Chapter 374

Not long after, Zhou Bin left; as he departed, his

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but when the words reached my lips I realized I didn't know where to begin, so I could only watch him leave like that, silently blessing him in my heart.

This experience could be said to have greatly broadened my horizons. I never imagined that medicine also contained such a method; the Mischievous Immortal possessing Zhou Bin is essentially an aged wild immortal, and if I were to act, I might have to expend some effort, and I cannot be absolutely sure not to harm Zhou Bin himself.

However, Pangzi merely used a few tiny silver needles, and that so-called Mischievous Immortal was scared to the point of losing control of its bowels, not daring to breathe, and hastily left Zhou Bin's body. While it was a narrow escape, it also made me sincerely admire the vast and profound Chinese culture from the bottom of my heart.

According to common understanding, medicine among the five arts merely uses prescriptions and needle techniques to treat illness and maintain health. Yet who would have thought that this seemingly tangible field possesses an unfathomable intangible power, not inferior at all to the talisman-drawing and troop-deploying of mountain arts.

Each of the five arts possesses the heaven-defying miraculous effect of turning white bones into decay; the things left by our ancestors are vast and profound. It's not that they are useless, but that we have not yet grasped their essence.

The crowd of onlookers gradually dispersed; Pangzi and I tidied up, supported the injured Yao Yirong on the arm, the group rested a bit, then prepared to leave the park. But just then, the scene unfolded another highly dramatic episode that left us both laughing and crying.

An elderly woman over sixty, with a hunched back like a camel, wearing a checkered hemp garment, fell to her knees with a thud before us before we could react, and tightly grabbed Pangzi's sleeve.

"Oh great immortal, please help, save my poor granddaughter? Please" she pleaded, grabbing Pangzi's collar with one hand while kneeling.

Her action frightened Pangzi and me, and we quickly knelt together. Ordinary people still hold a respectful heart toward elders, and as Daoists how could we be exempt? Making an elder kneel before us would shorten our lifespans.

Thus, when the elder knelt before us, Pangzi and I immediately knelt as well, and the three of us engaged in conversation from this strange yet equal angle.

"Great immortal, I beg you, please save my granddaughter; she's been entangled by those ghostly things until she's neither human nor ghost. I beg you, help us, help us." The elder tightly clutched Pangzi's collar, sobbing loudly as she pleaded.

Her hands were dry, covered with a thick callus, feeling rough to the touch. Besides the torn burlap bag she placed aside, a few plastic empty bottles could be vaguely seen inside. It's not hard to guess that this scavenger elder lives in poverty and has long been doing hard labor.

We all stood there stunned for a moment, unable to recover, yet the elder misunderstood our intention, thinking we didn't want to get involved, and continued crying and pleading: "I know you are people of the Dao; please, have mercy, have mercy!"

"Grandma, please get up and speak; we'll agree to whatever you say."

We hadn't spoken yet when Yao Yirong was the first to reply to the elder. If it were before, I might have glared at her fiercely, but this time I unexpectedly remained silent. Because anyone encountering this poor elder's plea would not think of refusing. Unless compelled, how could an elder with a frail body kneel on the ground and desperately beg?

Silijing, Yao Yirong, Pangzi, and I worked together to help the elder onto a nearby bench.

"My granddaughter, when she was born, everyone praised her beauty and intelligence; who would have known that starting five years ago, overnight she went mad." From the elder's lament, we finally roughly understood the whole story.

The elder's surname is Zhao, and she has a dependent granddaughter; the reason she knelt this time to beg Pangzi is precisely because of this unfortunate girl.

Her granddaughter has a very refined and cute name, Shishi; but this lovely girl, five years ago, encountered some strange things.

According to the elder's recollection, things came very suddenly; the previous evening, Shishi told the family that she saw a deceased elderly neighbor come to visit her, and that old man even wanted to take her away. At first everyone thought it was childish nonsense, or perhaps due to excessive innocence, that she truly saw the deceased neighbor next door. At that time, Grandma Zhao also brought some pomelo leaves to cleanse her of impurity and washed Shishi with them.

But the next morning, Shishi inexplicably went mad. Yes, a smart and clever little girl, just like that inexplicably went mad, running and jumping wildly all day, or remaining silent all day, or performing some strange actions.

