Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

She fumbled for the light switch. The dim bulb flickered, illuminating half of the bedside area.

Yang Ruihua was startled. Yan Bugui was huddled under the quilt, his face ashen, beads of sweat the size of soybeans hanging from his forehead, his hair soaked and plastered to his scalp.

"Old man! What's wrong with you!" Yang Ruihua reached out and touched his forehead; it was burning hot! He had a high fever.

He then touched her belly, and sure enough, it was bulging out and hard as a rock, like he was carrying a solid iron weight. As soon as he pressed down, Yan Bugui let out a scream.

"Don't touch me! It hurts so much!" Yan Bugui was barely breathing, too weak to even open his eyes, and his whole body was still trembling.

Yang Ruihua panicked and, without even pulling off her shoes properly, shuffled towards the outer courtyard's back building in her cloth shoes.

"Jiecheng! Jiecheng! Get up! Your dad is dying!"

In the outer courtyard, in the back room, Yan Jiecheng was fast asleep, embracing Yu Li, still counting the ten yuan and thirty cents in wedding gifts he had collected during the day. He was woken up by the banging on the door, his anger simmering with nowhere to vent.

"What are you doing in the middle of the night! Can't a person get any sleep?!" Yan Jiecheng said irritably, putting on his coat and pulling the door latch. He was still a little confused and didn't hear his mother's voice clearly.

"Go borrow a car right away! Your dad's stomach hurting so badly he's rolling around in bed, and he's burning up with fever. We need to get him to the hospital tonight!" Yang Ruihua said anxiously, wiping away tears.

Upon hearing this, Yan Jiecheng was wide awake. If his father really confessed now, he would be in complete trouble. He turned and ran to the middle courtyard, knocked on the door of Zhang Dabiao's small courtyard, and pushed out his tricycle.

"Da Biao, I need to take my dad to the hospital. Can I borrow your tricycle?"

Human life is at stake, and Zhang Dabiao couldn't possibly fuss over such a trivial matter. He had just put on his clothes and stepped out of the small wooden house when he saw Yan Jiecheng already pushing the cart away.

The family was in complete disarray. Yan Jiecheng rode in front, while Yang Ruihua pushed from behind. Yan Bugui huddled in the back of the cart, covered with a blanket, groaning and moaning all the way with each bump as the wheels rolled over the flagstones.

In the dead of night, a cold wind blew straight into his collar. Yan Jiecheng, sweating profusely and panting heavily, rode straight to the hospital.

I went to the hospital and registered for emergency treatment.

The doctor on duty was a middle-aged man wearing thick-rimmed reading glasses, his face showing signs of exhaustion from staying up all night. He listened to Yan Bugui's bloated belly for a long time with his stethoscope, and then pressed on several other areas.

"Ouch! Doctor, you're being ruthless! Be gentle!" Yan Bugui trembled all over in pain.

The doctor put down his stethoscope, glanced coldly at the family member beside him, and said, "What did you eat so late at night? Your bowel sounds are extremely loud, your stomach is severely bloated, and your belly is as hard as a rock. You've overeaten!"

Yang Ruihua's face flushed red, and he stammered out the details: "I...I just made some braised pork, half a chicken, a few stir-fries, and drank some sorghum liquor."

The doctor snorted, not believing Yan Bugui had only eaten so little. He quickly wrote down the prescription: "This is considered a little? This amount of food is like a cow ruminating. Acute gastroenteritis, caused by overeating and high-concentration alcohol, resulting in severe indigestion and damage to the gastric mucosa. In layman's terms, this is called indigestion, he's just stuffed up."

Lying on the hospital bed, Yan Bugui barely managed to get a breath before interjecting, "Doctor, just prescribe two cents worth of digestive tablets. I don't want expensive medicine; it's too much money."

"Digestive pills?" The doctor stopped writing with his pen, slammed the prescription on the table, and said, "Your stomach lining is about to burst. Even taking Da Feng Wan (a traditional Chinese medicine) won't help! Pay up and go get your stomach pumped right now! If you delay any longer, your stomach wall will perforate, and you'll have to be rushed into the operating room for major surgery. At that point, it won't be something that can be dealt with for just a few dollars."

