Chapitre 15: Awakening (Part Two)
San Pao, where's Fatty? Is he alright?"
When Fang Yi regained consciousness, he found himself in a hospital room. Turning his head slightly, he noticed that aside from an elderly man on the adjacent bed, who was reading with the aid of reading glasses, only Peng Sanjun stood nearby.
"He's fine..." San Pao replied, a hint of anxiety in his voice. "If it weren't for you, Fatty might not have made it. I want to thank you on his behalf..."
"What are you saying? Both you and Fatty are my closest friends. If it were you, I would have done the same to save him, wouldn't I?" Fang Yi chuckled at San Pao's words. In that moment before the accident, he hadn't thought twice; his only instinct was to push Fatty out of harm's way.
"Yes, I would have saved him too!" San Pao nodded earnestly. If he had possessed Fang Yi's quick reflexes, he would have acted just as swiftly.
"Fang Yi, are you feeling unwell? Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat..." Noticing Fang Yi's pale lips, San Pao stood up, intending to fetch him some water, only to discover that the bedside table was empty and the water jug contained not a single drop.
"I feel weak all over, but I'm not particularly hungry. Could you please get me some water..." Fang Yi attempted to sit up, but his arms lacked strength, and he found himself lying back down.
"Young man, the water's at the stairwell; there's a supermarket on the first floor that sells everything. Why not buy something while you're at it?" The elderly man in the adjacent bed, having overheard their conversation, kindly interjected.
"Thank you, sir..." San Pao replied, turning to Fang Yi. "You just rest; I'll go get a cup and some water for you..."
San Pao felt fortunate that he had insisted the driver leave behind two hundred yuan; otherwise, he wouldn't even have enough for basic necessities like toilet paper or a cup.
"Young man, did you get into an accident?" After San Pao left, the elderly man inquired.
"Yes, I was hit by a car..." Fang Yi managed a bitter smile. Having grown up in the mountains, he was accustomed to sleeping while meditating at night; lying quietly in a hospital bed was a novel experience for him.
"Was that person your friend?" The elderly man set down his book, appearing bored and eager for conversation.
"Yes, he's my friend..." Fang Yi assessed the elderly man beside him, noting that he was in his sixties, wearing glasses, and dressed in a hospital gown, with a thin blanket draped over his legs.
"Such camaraderie among the youth is truly rare these days..." The elderly man, having gleaned some background from their earlier exchange, regarded Fang Yi with a newfound respect.
"Sir, I see you've injured your right leg?" Fang Yi observed the elderly man and spoke up.
"Hmm? How did you know it was my right leg that was injured?"
The elderly man paused, then chuckled, "I slipped while getting up to use the restroom at night and hurt my right leg. Ah, age has its drawbacks..."
"You're still quite vigorous, sir. A few days of rest, and you'll be fine..." Fang Yi smiled, refraining from elaborating. Having studied traditional Chinese medicine under an old Taoist since childhood, he had often assisted injured individuals in the mountains, and he could easily discern the old man's injury.
"Here, young man, have an apple. I see your lips are parched..." The elderly man kindly offered an apple from his bedside. He noticed that aside from the bandage on Fang Yi's chest, he appeared unscathed, assuming his injuries were not severe.
"Thank you, sir..." Fang Yi genuinely wished to accept the apple, but he couldn't lift his hand and could only manage a wry smile. "I... I can't muster any strength in my hands right now..."
"Is your body alright? You're not experiencing any serious issues, are you?" After feeling the weakness in his body twice, Fang Yi began to feel anxious. He was not yet twenty; if he were to suffer from paralysis, it would be better to perish than to live in such a state.
"Sir, I'm feeling a bit fatigued; I think I'll rest for a while..."
With that thought, Fang Yi addressed the elderly man before taking a deep breath. He focused on the Taoist breathing technique he had practiced for over a decade, attempting to circulate his internal energy.
In Taoist practice, "small circulation" refers to the process of internal energy flowing from the lower dantian, passing through the perineum, traversing the spine along the Du meridian to the tailbone and the three gates of the spine and the occiput, reaching the crown of the head, and then descending through the ears to the tip of the tongue. Due to its relatively small range, it is termed "small circulation."
In the practice of internal alchemy, small circulation is the process of refining essence into energy, also known as the hundred-day foundation.
In truth, cultivating energy is not as esoteric as it seems; even an ordinary person practicing diligently over time can sense energy. By the age of eight, Fang Yi had already been able to feel the energy in his dantian, and after more than a decade of rigorous practice, he was nearly capable of executing the "great circulation."
"Fortunately, the internal energy remains..."
