The doctor patted the old man's shoulder and said, "Sir, you owe more than sixty thousand yuan. Even if we reduce it, you still need to pay fifty thousand. Our department doesn't have the authority to waive it entirely. I've already mentioned this to the leadership, and they said you can write an IOU and pay it back slowly when you have the money. There’s nothing else we can do. If you can't afford the life-saving equipment for him, you’ll have to take him home yourself. His condition isn't something that a little money can fix. Taking him home for a day is just delaying the inevitable." <br><br>I saw the doctor’s weariness and numbness when facing life and death. I said to the doctor, "Doctor, I’m here to collect the Proof of Death for Bed 9." <br><br>He opened a receipt book similar to an invoice holder, filled out the basic information, stamped it with the hospital’s special seal, and tore off two copies for me. He said, "One copy goes to the funeral home; the other copy is for the household registration officer to cancel the household registration. You can get the medical records copied two days later at the medical record room. The medical fees are settled until yesterday; today’s fees haven’t been calculated yet. Come back in a couple of days to settle the account and get your deposit refunded." <br><br>I glanced at the old man crying nearby and asked the doctor, "Doctor, how much deposit is roughly left for Bed 9?" <br><br>The doctor replied, "Take a look at yesterday’s bill. It’s calculated up to yesterday. You can figure it out yourself." <br><br>I estimated it. After topping up the deposit once, about 120,000 yuan should be left. I said to the doctor, "Doctor, I calculated it, about 120,000 is left. Please transfer all of it to this old man’s son for his treatment." <br><br>The old man abruptly stood up, stammering, "You, you said, you said what?" <br><br>I looked at the old man and said, "Sir, my sister has passed away. I am transferring all the leftover medical fees to your son. This money can’t save Xiahe, but I hope it can save your son." <br><br>The old man suddenly knelt in front of me, repetitively saying, "A good person, a good person, you’ll be blessed! A great benefactor, what’s your last name? … Our House of Yin will remember your kindness!" <br><br>The House of Yin? A blind man surnamed Yin. My heart skipped a beat. I dared not think about that person who once told me years ago, "Meant to Meet, Bound by Fate…" <br><br>I helped the old man up and said, "Sir, no need to thank me. Please take care of yourself. I can only do so much. Perhaps it’s destined for us to meet again." <br><br>The old man looked at me blankly, seemingly lost in thought. <br><br>The doctor stood up, patted me on the shoulder, and sighed, "A kind-hearted person, but how can one help everyone? Alas." <br><br>The doorbell rang. <br><br>A nurse went to the small window to check and quickly opened the door. A young man holding a cake box walked in. <br><br>He said, "This is addressed to Mr. Luo, the Manager. Who is Mr. Luo?" <br><br>The nurse eagerly accepted it and said, "I’ll sign for Mr. Luo. Thank you!" <br><br>The bald male doctor looked up, his face lighting up as if he had suddenly returned to earthly joys. He said to the nurse, "Who ordered this? Why is the cake delivered to the department on my birthday?" <br><br>The nurse replied, "We all ordered it for you. We’ll celebrate together after your shift!" <br><br>The bald doctor coughed and said, "You playful young girls, really mischievous." <br><br>This space, less than five square meters, felt like the most dramatic place I had ever seen. There was me, holding a Proof of Death; the weeping old man unable to afford treatment; the patient unexpectedly receiving financial aid; the doctor with a birthday surprise; the playful nurses; the condemned; and perhaps someone now transferred to a general ward, surviving calamity. If all of this turned into music, the background melody beneath the main theme would have to be extraordinarily subtle to convey such complex emotions. <br><br>I recalled what a blind person said to me years ago: "Everything will be forsaken. Abandoning now might be wise." Yes, Xiahe, you abandoned life at this moment. Perhaps it was preordained, not something to stubbornly hold on to. <br><br>I completed the transfer procedures, bid farewell to the endlessly thankful old man, obtained the proof, and returned to Xiahe's side. I struggled to lift her, placing her on the simple stretcher bed prepared by the nurse. Pushing the stretcher, I walked to an elevator designated for the deceased. I pressed the button for floor -1. As the elevator doors slowly closed, I patted Xiahe, curled up in my trench coat, and said, "Xiahe, we’re going home." <br><br>I reached the underground parking lot and opened the trunk of the car. Thankfully, there was still this Mercedes-Benz G500 SUV. The car had a Shenzhen license plate, and in this city, transferring, mortgaging, or selling out-of-town cars was very difficult. Yes, this was the only thing I had left. The trunk space was big enough. I folded down all the rear seats and used The Yellow Bag given by the hospital to cover Xiahe’s entire body. With great effort, I placed her inside. Turning, lifting, pushing—every motion made me feel the icy coldness through my blue trench coat, piercing into my bones. <br><br>Finally, I managed to get her into the bag, trying to secure it properly in the backseat. Lifting the bag to move it into the car, my hands faltered, and the bag fell to the ground with a thud. Staring at The Yellow Bag, my stomach churned uncontrollably. Trembling, I held onto the car door and vomited endlessly. Slowly sliding to the ground, I hugged my head and sobbed. <br><br>Who can help me? <br><br>After vomiting and crying, the pitch-black garage echoed with the occasional honk from passing cars, indifferent to my plight. <br><br>I struggled to stand, lifting Xiahe's upper body into the backseat, then using all my strength to drag her lower body into the trunk. She lay there, tilted, like cargo in my car. Exhausted, I closed the trunk, leaned against the car, and breathed heavily. <br><br>Xiahe, what should I do? You’ve left me too. Speak to me! Why did you leave me like this? Weren’t we Inseparable as Scale and Weight? I shouted loudly in this godforsaken parking lot. <br><br>Suddenly, the headlights of a car parked diagonally behind me flashed once, twice, three times. Blinded, I shielded my eyes and looked at the car. It was unoccupied. <br><br>I shouted, "Who?" <br><br>The headlights flashed again, once, twice, three times. <br><br>I slowly approached the car. It was a van, a Changan van, with the license plate Sichuan Plate V66228. Empty. <br><br>Who was it? Debt collectors? Loan sharks? <br><br>Sichuan Plate? From where? <br><br>An overwhelming fear seized me. I rushed into my car, started the engine, locked the doors, and said, "Xiahe, we need to leave quickly. We’ll figure it out later.")