Stomach pumping!

These two words, once they reached Yan Bugui's ears, were more painful than having his flesh cut with a dull knife. What exactly is stomach lavage? It's inserting a thick tube into his stomach, draining out all the good stuff he risked his life to eat that night, and then flushing it away with water!

That's pork belly! That's a chicken leg! Those are fried peanuts!

Yan Bugui, seemingly summoned by some unknown evil force, sat up abruptly, shaking his head violently: "I won't wash! I'd rather die than wash! You paid for this, you can't just take it back! You're trying to murder me for money!"

The doctor was experienced and knowledgeable, but he had never encountered someone so stingy as to risk their life like this before. He pointed to the door and told them to leave: "If you don't get your stomach pumped, take them home and wait for surgery to open the perforation. The hospital will not be responsible if anyone dies."

Yang Ruihua became furious, gripping Yan Bugui's shoulders tightly: "Old man, are you possessed! You're risking your life for money! Drilling and surgery will cost at least tens of yuan, emptying our savings!"

Well, they're still calculating costs. These two are from the same company. The doctor is truly impressed.

Yan Jiecheng quickly stepped forward, using his weight to press down on his father's arm: "Dad, listen to the doctor! Your belly is swollen like a balloon; if you keep carrying it like this, we'll really have to make arrangements for your funeral. Hurry up and wash!"

【What the hell?! Can't you even speak properly?! What's with the funeral arrangements?!】

Yan Bugui struggled desperately, using both hands and feet, and kept spitting out slurred syllables: "My meat... my chicken legs... all that money..."

The nurse pushed in the gastric lavage machine, her face expressionless. A rubber tube, as thick as a finger, gleamed pale under the operating lights.

"Family members, hold his head down firmly, and make sure he doesn't move!" the nurse instructed.

Yan Jiecheng and Yang Ruihua, one on each side, firmly nailed Yan Bugui to the iron bed frame. The nurse pinched his nose and, taking advantage of the moment he opened his mouth to gasp for air, inserted a tube down his throat.

"vomit--"

This stab caused Yan Bugui's defenses to crumble completely. His eyes rolled back, his limbs twitched as if electrocuted, and he made muffled gagging sounds. His hands flailed wildly in mid-air, unable to grasp anything, and he could only frantically dig at the sheets, his fingernails full of loose threads.

Warm saline solution was poured in large quantities through the tubing, churning it in the stomach. The cool liquid stretched the stomach walls. Then, the nurse began squeezing the rubber bulb to drain the stomach contents. In those days, they used a funnel-shaped gastric lavage device, which was manual.

Waste began to pour out of the iron drum next to it.

The entire emergency room instantly filled with a pungent, fermenting smell of swill. Yang Ruihua turned her face away, squatted in the corner, and dry heaved. Yan Jiecheng also held his breath in disgust and turned his head to the side.

As Yan Bugui endured the torment of the tube being inserted and stirred, he glanced sideways at the "real gold and silver" being pulled out of the bucket, and cloudy old tears streamed down his face.

The excruciating stomach pain was one thing. The worst part was the heartache! Those were all delicious dishes, the kind of hearty meals I never even get to smell! All that suffering for nothing! My money!

The gastric lavage took a full half hour. The nurses didn't remove the tubes until the drained fluid was crystal clear.

Yan Bugui lay limp on the hospital bed like a lump of mud, his face as white as paper, his voice so hoarse that he couldn't utter a single word, and he was barely breathing.

The doctor examined me and prescribed an anti-inflammatory IV drip.

"Go to the window and pay the fee, then take the prescription to get the price checked." The doctor handed the prescription to Yang Ruihua.

Yang Ruihua took the form and walked to the payment counter, handing it into the small window.

The cashier inside was busy calculating on her abacus, announcing the bill: "Emergency registration fee: 20 cents; gastric lavage fee: 1.5 yuan; IV drip and medication fee: 1.3 yuan. Total: 3 yuan."

Yang Ruihua's hand trembled violently, and her eyes instantly reddened.

Three yuan!

What's the point of all this?

孽 孽!