Chapter 106: We Are Not Entirely Certain
A traffic accident in the middle of the night plunged the hospital into chaos. Everywhere she looked, there were blood-soaked casualties and wailing families, amplifying the terror tenfold. Xiaoxiao hardly dared to look straight at any of it; Lin Shuo half-supported, half-dragged her as they hurried past.
Her father still lay in the intensive care unit, his vital signs growing faint. Through the glass, Xiaoxiao's tears streamed down without stopping. She was terrified beyond words.
"Your father's heart stopped just now. We performed simple resuscitation, but it wasn't very effective." Doctors face scenes like this every day and had clearly grown accustomed to the full spectrum of family reactions, so he remained exceptionally composed.
"Can you operate?" Lin Shuo was far stronger than Xiaoxiao, and his steadiness gave her strength in turn.
"We're already preparing. As soon as a family member signs the consent form, we can begin."
Xiaoxiao clung to the doctor's arm like a drowning person grasping at a lifeline, sobbing and begging him to save her father. Lin Shuo, by contrast, grew wary: "How great is the risk?" He was inexplicably afraid that Xiaoxiao's father might not survive the surgery—after all, no operation comes with a one-hundred-percent guarantee.
"The patient has been unconscious for so long that his organ functions have begun to deteriorate. We aren't entirely confident either," the doctor said truthfully. Xiaoxiao fixed her gaze on her father in the bed, afraid he'd vanish if she so much as blinked. The doctor offered his suggestion: "But it's still better than doing nothing. Of course, we'll respect the family's wishes." The implication was clear: when you've got nothing to lose, you try anything—and even if it fails, things can't get much worse.
Xiaoxiao wiped away her tears and spoke solemnly to the doctor: "Alright, I'll sign. Please, I'm begging you." She had no time left; she had to gamble on this. If her father were conscious right now, he'd encourage her to do the same—because he always said, "Do nothing, make no mistakes—but you also lose every chance that might have been right."
The doctor explained the possible risks of the operation and told her to prepare herself mentally. She gripped the pen and calmly signed her name, the strokes pressing deep into the paper—as if she were a child again, her father's hand guiding hers as he taught her to write her own name.
The surgery began. She sat on the bench, woodenly gnawing at her fingernails, while outside the window the night slowly dissolved. Many families of the accident victims had only just arrived from out of town—but it was already too late. They lifted the white sheets covering faces and heads, weeping until they collapsed. She felt cold, curling inward, trembling.
This night carried too much parting, too much death.
"Don't be afraid. I'm still here." He held her tightly, burying her head against his chest. She breathed in great gulps of that hospital air thick with formaldehyde, the stench choking her, making her retch and gag up a few tears.
When the first critical condition notice arrived, if Lin Shuo hadn't been by her side, she would have collapsed onto the floor right then. Doctors kept coming and going, and she couldn't tell whether this was the final outcome—her heart could bear no more.
She didn't dare tell her mother what was happening. But her mother seemed to have some kind of psychic connection; the phone call came quickly. Her mother said her heart felt restless and she'd woken in the middle of the night, asking how Dad was doing. Xiaoxiao held back the flood of tears and said everything was fine. Her mother heard the congestion in her voice; Xiaoxiao made up an excuse about a cold. She didn't breathe a single word until the call ended.
Lin Shuo watched, unable to bear it: "Why not let your aunt come see him? What if—"
"No!" She cut him off with finality. "Dad wouldn't abandon us." But four years ago, her father had indeed collapsed—a towering mountain crumbling before her very eyes.