Chapter 658: Chapter 225: Goodbye
The night deepened, and the winter in Su Nan was cold.
Unlike the north, the cold in the south carried a dampness, like tiny needles piercing through the marrow, the chill probing straight for the heart.
The people in the Plague Hospital always huddled in their damp bedding, sleeping on the cold earth, numbly listening to the wind outside the door, night after night, waiting for the next day to pass, many never to wake again.
Soon, the execution grounds would be lit with grey smoke.
A pall of death hung over this place, destined to be shrouded by death, unworthy of further thought.
But today was different.
All the bedding had been changed, and the ground mats had been replaced with wooden beds. Though narrow and crammed together, it was much better than the damp ground.
In the corners of the walls burned out Atractylodes Macrocephala, and the bitter scent of medicine gradually wafted in. Occasionally medical officers in grey-green cotton robes moved about the Plague Hospital, their busyness providing a sense of reassurance.
"Hope" is a strange thing; it seems like a life-saving elixir, even if nothing is done, and tonight the moans in the Plague Hospital had already lessened.
The wind outside was gentle, and the medical officers had all rested. On the narrow wooden bed, a person slowly sat up.
The little girl first lifted the bedding from her body, leaned over to check on her father sleeping next to her, saw that he had not woken up, and tiptoed down from the bed to the clay statue of the deity in the temple.
The offering table was bare, the clay statue of the deity silently overlooking all beings. Even at the most crowded of times in the Plague Hospital, this deity was not dismantled.
No one laid a hand on it, nor did the County Office speak out.
For those in desperate straits, the deities are the only life-saving straw.
Only to pray.
Every person who just entered the Plague Hospital would kneel on the mat and pray, as if this would bring them a bit more peace. But as more and more bodies were carried out, fewer and fewer people prayed to the deities.
Cuicui knelt on the broken mat and looked up devoutly at the silent clay statue above her.
"Immortal, please bless Cuicui and Dad to survive."
She silently chanted this in her heart.
Cuicui was seven years old this year.
Her mother and father were slaves in a wealthy family; she was the young master’s playmate, and the three of them had a relatively smooth life.
When the epidemic arrived, everyone was at a loss.
Cuicui also fell ill.
The rich merchant threw her out of the house, out of consideration for past affection, told her parents to take Cuicui to the Plague Hospital, while they could still remain in the mansion.
Cuicui’s mother absolutely refused.
To send her to the Plague Hospital was to await death, and Cuicui was so young, she needed care.
Her parents left the wealthy household with Cuicui, to care for her alone, but the plague was fierce. No matter how careful they were, being in contact day after day, they also fell ill.
Latter on, they couldn’t get medicine, and many in Su Nan died. Her mother died of the illness, and Cuicui and her father returned to the Plague Hospital.
Her father always said, "Cuicui, don’t be afraid, Dad is with you."
But every morning when she woke up, she could see the people beside her, who were all right the day before, wrapped in a mat and dragged away, never to return, and she grew more and more panicked.
She didn’t want to die, nor did she want her dad to die.
"Bodhisattva," she prayed silently in her heart, bowing deeply again and again in the lamplight, "please save us."
"Please save us."
The night was silent, and the moans in the Plague Hospital had also stopped at some unknown time. The north wind howled, slapping the temple doors, causing the lights inside the temple to flicker and nearly go out.
A pair of shoes stopped in front of her.
Cuicui’s body stiffened.
Those were cotton shoes, covered in mud. Looking up, there were faint bloodstains and stains from medicinal herbs on the hem of a grey-green skirt. Cuicui looked up and saw under the candlelight a woman with delicate brows and eyes, her pair of pitch-black eyes quietly staring at her.
Cuicui shrank back slightly, stammering as she spoke.
"...Doctor Lu."
She was a medical officer from the Hanlin Medical Institute.
Cuicui remembered this female medical officer.
Among the medical officers who came from Shengjing, there were only three young ones, her father’s age and younger.
The female medical officer named Lin was cheerful and loved to laugh, greatly adored by the patients, but this medical officer named Lu was distant and taciturn, and Cuicui was somewhat afraid of her.
"What are you doing?" Lu Tong asked.
"I am, I am praying for the gods to bless us."
The female medical officer looked at her without speaking.
Feeling unjustifiably guilty, Cuicui was kneeling in front of a healer yet praying to deities, perhaps offending her. Lifting her gaze to sneak a peek at Lu Tong, she saw that the other woman didn’t seem angry.
Emboldened, she asked, "Medical Officer, will the gods come to save us?"
"No," was the calm and unemotional response from Lu Tong, extinguishing all of Cuicui’s hopes in an instant, bringing tears to her eyes.
"Then will we die?"
The female medical officer looked at her, "No."
Cuicui was taken aback.
"The gods won’t save you, but I will save you, all the medical officers will save you." The voice of the female medical officer remained flat, yet that calm somehow brought a little comfort.