Chapter 125: The Passing of Father Chi

This story is purely fictional.

Mingyue burst into tears on the spot.

Chi Zhaoming and Wu Zhengzhe, having long known the severity of Chi Qian’s condition, were barely able to suppress their grief upon hearing the news. Mingyue, however, being a woman of particularly tender heart, was so terrified by the diagnosis of terminal cancer that she broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.

Wu Zhengzhe pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her, comforting her, "Don’t cry, please don't. This is a hospital; it’s not appropriate to disturb the emotions of others."

Mingyue took the tissue and wiped her tears, yet because of her overwhelming sorrow, she could not stop her hiccups and sobs.

"When we go to the ward in a moment, try not to cry like this. It’s enough to cry here," Chi Zhaoming said.

Hearing this, Mingyue wept even more intensely. Chi Zhaoming patted her shoulder gently and continuously.

"How are we going to explain the test results to Father when we get back to the ward? If we tell the truth, I don’t want him to fall into such despair. You didn't see how excited and joyful he was when he heard his illness might be treatable. But if we don't tell him, we have to explain why we are transferring him back to Xiaohe Hospital, don't we?" Chi Zhaoming was caught in a dilemma.

"When we came to Dahe, Uncle already knew it was for a diagnosis. Now that it is confirmed to be a brain condition, just tell him it will be more convenient to receive treatment back at Xiaohe Hospital," Wu Zhengzhe said bluntly.

"I suppose that’s the only way," Chi Zhaoming replied. "Contact an ambulance to return to Xiaohe. We’ll transfer Father this afternoon. Looking at the situation, once we are at Xiaohe, we can only rely on intravenous nutritional drips to sustain his life."

Back in the ward, Chi Zhaoming told his dazed father the results of the CT scan. "The results are consistent with those from Xiaohe Hospital. Considering it’s more convenient for treatment and less expensive to be back at Xiaohe, we’ve decided to return there. As soon as the ambulance arrives, we will depart."

Chi Qian’s consciousness was fading; his nod was so faint that one might miss it if not watching closely.

It was May in Dahe, a time that should have been cool, but the air felt stagnant. There was not a breath of wind, and the heat was unusually oppressive.

Chi Qian sat in his wheelchair, sweat constantly beading on his face. Mingyue wiped the sweat from his forehead, her heart aching as she watched her father, who lacked the strength to sit up straight, his head drooping in a way that stirred deep pity.

After waiting, the ambulance finally arrived half an hour late. Those thirty minutes felt as long as centuries.

Once Minghe and Mingyue boarded the vehicle, Chi Zhaoming and Wu Zhengzhe bid them farewell. Watching the ambulance pull away, Chi Zhaoming’s heart seemed to drift off with the fading roar of the engine. Once the vehicle was a few dozen meters away, he broke down and began to wail.

Wu Zhengzhe stood by, tears streaming down his face as he echoed Chi Zhaoming's sorrow. They stood there, dazed and speechless, watching the ambulance disappear.

After a long while, Wu Zhengzhe’s phone rang. He heard Ma Shengwei’s voice booming on the other end, "Where are you? Get back to the police station immediately. We have news about Nian Weiyi, the head coach of the Dahe Club. Come back now!"

"I just received a call; there’s an urgent matter at the station. I have to go," Wu Zhengzhe said to Chi Zhaoming. "Let’s keep in touch. Take care of yourself." With that, he ran toward the hospital exit.

Mingyue and Minghe returned to Xiaohe Hospital with their father. After getting him settled in the surgical ward, bed 32, Mingyue called Chi Zhaoming. "We have arrived safely at Xiaohe Hospital and the room is settled."

"Understood. The day after tomorrow is the weekend; Dujuan and I will come to the hospital," Chi Zhaoming replied.

"Finish your work first. Minghe and I are here; you can rest assured," Mingyue said.

On the weekend morning, Zhe-zhe drove to pick up Chi Zhaoming’s family to visit their father in Xiaohe. Along the way, the mood was heavy, and the silence in the car was suffocating.

At the hospital, Chi Qian lay in bed, the milky-white IV drip slowly entering his body. The doctor told Chi Zhaoming, "Given your father's current state, the nutrition drip is merely sustaining his life. All his organ functions are showing signs of severe failure. This is only buying a little more time. You should start making arrangements."

