Chapter 27: Awakening
Youth, are you alright? Please take a look at the light..." The attending physician had changed, now a man in his fifties, holding a flashlight and preparing to examine Fang Yi's pupils.
"Doctor Wu, I'm fine..." Upon hearing the doctor's voice, Fang Yi, shaking off his shock, nodded and read aloud the surname on the name tag pinned to the doctor's white coat to demonstrate his clarity.
"Well, you seem to be alright. You all can disperse now. And, by the way, smoking is prohibited in the ward..." As Doctor Wu spoke, Fang Yi realized that the ward was not occupied solely by the chubby boy and the doctor; besides Sun Lao's son, Sun Chao, the boss Man was also present.
Perhaps unable to resist his craving, Man Jun had lit a cigarette at the doorway. However, the smell of smoke was quite pungent amidst the sterile scent of disinfectant in the ward. He had barely taken a puff before the doctor caught him.
"Hey, hey, extinguish it, extinguish it..." Man Jun exclaimed, yet he still took a deep drag before reluctantly snuffing out the cigarette, prompting Doctor Wu to shake his head disapprovingly.
"Fang Yi, is it? What kind of practice were you engaged in earlier? I could hardly detect your breathing..."
Ignoring the chubby boy's eager, ingratiating smile, Doctor Wu focused his attention on Fang Yi. Having studied under an old traditional Chinese medicine practitioner in his youth, he possessed some knowledge of medical principles. Fortunately, it was his shift today; had it been a younger doctor, they might have rushed to take the faint-breathing Qin Feng for emergency treatment.
"I wasn't practicing anything special..." A hint of confusion flickered in Fang Yi's eyes as he replied, "I was merely meditating. Oh, right, I was practicing yoga..."
Fang Yi recognized that in this enlightened age, one must adhere to scientific explanations, so he chose to mention a term he had previously heard rather than delve into the complexities of Daoist cultivation.
Interestingly, Fang Yi had indeed learned some yoga from a radio broadcast years ago, but the poses had posed little challenge for him; he could effortlessly perform even the most difficult yoga positions.
"Oh, so it was yoga. No wonder your breathing was so faint..."
Upon hearing Fang Yi's response, Doctor Wu nodded. In recent years, yoga had gained immense popularity in the country, not only featuring a yoga master teaching poses on television by the seaside but also being discussed on the radio.
Just a few days prior, Doctor Wu had come across a news article stating that a seventy-year-old yoga master from India had buried himself underground for a full eight days and emerged completely unscathed.
"Fang Yi, remember to practice yoga under guidance in the future, alright? It can be quite dangerous otherwise..."
Seeing Fang Yi alert and articulate, Doctor Wu imparted a few words of caution before glancing at the others in the ward, saying, "Except for the two who are staying to care for the patient, everyone else should leave now. Visiting hours have ended..."
According to hospital regulations, only one caregiver or family member could remain after ten o'clock at night. Had Fang Yi not been in an unresponsive state, Doctor Wu would have already asked everyone to leave.
"Doctor Wu, we'll be leaving soon. Just a few more words before we go..." Sun Chao, with a smile, slipped a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes into Doctor Wu's coat pocket, whispering, "It's late, Doctor Wu; perhaps a smoke would help you stay alert..."
"Alright, but no more than half an hour. You all need to leave..." As the saying goes, one does not strike a smiling face; Doctor Wu accepted the gesture without hesitation and stepped out of the ward to return to the duty room.
"Xiao Fang, are you alright? You truly scared me..." After Doctor Wu departed, Sun Lianda said apologetically, "I noticed something was off with you, which is why I called the doctor. Xiao Fang, this hasn't affected your practice, has it?"
In fact, when Sun Chao had brought dinner earlier, Sun Lianda had prevented his son from waking Fang Yi. However, after nearly ten hours of Fang Yi maintaining his previous position, Sun Lianda could no longer contain his anxiety and, disregarding the chubby boy and San Pao's objections, called the doctor.
"Yes, Xiao Fang, you haven't gone too deep into your practice, have you?" Sun Chao looked at Fang Yi with concern. Although he was not young, he was an avid martial arts enthusiast, having been captivated by Hong Kong and Taiwan martial arts novels since the 1970s, and his imagination was quite vivid.
"Going too deep? You might be closer to the truth than you think..." Fang Yi chuckled inwardly, raising his head to say, "Sun Lao, Sun Ge, I'm fine. This yoga is merely a means to calm the mind; even if you had awakened me, it wouldn't have mattered..."
In truth, with Fang Yi's current level of cultivation, he had yet to reach the state where one remains unperturbed in the face of a collapsing mountain. Even if he entered a deep state of meditation, excessive noise could still rouse him.
However, Fang Yi's situation was somewhat unique; while traversing the sea of consciousness, he was largely oblivious to external disturbances. Had his spiritual energy not instinctively retreated, his physical body would have been akin to a soulless shell, devoid of any thought.
"That's a relief, that's a relief..." Sun Lao repeatedly expressed, a glimmer of relief crossing his face.
"Xiao Fang, here, I brought you some turtle soup that's still warm. You should drink some..."
Seeing that Fang Yi was unharmed, Sun Chao produced a thermos filled with soup. The two turtles had sufficient weight, and Sun Chao had brought four thermoses in total, as the chubby boy and San Pao had already eaten.
"Thank you, Sun Ge..." For some reason, Fang Yi felt an intense hunger at that moment. Without hesitation, he took the thermos and checked the soup's temperature before gulping it down.
"Is there ginseng in this soup? It seems to be quite aged..."
After consuming over a pound of turtle soup in one go, Fang Yi felt as if every cell in his body were sighing with relief. The warmth from the soup rapidly permeated his being, and he sensed the soreness in his body diminish significantly.
As a practitioner of martial arts, Fang Yi understood the ancient wisdom that those who toil with words are often impoverished, while those who train in martial arts are wealthy in strength. Due to their physical training, martial artists require far more sustenance than the average person, and their digestive capabilities are not to be compared with those of ordinary individuals.
For instance, while an average person might sustain themselves with a bowl of rice for lunch until dinner, a martial artist might consume five bowls of rice at lunch and feel hungry again within just two hours. Thus, for the impoverished in ancient times seeking to practice martial arts, the challenge was far greater than that of passing examinations for scholars.
"Sun Ge, is this food also reserved for me?" As he glanced at the now-cold braised turtle meat and two other dishes on the bedside table, Fang Yi inquired, while his stomach compelled him to bring a plate of food closer.
"It is for you, but it's already cold. Should I go downstairs to heat it up for you?" Sun Chao offered. Due to Fang Yi's situation, they had hardly eaten, and Sun Chao had brought enough food for five or six people, with at least three portions still remaining.
"Sun Ge, eating something cold is perfect for such a hot day..."
As Fang Yi spoke, he had already stuffed several pieces of turtle meat into his mouth, chewing vigorously until the once-tough bones were reduced to mush, mixed with the meat and swallowed.
In a mere three minutes, Fang Yi had devoured all the dishes and most of the rice, and upon finishing the last grain, he cast a reluctant glance at the empty plates.
"Wow, Fang Yi, when did you become such a glutton?"
Almost everyone was left dumbfounded by Fang Yi's voracious appetite. The chubby boy, quick to respond, exclaimed, "This is it; with such a massive appetite, two thousand yuan won't even cover your monthly food expenses! No way, Boss Man, this must be a consequence of Fang Yi's accident; you'll need to compensate him further..."
"Chubby, that's not fair..."
Man Jun, who had stealthily lit another cigarette, found himself amused by the chubby boy's remark, pointing at him and saying, "What a rare statement! You think getting into an accident makes one eat more? If it were me, I'd gladly take that trade. Don't you know that being able to eat is a blessing?"
"Alright, chubby, this isn't Boss Man's fault..." Fang Yi waved his hand dismissively. He understood his own circumstances; if there were any aftereffects, they stemmed from his spiritual energy entering the sea of consciousness, not from Boss Man.
Seeing Man Jun's presence, Fang Yi assumed he was worried about potential repercussions and said, "Boss Man, don't fret; we won't extort you. I'll stay for one more day, and I should be discharged by the day after tomorrow at the latest..."
"That's fine, Xiao Fang. You can stay a few more days; you need not worry about the medical expenses..."
Upon hearing Fang Yi's words, Man Jun realized he had misunderstood and replied, "I came today to discuss that fan painting with Sun Lao. Since you were unresponsive, everyone lost the mood for the transaction, but now that you're awake, it's all good..."
In the afternoon, Man Jun had shown the Tang Bohu fan painting to one of his old clients, who only offered forty-five thousand yuan. Naturally, Man Jun refused to sell, as he intended to leverage his connection with Sun Lianda, who had offered a significantly higher price.
Business is not about personal favors, and Man Jun was quite adept at navigating relationships. While he did not sell the painting to that client, he treated them to a meal. Consequently, he arrived at the hospital a bit late, as Sun Lao and the others were preoccupied with concerns over Fang Yi's condition, and thus the fan transaction had yet to occur.
"I had almost forgotten about that..."
Upon hearing Man Jun's words, Sun Lao turned to him and said, "I'll take that fan painting. Leave me your account details; if you trust me, I can transfer the money to you tomorrow. If not, we can arrange for the exchange tomorrow instead..."
"Sun Lao, you need not worry. Keeping it with you is safer than in a vault..."
Man Jun had intended to strengthen his bond with Sun Lianda through the sale of the fan painting. Not only would Sun Lianda pay him promptly, but Man Jun would also relish the thought of delaying payment for ten or even twenty years.
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