Chapter 252 - 114: Courage (Part 1)

Chapter 252: Chapter 114: Courage (Part 1)

"..."

Are you kidding me?

Why is Song here?

Shards of glass flew everywhere. The sudden CRASH made him the center of attention as countless gazes fell upon him. Time seemed to freeze, wrapping everyone in a thick, viscous atmosphere. Zhang Shutong could feel the muscles around his eyes stretching taut until he finally tore himself free from the frozen moment.

"What happened to him?" Zhang Shutong asked urgently. "What’s going on? He’s my homeroom teacher, a teacher at Yingcai Middle School..."

But the male nurse in the lead clearly had no time for him, startled instead by the shattered IV bottle.

"He has a head injury and has lost a lot of blood! Watch yourself! This hallway is packed. We can talk later!"

Before he could finish, the gurney’s wheels were rolling again, their clicks like a frantic drumbeat against the heart. As the nurses navigated the crowded hallway, only snippets of their rapid-fire conversation could be heard:

"I just got here. Xiaoli, Xiaohu, you were in the ambulance. What’s the situation?"

"Hypovolemic shock, unstable vitals, weak breathing, heart rate 105, currently unconscious..."

"Head trauma, no bleeding from the ears, nose, or external auditory canal. Contusions on the chest and abdomen. We’re currently suspecting a ruptured spleen. Internal bleeding would be a serious complication..."

"The bleeding itself isn’t that severe, but he was losing blood for too long. He was already unconscious when he was found."

"Level 2 Critical, hurry up..."

Critical...

But the doors to the emergency room had already SLAMMED shut.

Only then did Zhang Shutong realize he had followed them all the way to the door.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye. A wave of intense dizziness washed over him. He desperately wanted to rush over and demand answers. ’What does ’Level 2 Critical’ even mean? Is he in mortal danger? What happened to him...?’ But now, the cold metal doors blocked everything out. Zhang Shutong stood frozen in front of them, until the young nurse from before ran out.

"What’s wrong? What happened?"

She rushed to Zhang Shutong’s side and noticed the IV line in his hand. Blood had already backed up, creating a thin red line in the tube.

"You need to pull that needle out, now!"

Without another word, she took Zhang Shutong’s hand and calmly pulled out the needle.

"Press down on it yourself. Don’t just stand there in a daze."

Zhang Shutong instinctively pressed down on the spot.

The young nurse was about to say something else, but someone shouted from a hospital room, "Nurse, time for a dressing change—"

"I hear you! Coming, coming!" she shouted back, turning to run back to the room. "You should head back now. Someone will clean this up. I’ll restart your IV when I’m free. Don’t just stand there like a statue..."

Everyone was running around in a frenzy.

But Zhang Shutong remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the emergency room doors.

The green light above the door had turned an alarming shade of red. The earlier commotion was like a pebble tossed into the ocean—it had vanished without even a splash.

This was a hospital, where life and death were a constant spectacle. It was no wonder the bystanders seemed indifferent. The crowd had glanced over for just a moment before going about their business—those buying food went to buy food, those using the restroom went to the restroom, those smoking went to smoke. But he paced anxiously outside the doors, forcing himself to calm down.

’What in the world happened?’

’Didn’t we just have lunch at noon?’

’Ruoping said Song had a sudden emergency and couldn’t drive them home.’

’That must mean he drove there...’

’So, a car crash?’

’But if it was a traffic accident, why did the nurse say he was already unconscious when he was found?’

’Where on earth was he driving to?’

Zhang Shutong breathed in and out. Everyone who knew anything was inside the emergency room. There was no one he could even ask.

For the first time, he realized all he could do was wait. Anxiety, like countless tentacles, crawled over his heart, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. He was already dizzy, and now his head was starting to throb with pain. Zhang Shutong threw himself into a chair opposite the emergency room and subconsciously searched for the symptoms of a "ruptured spleen."

The internet connection here was spotty. The loading bar at the top of the browser seemed to take forever to reach the end. Finally, the screen refreshed, and a string of text flooded his vision:

"...A true rupture can lead to intra-abdominal bleeding, with a mortality rate as high as 90%. Even with timely treatment, the overall recovery rate is only about 50%..."

Zhang Shutong cursed under his breath and shut off his phone screen.

They say looking up symptoms online always leads to a terminal diagnosis, and it was absolutely true. ’What is this garbage? I never should have looked it up.’ But as he ran a hand through his hair, the cold, hard numbers seemed to be branded into his mind.

It was too sudden.

So sudden there wasn’t the slightest warning.

’How can he just be dying?’

The situation with Gu Qiuyan hadn’t even been fully resolved yet. He was still in the hospital on an IV drip, waiting for the truth to come out tonight so he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. But now his teacher was suddenly in the hospital, his life hanging in the balance just a single door away.

And there was nothing he could do but wait outside.

A wave of helplessness washed over him. He sat there until the metal doors in front of him opened, and his head snapped up.

"Hey, student! Yeah, you!"

It was the male nurse from before, the one who had been in the lead. He strode over.

"What’s your teacher’s name?"

"Song Nanshan," Zhang Shutong said, quickly standing up. "As in ’south mountain.’"

The nurse was holding a cell phone, which he recognized as Song’s.

"What about his family? Parents, spouse, anyone. Do you know how to contact them?"

"He doesn’t have any."

"You don’t know, or he doesn’t have any?"

"He doesn’t have any," Zhang Shutong said, suddenly at a loss for words. "His parents are out of town; they can’t get back in time. A spouse... my teacher is single."

As for Song’s colleagues and friends... he tried to recall any, but his mind drew a blank.

Zhang Shutong froze. He was only now realizing how little he truly knew about the man. Song was an easy-going and straightforward person, principled and unconcerned with trivialities. A man like that should have had plenty of friends, yet Shutong had never seen him be particularly social. Even when he drank, he would just buy some beer and take it back to his dorm to drink alone. The only people who ever seemed to hang around him were just a few students like themselves.