Chapter 17 - Douluo

(Some chapters in the middle were too slow-paced and have been edited out, but don’t affect the reading experience.)

It was dusk again, and the school bell echoed across the campus,

Han Letian, who had been on sick leave for several days, returned to school today, yawned, and sprawled listlessly on his desk with a long sigh.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Li Cheng stretched lazily, stood up, and started packing his backpack.

“So sleepy.”

With his head buried in his arms, Han Letian replied in a muffled voice, “The fever reducer from Gen-Sys Biotechnology Company does work, but its side effect is that it makes one feel really drowsy.”

Gen-Sys Biotechnology Company, established four years ago through joint investment by more than a dozen multinational pharmaceutical corporations (Pfizer, Novartis, Roche, Johnson & Johnson, etc.), encompasses various fields including pharmaceuticals, medical devices, diagnostic products, agriculture, forestry, and genetically modified food, and is the most technologically advanced medical company in the world.

People often compare it to the umbrella company from “Biochemical Crisis.”

Of course, Gen-Sys is much stronger than the umbrella company.

The latter went bankrupt due to sanctions imposed by the United States, while the former has long become a global monopoly, entrenched in every corner of the American elite, with connections across both the Democratic and Republican parties.

“Is that your excuse for sleeping during math class?”

Mu Yulu, sitting in front of Li Cheng, having heard their conversation, teased while packing her bag, “I could hear your snoring all the way over here.

Don’t tell me you stayed up reading novels or comics again last night?”

“Cough, you caught me.”

Han Letian didn’t pretend anymore, “Being bored at home, I just re-read some old novels.

And you know what, the classics are truly classic.

It’s a pity though that flowers may bloom again but people will never be young again.

Different stages of life and personal circumstances create different states of mind.

Once you’re past that state of mind, you can never recreate the same work.

Just like Gangnam, once successful, can no longer write the youthful vigor of ‘Dragon Clan’;

Dream Machine, obsessed with martial arts, can no longer produce the angry spirit of ‘Charming Body’;

Tang Jia San…

Wait, he actually can!”

Han Letian suddenly got excited, slapped his palm, and listed from “Douluo Continent,” to “Douluo Continent II Supreme Tang Sect,” “Douluo Continent III Dragon King Legend,” “Douluo Continent IV Ultimate Douluo,” “Douluo Continent V Rebirth Tang San,” as well as “Douluo Continent Side Story: Divine World Legend,” “Douluo Continent Side Story: Tang Sect Heroes,” “Douluo Continent Side Story: Douluo World”…

“…With such encyclopedic knowledge of so many works, aren’t you really a true fan in disguise?”

Mu Yulu, who had heard enough of “Douluo,” rubbed her temples with a headache and couldn’t help but retort.

“Hahaha, how could that be, I’m not interested in gaspeoples.”

Han Letian waved his hand dismissively and also started packing his bag.

As the three left the classroom, they ruffled the hair of Yang Ling, their class teacher’s daughter, who was sitting at the protector’s seat on the right side of the platform, and said goodbye.

Yang Ling just started primary school this year, and looking like a delicate doll, she was exceptionally cute.

When she was in a good mood, she would politely say goodbye to her older ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’; when she wasn’t, she would puff up like a little kitten, refusing to let others touch her head.

“Goodbye Han Brother, Li Brother, Mu Sister.”

Well, it seemed that her mood was good today.

The trio walked out of the school together.

Han Letian’s mother was waiting outside in an Audi, ready to pick him up and take him home.

As Han Letian got into the car, he casually asked, “Where’s Dad?”

“Your dad went fishing in the afternoon and hasn’t come back yet.”

Han Letian’s mother, who looked young and trendy, replied with a rather annoyed tone, “He promised to take me to the movies today; he better make it back in time.”

Han Letian responded speechlessly, “Mom, I’ve just recovered from sickness, and you two would go to the movies without me?”

Han’s mother casually answered, “Aren’t you fine as soon as your fever went down?

Ah, you weren’t so delicate when you were little; no matter what ached, a little cough syrup and you could sleep like a log.”

“…Was that sleeping soundly or just being knocked out?

I’m starting to doubt whether I am your biological child.”

Han Letian wiped the nonexistent cold sweat from his forehead.

Some cough medicines contain sedatives and tranquilizers that can make one sleepy and dizzy.

“You’re only starting to doubt now?

We’ve actually been suspecting for a while.”

Han’s mother rubbed her chin, putting on a stern contemplative expression, “After all, looking at the attribute panel, you haven’t inherited your dad’s traits like , , , or my traits like , .”

“What even are traits?” Han Letian asked, bewildered, and retorted, “So we’re all Pokémon now?!”

Ignoring her son’s retorts, Han’s mother turned to Li Cheng and Mu Yulu, “By the way, Xiao Cheng, Xiao Lu, do you want a ride?

I’ll take you home.”

“No need, no need, we have to take a trip to the hospital.