The family gathered—Chi Zhaoming’s four siblings, Wu Zhengzhe, and their uncle, Chi Kun. Chi Zhaoming sought his uncle’s advice.

"This is a difficult decision. You siblings should discuss it together. Whether to go home and when—you need a unanimous opinion," Chi Kun said.

After hearing their uncle, the siblings consulted in a corner of the hallway and ultimately decided to take their father home. Once they informed the doctor, discharge procedures were handled quickly.

Perhaps sensing he was leaving to return home, Chi Qian understood in his hazy consciousness that treatment had been abandoned. He knew clearly what this meant: his days were numbered.

When everything was packed, Minghe and Mingyue helped their father into his wheelchair. Chi Zhaoming saw the despair in his father’s eyes; he struggled to keep them open, but soon they drooped, and he never opened them again.

On the way home, his father remained with his eyes closed, lying on the back seat. Mingyue held him carefully, fearing any accident.

As they reached the door of the old house, Chi Zhaoming’s mother saw her children and Wu Zhengzhe bringing Chi Qian home. She let out a wail of agony, a sound so heart-wrenching that the siblings could not help but weep.

After moving Chi Qian to his bed, his mother brought a basin of warm water to wipe his body and change his hospital clothes. By the time everything was settled, it was late.

Fatigue was written on Chi Zhaoming’s face. "We will head back to Dahe today, but we will stay in touch," he said to Mingyue and his mother, accompanied by Dujuan and Wu Zhengzhe.

Back in Dahe, Chi Zhaoming was exhausted, and Dujuan looked equally drained. "Get some rest. This trip was hard on you. We don't know what will happen once the old man is home. Oh, he truly suffered!"

Dujuan’s eyes closed, and she fell asleep from sheer weariness.

Time passed until, in the middle of the night, Chi Zhaoming’s phone rang. Seeing it was the landline from his old home, his heart sank. He sensed what had happened; otherwise, Mingyue wouldn't call before dawn.

Dujuan was awakened by the ringtone. Still groggy, she heard Mingyue’s voice on the other end, hoarse from crying: "Father passed away at four this morning."

"We are getting up now. We should be there by six or seven. You, Minghe, and Mingyue, prepare what needs to be prepared. My wife, Xiyu, and I will be there," Chi Zhaoming said, rising from bed to prepare for the funeral.

Chi Zhaoming, Wu Zhengzhe, Dujuan, and Xiyu departed before dawn and arrived at Xiaohe by nine in the morning. Seeing her children and Wu Zhengzhe arrive, Chi Zhaoming’s mother wept uncontrollably beside the coffin.

All present were moved to tears. Gazing at his father’s remains, Chi Zhaoming was filled with profound emotion. During the memorial service, he wept as he bid his father a final farewell.

On the day of the funeral, relatives, friends, and siblings gathered, dressed in mourning attire, kneeling in prayer. Paper blossoms fell from the sky like snow. The hearse led the procession to the funeral home, where Chi Qian’s body was reduced to a wisp of smoke ascending to the heavens.

Sitting in the front of the hearse, holding his father’s portrait and urn, Chi Zhaoming felt a faint warmth, as if his father were still comforting his chest with his presence.

The farewell ceremony followed local customs. At the memorial, Chi Zhaoming, with tears streaming down his face, read the eulogy:

"Reflecting on a father’s grace, as vast as the sky and earth. Beating my chest in remorse, for I have repaid not a fraction. My father’s virtues are sung by all. Through freezing winters and scorching summers, he feared no hardship. In solitude and cold rain, he never ceased his toil. Through all seasons, he knew no leisure. Fields and ponds were tended with care. His yields brought pride to our village. I was not gifted, failing to excel in my studies. My uncle’s wisdom sent me to the army. By the lamp’s light, I studied until I finally entered university. When the army downsized, I moved to Dahe. I have been an unfilial son, stumbling into a web of mistakes. Hearing this, Father bore it in silence. He burned his own life’s oil to cover my debts. Counting every penny, he eventually fell ill. Fearing I would worry, he hid the signs. With a frail body, he held an iron will. I failed to notice a thing. Father has left me, and my grief is boundless. I write these words to remember and cherish him. May he find peace in the heavens, watching over us, ascending to paradise, never to be forgotten!"

Not far from the old house, a mound of earth became Chi Qian’s final resting place. (To be continued)