Fortunately, Shen Shuangjian only suffering from a high fever and no damage or deterioration of her heart function. She was taken to the emergency room, where her breathing difficulties caused by the high fever were relieved, and she was given a large amount of fluids via intramuscular injection.
After being in the emergency room for several hours, Shen Shuangjian was wheeled out again. However, a high fever would put a strain on the internal organs and weaken the heart.
Therefore, Shen Shuangjian that if the fever didn't subside within an hour, the danger would increase.
After a night of chaos, Shen Shuangjian's fever finally subsided, and Shen Sixian and Xie Jinghui, who had reacted differently before, both breathed a sigh of relief.
After a busy night, the exhausted doctor took off his gloves and came out of the ward to stand before the two men.
"The patient's fever has subsided, and if nothing unexpected happens, they'll be fine."
Upon hearing Shen Sixian slowly closed his eyes, wanting to speak, but found his breathing became erratic for a moment, forcing him to turn his head and cough heavily.
At this moment, there were too many questions to ask. Xie Jinghui moved his fingers, trying to stand up, but when he leaned forward slightly, he found that his tense body was now unable to stand up properly.
The doctor doesn't care what their current condition is; he only cares about the patient's physical health.
The doctor, with a cold expression, asked, "What is the patient's daily life like at home? How is he/she cared for?"
Shen Sixian was still coughing. He choked on his own breath and heard the doctor ask him a question. He tried to speak, but he couldn't stop coughing.
In the end, Xie Jinghui was the first to speak.
"I spend my time at home reading and watching TV, my meals are mostly regular, I haven't eaten any unhealthy food, I get enough sleep, I'm sheltered from the wind, and I've never been cold."
Shen Sixian's cough finally stopped. He covered his lips slightly and frowned, saying, " Zhizhi has a weak constitution and used to get sick all the time, so we take very good care of her now. We can't let her get tired or cold, and in winter she doesn't even dare to go out."
Even though she was constantly on edge and taking great care of herself, she still fell seriously ill.
The doctor listened to their conversation, but the more she listened, the more her brows furrowed. Finally, she looked up, her expression one of utter disappointment.
"Sometimes people say that if you don't get sick for a long time, when you do get sick, it's bound to be a serious illness, and there's some truth to that."
"Sometimes catching a cold and having a fever is just the body clearing out viruses, and it has nothing to do with whether you're exposed to wind, cold, or tired!"
The doctor shook his head more and more as he spoke.
"The patient is weak, so you should find ways to exercise him and gradually improve his health. There's no reason to ruin him by raising him like this. If he stays at home all day and is lazy, even if his bones don't become brittle, he'll eventually develop bedsores."
"Maintain a regular schedule, eat and exercise more, and supplement your nutrition, but don't pursue a healthier diet too much. The patient is just physically weak, not so sick that he can't move. Why are you ruining him by taking care of him like this!"
"What era are we living in? Still trying to keep up with those ancient practices of lying down to maintain health? Let me tell you, it's useless, it'll only make you sicker!"
A barrage of criticism, expressing disappointment and frustration, completely silenced the two men who had been treating Shen Shuangjian a porcelain doll.
They were always overly cautious, afraid that Shen Shuangjian get sick and tired, that he would catch a cold if he was cold, or that he would suffer from heatstroke if he was hot. As a result, Shen Shuangjian walking just a few steps.
Whenever they saw this expression, they felt so heartbroken that they wished the person could rest for three days and three nights to recover their lost strength.
But little did they expect that this would lead to a mistake.
"Then, should we let Zhizhi exercise?" Shen Sixian frowned. "But he has a heart condition, and..."
The doctor looked up and interrupted, "I didn't ask you to force the patient to become an athlete. Don't do high-intensity exercise, or the heart muscle might not be able to function properly."
"Gentle exercise, in small amounts and frequently, can boost your immunity. Also, avoid staying up late and frequent sexual activity. Heart disease is scary, but it's not that scary."
"The patient's heart disease is congenital, and so far it hasn't worsened or caused any damage. His biggest problem is his weak constitution. We're telling you to take good care of him, but we're not asking you to ruin him."
Shen Sixian: "..."
Xie Jinghui: "..."
The doctor shook his head, feeling both sympathy and regret. "Alright, the nurses will come and tell you about the follow-up precautions. The patient should be able to be transferred to a regular ward this afternoon, so you don't need to worry too much."
The doctor left after speaking, leaving only the two people in the corridor.
Shen Sixian pushed open the door to the ward, and the first thing he Shen Shuangjian lying silently on the hospital bed.
The respirator was still on his face, making his pale, thin face look even smaller and more fragile.
Shen Sixian walked over in silence, took Shen Shuangjian's hand, and remained silent for a long time before slowly pressing his forehead against hers.
" Shuangjian..."
What should I offer in exchange for what God has?
Powerlessness, unease, and confusion lingered in Shen Sixian's heart, turning into blades that tore his heart to shreds.
When money, power, reputation, and fame have all lost their power, what can Shen Sixian rely on?
Should one kneel and pray for fate's mercy, or place one's hopes on the myriad gods and Buddhas in the heavens?
Where exactly should we look to hold onto the fragile butterfly on our fingertips?
"Has my brother committed many evil deeds throughout his life?"
That's why they'll blame all the retribution on you.
Is it because his heart was not sincere enough that even the Vermilion Bird, a symbol of good fortune, refused to lower its eyes and bestow blessings?
They clearly said that two blood relatives can share everything.
Money, power, fame, and even life.
Even though the strands of hair I cut off from my head were thrown into the flames, why did it still not work?
Did he mistakenly contact the wrong person, or was he truly desperate and grasping at straws, thus believing such absurd nonsense?
But if God doesn't really exist, why do so many people believe in Him?
But if gods truly exist, then why is it that among three thousand gods and Buddhas, not one could hold onto the white bird that fluttered into his heart?
If you truly exist, why can't you let Shen Shuangjian share his life? Clearly, in this world, he is the only one with the opportunity to dedicate everything to Shen Shuangjian.
Or perhaps he was too greedy and not devout enough.
God demanded that he exchange his life for Shen Shuangjian be a hundred years old.
A sense of powerlessness and despair, a desperate anger—when everything is burned to ashes, one must find someone to blame in order to find an outlet for emotional release.
Shen Sixian felt that he should blame those lamas, and blame the gods who existed in people's mouths but had never appeared.
Blame them for being empty-minded.
Blame them for being ethereal.
Blame them for being useless.
It's because they never existed.
But at this moment, Shen Sixian found that he didn't even dare to harbor resentment.
Because he feared the unknown, whether true or false, retribution.
If there truly is retribution, I only beg you to spare Shen Shuangjian.