It’s not far, so we won’t trouble Auntie.”

Li Cheng and Mu Yulu waved their hands in polite refusal.

After sending off the Audi, the two exchanged glances and sighed, then rode their bikes to the Sixth People’s Hospital of Yin City.

Han Letian’s mother is a fashion designer, and his father is a software architect.

Both were hardcore homebodies when they were young, delving deep into light novels, anime, animations, gal games, AVG, Visual Novel…

They belong to the Brahmins of the two-dimensional (2D) world.

To this day, having money and leisure, the youthful-minded couple still often attend comic conventions for fun.

Their lifelong dream is to continue wandering in the virtual world once the brain catheter from Prometheus Laboratory Company is successfully launched.

In some sense, they are enviable parents.

At least they have a healthier family atmosphere than what Li Cheng and Mu Yulu have at home—Mu Yulu’s mother suffers from a heart disease and is hospitalized long-term, necessitating her frequent visits for care.

As for Li Cheng, in addition to visiting Mu Yulu’s mother, he also had to visit Aunt Zhao from the cake shop he used to work at.

Airports have witnessed more sincere kisses than the halls of weddings; hospital walls have heard more prayers than churches.

After the visit, Li Cheng came down from the upper floor and sat on a bench in the hospital’s garden rest area, gazing at the bright moon in the night sky, when these words inexplicably crossed his mind.

He didn’t really like coming to the hospital.

It wasn’t so much about the smell of disinfectant that lingered in the air, but rather…

some examples he had seen.

Children surrounding an hospitalized elderly person were always arguing, disputing over who gave less money, who exerted less effort, who took more inheritance;

a middle-aged worker with lung disease lay in bed, while his family and the factory owner negotiated outside, deciding to give up on him;

parents pushed their child’s already cold body into the hospital, seeking to deceive and claim some compensation money, demanding doctors to attempt resuscitation;

Li Cheng didn’t see himself as a saint filled with compassion and benevolence, but sometimes he too wished that there was a panacea that could cure all diseases and alleviate all pain.

“Excuse me.”

Uncle Zhao, wearing a duckbill cap, sat down beside Li Cheng.

His face was thinner and couldn’t hide the exhaustion.

He held a pack of cheap cigarettes in his hand, was about to take one out, then seemed to remember something and put it back.

“The city’s demolition nowadays is really swift.

I went to take a look yesterday, and in just these few days, the cake shop has been demolished.”

He exclaimed, “Back then, buying equipment, dealing with paperwork, the refurbishments took almost three months.

Thinking about it now, it feels like a world apart.”

Perhaps it’s just that people tend to reminisce about the past as they age.

Uncle Zhao rambled on about old times, how he and his wife met and fell in love, how they settled down in Yin City, the joy and uneasiness they felt after having children.

Life’s story is neither too short nor too long.

The cheap cigarette pack’s cardboard got wrinkled, and the story also reached its end.

Li Cheng, who had been quietly listening and occasionally responding, paused for a moment before speaking softly, “Uncle Zhao, you didn’t use to wear hats.”

“…You noticed?”

Uncle Zhao gave a bitter smile, removing the duckbill cap from his head.

His once reasonably thick hair was now sparse, revealing yellow-stained scalp speckled with spots.

“And here.” He rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing a band of red rashes.

Li Cheng hesitated, “This is…”

“The doctor said your aunt’s cancer is tricky, even cutting out a big part of the liver wouldn’t cure it.

The best medical treatment is Gen-Sys Biotech’s gene therapy.

Tens of thousands for a single course, and four courses in total.”

Uncle Zhao spoke calmly, “I tried my best to raise some money, but it wasn’t enough, so I signed up for this company’s clinical trial for new drugs.

For each injection, they give ten thousand yuan.

If the side effects are severe, thirty thousand.

After five shots, the more shots you get, the more money they add.”

A breeze blew by, scattering thin strands of hair, like tumbleweeds drifting across in a western movie.

After a long silence, Li Cheng finally spoke hoarsely, “…I thought these kinds of human trials only existed in India,”

“Ha ha, people from different regions have different genes.

If GS company wants to develop special medicines for domestic use, they naturally need domestic test subjects.”

Uncle Zhao laughed, “As it happens, I have a rare ‘panda blood’ type, so I get paid more than others.”

If a “moral paragon” or “societal elite” were standing here, they would surely scold Uncle Zhao’s ignorance.

Should a normal person with a working brain participate in unknown medical trials?

Who knows what those large companies have put in the medications.

What if ten, twenty years later, the side effects suddenly manifest.

Dementia, stroke, hemiplegia all come at once, and the little money gained now won’t even cover medical expenses.

Seeking compensation, the clauses in the contract provided by the large company would have already sealed all possible claims.

Li Cheng almost spoke several times, but in the end, he said nothing at all—there’s only one illness in the world.

The poverty disease.

Uncle Zhao patted Li Cheng’s shoulder, put on his cap, and went back upstairs.