Upon sensing the energy in his dantian, Fang Yi let out a sigh of relief. As long as the internal energy persisted, it could replenish his body's depleted vitality, allowing his acquired essence to return to its innate state, thereby promoting health and dispelling illness.
Fang Yi's master had lived to a ripe old age and could still traverse the mountain paths with agility, attributing his vitality to the cultivation of energy. Thus, Fang Yi believed that as long as his internal energy remained intact, his body would gradually recover.
"Indeed, it proves effective..." After completing a cycle of small circulation, the soreness and weakness in his body diminished significantly, and his complexion regained some color, instilling a sense of calm within Fang Yi.
"Fang Yi, Fang Yi, are you awake?"
Just as Fang Yi finished his small circulation, approximately ten minutes later, the door to the hospital room swung open, and Fatty rushed to his bedside, tears streaming down his face before he even spoke.
"Fang Yi, you... you scared me to death..." Fatty, at a loss for words, could only sob, gripping Fang Yi's hand tightly, occasionally raising it to wipe away his tears.
"You glutton, how utterly embarrassing..." Fang Yi attempted to withdraw his hand, but he lacked the strength to overpower Fatty, finding the situation both amusing and exasperating.
"Fatty, step aside; I need to get Fang Yi some water..."
Entering behind them, San Pao kicked Fatty aside and set a plastic bag on the bedside. "I just bought some things and ran into those two. By the way, Fang Yi, that's the guy who hit you..."
"Young brother, I sincerely apologize. This whole incident is my fault; I was distracted while driving..."
Manjun stepped forward, forcing a pained expression onto his face. In truth, he was genuinely distressed; he wondered who he had offended to incur such a financial burden for no reason.
"This... this isn't your fault; it's... it's our..."
Fang Yi hesitated upon hearing the bald driver's words. It seemed the incident had been triggered by Fatty standing in the middle of the road to stop traffic. If blame were to be assigned, Fatty would certainly bear more than fifty percent of the responsibility.
"Cough, cough, Fang Yi, do you have any other discomforts?"
Seeing that Fang Yi was about to speak too freely, Fatty quickly coughed to interrupt him. What a joke it would be if the bald driver learned the true circumstances; the two thousand yuan tucked away in his pocket would surely be demanded back.
"I'm just feeling weak all over; I can barely lift my hand..."
Noticing Fatty's subtle signals, Fang Yi quickly grasped the situation. Although he had grown up in the mountains, it didn't mean he was naive; in fact, among the three brothers, he was the most perceptive.
"Hmm? Can you move your legs?" Fatty's expression shifted as he asked, "This... this wouldn't lead to paralysis, would it? If so, I don't think you should leave; that two thousand won't cover it..."
"Hey, come on, we can't think like that..." Manjun protested. "We agreed that I would cover the medical expenses and pay an additional two thousand. Are you trying to extort me? I won't fall for that..."
Having navigated the social landscape for over twenty years, Manjun had been reluctant to escalate matters due to his unlicensed driving incident. However, seeing Fatty becoming increasingly demanding, he felt a surge of irritation, and his words became less courteous.
"I'm not trying to extort you. Here's what we can do: you can pay an additional fifty thousand as a deposit for the hospital stay. You keep the receipt, and when it's time to discharge, we can settle up then. Sound good?"
Fatty had no intention of extorting Manjun; after all, he had promised to cover the medical bills. The money would come from those expenses, and since Manjun held the receipts, they would need him to handle the discharge procedures.
"That... that sounds reasonable, but I truly don't have that much cash on hand..."
Manjun paused, realizing the logic in Fatty's proposal, but he genuinely lacked the funds. He could scrape together three to five thousand, but coming up with fifty thousand was beyond his means.
"Come on, brother, your shop must be worth at least a million or two. Surely you can manage this much?"
Fatty had accompanied Manjun to his shop earlier and knew it was an antique store. Just the furnishings and décor alone would cost at least a hundred thousand, and on the way, many people had greeted Manjun, indicating he held some standing in the community.
Hearing Fatty's words, Manjun couldn't help but chuckle, responding, "Young brother, you don't understand. In our antique business, we might not have cash flow for three years, but when we do open, we eat well for three years. Who keeps such a large sum of money on hand?"
"Who are you trying to fool? I refuse to believe you can't scrape together fifty thousand..." Fatty shook his head repeatedly, clearly unconvinced that someone in such a lucrative business could be short on cash.
"Well, he has a point. Those in business don't always have liquid assets, and antique dealers are especially prone to this..." Before Fatty could finish, an unexpected voice chimed in from the side.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone