in all their search for treatment, that someone had spoken with such certainty.

Daoist Wuwang stood. “Please, come with me to the inner room so we can discuss this in detail.”

What followed felt to Cheng Ling like something out of a fantasy novel.

Charity? Merit? Exchange?

Even fiction wouldn’t dare write this.

He listened closely, trying to understand what this whole setup was really about—what they stood to gain.

But the old Daoist said it was all free.

The medicine, food, lodging—everything was covered. All they had to do was serve as volunteers at the temple during the treatment period.

Was it for publicity? Were they planning to use Yun Rui and me to promote the temple?

Cheng Ling’s thoughts were in turmoil.

But Yun Rui was already tempted.

“We’ll do it. We’ll go through with the treatment.” She cut him off before he could speak, answering for both of them. “What do we need to prepare?”

“Nothing. If you agree to the treatment, the temple will take care of the ritual and the medicine.”

The Daoist left to make preparations.

Yun Rui gripped his hand, repeating over and over, “It must be the good you’ve done. The gods and buddhas were moved—that’s why we’ve been given another chance.”

Her smile was forced.

Cheng Ling knew she didn’t truly believe the Daoist’s words either.

But she wanted them to be true—needed to pretend, just for a moment, so she could hold onto hope a little longer.

He raised his hand to gently touch her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Cheng Ling smiled too. “Yes, another chance.”

Poor girl. She broke his heart, every second of every day.

With someone like her by his side, how could he ever bring himself to leave?

He pulled her into his arms and, where she couldn’t see, quietly wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes.

A little later, a young Daoist priest came to invite them to another area.

Before entering, however, Yun Rui was stopped at the door.

She looked worried, gripping his hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

Cheng Ling tried to comfort her jokingly. “What are you afraid of? This is an officially registered religious place. No one’s going to hurt me. My organs are already all rotten—no one would even want them if I tried to sell them.”

What surprised Cheng Ling when he entered was that, aside from the Daoist priest from earlier, the two female Daoist priests who had stolen the sacrificial fruits were also present.

Daoist Wuwang guided him to sit at the center of a pentagram on the floor.

Then he said, “Your accumulated merit isn’t enough to cure you in one go. So we’ll proceed in stages. After the first course of treatment, you’ll gain enough time to earn the rest of the merit you need.”

Cheng Ling’s face was expressionless, thinking to himself how convincing the act sounded.

He even felt secondhand embarrassment for the others in the room.

Didn’t any of them feel awkward saying these lines?

With the mindset of watching a performance, Cheng Ling was quite relaxed.

Just as he’d said—there was nothing left in him worth exploiting. Even if they took naked photos of him, he wouldn’t bat an eye.

And yet…

He’d guessed wrong this time.

As the lengthy ritual neared its end, he was certain he must be hallucinating.

How else could he explain seeing golden light emerging from his own body, twisting into a stream and spiraling around him?

In the Eight Trigram Mirror opposite him, Cheng Ling saw the golden light pour into his body from above.

A warm sensation flooded him, then his entire body felt light.

In that instant, all his suffering vanished.

The feeling was exquisite—not fleeting, but sustained.

Cheng Ling began to suspect they had added some kind of analgesic or hallucinogen into the incense—some kind of narcotic.

Maybe this was the temple’s hidden scheme: to sell drugs?

If this was the heart of the scam, Cheng Ling had to admit—they’d succeeded.

He didn’t know how long the effects would last.

If possible, he wished he could spend the rest of his remaining time feeling just like this.

Daoist Wuwang smiled. “Judging by your expression, it feels okay? But you’re not fully cured yet. I’ve already arranged for your accommodations.”

He didn’t mention the incense at all?

Cheng Ling got up and sincerely thanked him, then asked, “This incense…”

Daoist Wuwang blinked, then suddenly understood. “Oh! You liked that? It’s made here at the temple. I’ll have someone send two boxes to your room. But that’s not free—it’s 49 per box. You can just scan the code to pay.”

Cheng Ling frowned.

Forty-nine thousand? That was unexpectedly expensive.

That amount of money could buy several truckloads of school supplies and milk for children in the mountains.

He couldn’t bear to spend it.

Clenching his fists, he forced a smile. “A bit pricey—let’s pass.”

As soon as he said it, he noticed the others in the room were all looking at him like he was some kind of oddity.

Daoist Wuwang was momentarily stunned, then said, “No problem.”

Cheng Ling let out a breath—thankfully, they hadn’t forced the sale.

Facing Yun Rui’s anxious gaze, Cheng Ling didn’t say much—just that he felt a lot better.

The two of them went to rest in the monk’s quarters prepared for them.

Yun Rui stared at him for a while, then said, “It’s true. You look a lot better.”

Cheng Ling didn’t talk much. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

He quietly waited for the effects to wear off, for the pain to return.

But it didn’t.

Surprisingly, that night he slept soundly—for the first time in a long while.

He even slept through lunch.

It was something that hadn’t happened once since he fell ill.

Yun Rui was overjoyed. “Looks like that Daoist really does have something. Let’s stay here a little longer. I’ll go find out what that volunteer work is all about.”

She circled around him as she spoke. “You don’t know how peacefully you slept. I thought a few times you’d just… never wake up. But I didn’t have the heart to rouse you, so I just kept watch. Honey, maybe it’s just psychological, but I really feel like you’re even better today than you were yesterday afternoon.”

Cheng Ling stayed silent.

He was thinking—what kind of painkiller could work for nearly twenty hours straight just through breathing, and still not wear off?

“We’re going to the hospital,” Cheng Ling decided. He had to get a clear answer.

Yun Rui said, “Is that really necessary? It’s just one night. That won’t change much.”

Cheng Ling knew she was afraid he’d be disappointed.

But he didn’t want to live in confusion.

He was all too familiar with hospital procedures. With help from some connections, he got his scans that same afternoon.

The doctor reviewing them tried to get Cheng Ling to leave the room, wanting to speak to Yun Rui alone.

Cheng Ling said bluntly, “I know I’m not in good shape, doctor. Please—just tell me the truth.”

The doctor sighed, but his tone remained even. “Your lungs… it’s mid-stage now.”

Everything else the doctor said went unheard.

Cheng Ling’s mind was stuck on those two syllables: mid-stage… mid-stage… mid-stage…

How could it be mid-stage?

His condition had already deteriorated to terminal.

Before returning to Shanyu, the doctors in the capital had told him his lungs were gone—he should do whatever he still wished to do while he could.

Yun Rui was even more agitated than he was. “Did you make a mistake? You said mid-stage? But before—”

She started digging through her phone, trying to find earlier scans to show the doctor.

Cheng Ling grabbed her hand, stopping her rambling.

“Thank you, doctor.”

The doctor said, “Let’s not get too excited. Let’s handle the admission paperwork—”

“No need,” Cheng Ling said. “We’ve already checked into another place.”

As he spoke, Cheng Ling couldn’t help but laugh.

A hearty, relieved laugh that swept away all the gloom.

The doctor: “……”

Cheng Ling didn’t care. He took the scans back and held his wife’s hand—she seemed dazed, as if sleepwalking.

He said, “We’re going back to Baiyun Temple.”