Seeing this situation, Shishi's parents and Grandma Zhao became very anxious, even inviting a Daoist to examine Shishi. After the Daoist performed rituals, Shishi's body returned to normal, and her speech was no longer incoherent. At that point, the family's worried hearts finally eased, believing that whatever had been on Shishi had been driven away and would not recur.

However, contrary to everyone's expectations, not long after, Shishi reverted to her original state; after having someone look at her, she improved again, but not long after, she went mad again.

This recurring cycle left a five-year-old girl wavering between madness and sanity. Moreover, due to Shishi's condition, it nearly exhausted the Zhao family's savings. After all, hiring people to look at things requires incense and oil money; once or twice is fine, but if it continues year after year, for ordinary people it truly becomes an unimaginably huge expense.

Also because of Shishi's condition, her mother could not bear having a mad daughter, and after less than two years she remarried elsewhere, leaving only Shishi's father and Grandma Zhao living together.

It must be said that Shishi's father and Grandma Zhao are truly great; if they were replaced by heartless parents, they would have abandoned the child in some unknown corner, letting him self-destruct. But they did not; they not only endured living year after year with a madman, but also toiled everywhere to earn money, hoping to cure the child's illness.

Thus, Shishi's father worked at a construction site by day and waited tables at restaurants by night. Due to overwork, not long after he passed away, leaving the poor elder Grandma Zhao and Shishi dependent on each other.

Even though only Grandma Zhao remained as the elderly person capable of caring for Shishi, she did not give up. To care for Shishi well and to save money for her treatment, Grandma Zhao dragged her aging body everywhere looking for work, hoping to provide food for the child, and any surplus money she saved went toward the child's medical expenses.

But what work can an elderly person do? Who would hire her? With no other recourse, Grandma Zhao had to take a large burlap bag, picking up discarded mineral water bottles and paper scraps on the streets by day, and by night pushing a small food cart selling porridge and side dishes on busy streets, relying on these two to make a living.

Sometimes, even in torrential rain, Grandma Zhao still had to drag her rheumatic legs, wearing a straw hat, holding a hook, searching the streets for discarded trash. In scorching heat, this lonely elder risked heatstroke, stooping, enduring others' strange glances, head down, running into restaurants to pick up leftover beer bottles.

A beer bottle sells for three fen each, a hundred for three yuan. A beer bottle's weight isn't heavy, but what about a hundred stacked? Young people still find it heavy; for an elder, it's a weight that even life cannot bear.

Moreover, Grandma Zhao is occasionally driven away mercilessly and indifferently by restaurant owners; even a beer bottle worth three fen, ordinary people are unwilling to give her alms.

At night, Grandma Zhao would push her porridge cart onto the street in the wee hours to hawk her wares; sometimes she would encounter thugs' bullying. When the urban management arrived, she had to, like those young people, drag her aged, crippled body and act as a decoy.

"My poor son fell ill in bed with a fever of forty degrees, only taking herbal medicine, refusing to go to the hospital for a doctor. He said hospital medicine is expensive, wanting to save money for Shishi's treatment; his body grew weak, yet he gritted his teeth and went to work at the construction site, finally falling from the third floor and dying. That unscrupulous boss wouldn't pay us a cent, even shifting blame, saying my son wasn't his worker."

While the elder was telling us the whole story, she also remembered her unfortunate son, and sorrow welled up; with her dry hands she wiped away several tears.

Not only did she cry, but we as onlookers also cried; Yao Yirong even sobbed softly, grabbing my shoulder and biting down hard.

A lonely elder, in this fiercely competitive society, dragging her aged and diseased body, labors day after day, year after year caring for her mad granddaughter. Although we are not part of this story, we all clearly see that the story contains hardships we cannot even imagine. For the sake of her granddaughter, this white-haired elder, in her final years, discarded all dignity, bowed her head beneath the indifferent gazes of many.

A solitary elderly person, in this fiercely competitive society, dragging an aged and infirm body, labored day after day, year after year caring for a mad granddaughter. Although none of us are in this story, we all know that within it lie hardships we could never imagine even if we were beaten to death. For the sake of the granddaughter, this white‑haired elder, in the final moments of others' lives, abandoned all dignity, bowed their head beneath the merciless, indifferent gazes of many.