Chapter 2055: 1984: Hands Stained with Blood in Memory

The people in the room instantly dispersed.

Dahungya stood on the ground, seeing a dozen or so tiny bugs flying around him, with countless more invisible, and he had fallen into a dazed state.

Is this my retribution?

Dahungya suddenly recalled many things; the more he thought, the more frightened he became. All the wild tales he'd bragged about while drinking flooded back into his mind.

I'm surely going to die, and a horrible death at that!

Dahungya imagined that soon his body would be covered with bugs, gnawing violently and madly from inside out…

The bugs were small, buzzing as they flew. Who knows, maybe bigger ones would later poke their heads out of his mouth.

Just thinking about it terrified him to death.

Better to end it myself than let the bugs devour my viscera!

Dahungya lowered his head, saw a black speck on the tissue fly up again… He panicked and flung the tissue far away.

Maybe this would help a little, Dahungya wanted to cry but had no tears. Though far off, he clearly saw a tiny black bug rise from the yellow phlegm. At first it seemed awkward, but soon it flew faster and faster.

Dahungya felt fear in his heart, wanted to walk, but his legs trembled so badly he couldn't take a step.

Just moments ago the room was full of people; now only I remain.

Bullshit martial brotherhood, all nonsense.

Dahungya was utterly despondent, his legs shaking violently; he held back his urge to urinate, preserving the last shred of dignity.

He squeezed his legs together, struggled toward the window, and opened it.

May, the night in Northern Province was still a bit chilly. Especially since the hotel was on a high floor, a cold draft blew in, making Dahungya shiver.

He leaned out to look down, and a chill rose in his heart.

I recall once taking a job when the family of a terminal cancer patient came to me.

It was late-stage cancer; all hospitals had declared it untreatable, and the patient was preparing to go home to die.

What else could be done?

In the eyes of the person seeking him, Dahungya saw hidden greed; he advised taking the patient to a certain hospital for consultation, then, holding the diagnosis, jump from the outpatient building's sixth-floor escalator.

The patient was truly stubborn, or perhaps already utterly hopeless.

Dahungya didn't hold much hope either.

If he really jumped, he'd extort a sum from the hospital; if not, he'd squeeze every drop of oil from this family's bones.

But I never expected the patient to actually jump, landing five meters in front of me, his brains splattering all over me.

What was I thinking back then? Dahungya hazily recalled.

It seemed I hadn't thought of anything; back then I was excited and happy, waving my hand as my ready brothers rushed forward to guard the scene.

Those who should take photos did so; those who should contact media and self-media hurried to do so.

The media still had a bit of scruple, mindful of impact; but self-media were all crazy for money, constantly hoping for a big scandal.

They eagerly reprinted this, fanning the flames.

In the end the hospital would surely demand they pull the news; without thirty or fifty thousand it's impossible, and this was still an obscure little self-media outlet. As for those with traffic, each nose in the air, they'd need a hundred or two hundred thousand.

It was a feast, a banquet of feasting on blood atop corpses.

Dahungya had little memory of the deceased, but he could clearly recall that final pose.

Especially the diagnosis clutched in the dead man's hand, which now comes to mind with perfect clarity.

At that time many footsteps shuffled around the corpse, as if they were perched on him sucking the last drop of blood… MD! Just then a black tiny bug flew past Dahungya's eyes.

His death was truly gruesome, but the more horrible it was, the happier Dahungya felt.

That time, all the brothers rallied, wearing mourning clothes, kneeling on the first floor of the outpatient department, and they forced the corpse to stay in the outpatient hall for three days.

And me? I was probably sitting with legs crossed on the medical department's sofa, not in a hurry, leisurely sipping tea.

One price: 1.5 million!

Dahungya recalled how, when the hospital's medical department staff heard that price, their eyes bulged like steamed buns.

Not in a hurry—why should I rush about this?

During the dog days, it started to smell in less than a day, and began leaking yellow fluid in two days. With such massive public and social pressure, I didn't believe they could endure.

Each day I added another two hundred thousand, and Dahungya happily watched the hospital scramble.

They're all a bunch of black-hearted doctors!

Even treating a cold costs hundreds or thousands!

Dahungya felt he was carrying out heaven's will, and of course, while doing so he also had to pocket this money himself.

The patient's family gritted their back teeth demanding fifty thousand, never expecting I'd dare ask for so much.

A bunch of idiots!

Dahungya stood at the window, awakened by a cold draft.

He seemed to see that diagnosis, smeared with brains and blood, appear before his eyes in midair.

Will I also end up like that?

Three days later the hospital gave in, paying out 2 million!

This incident established Dahungya's standing in the medical disturbance world.

Holding the money, watching the family carry away the corpse crawling with maggots and flies, Dahungya swelled with pride.

But… now I too am about to be covered in flies!

He truly wished to leap, then he'd have no more worries.

But he lacked the courage.

Outside it was pitch black; just thinking about being dashed to pieces made Dahungya's courage falter.

What to do? What could be done!

His legs went limp, he stiffly collapsed sideways onto the ground, leaning against the wall, his mind a mush.

In dire straits, even the words Xiao Liu had spoken when he left echoed in Dahungya's mind.

Chief Zheng?

Chief Zheng!

Dahungya instantly sobered up.

His current appearance was exactly like that of the woman who had sat in the Fire Escape a couple days earlier.

Except his guts were still a bit bigger; he hadn't been frightened enough to wet his pants.

Dahungya consoled himself, regaining the last shred of his dignity.

Yes, go find Chief Zheng!

912, easy to find. He felt as if he had found a glimmer of hope in the darkness, saw a ray of light.

He struggled to calm his emotions, rose from the ground, and staggered out.

Damn brothers, when trouble comes, who would stay by my side?!

Dahungya saw no one around, his heart filled with boundless sorrow.

He walked out the door; at a distant stairwell corner, a head poked out halfway. Seeing him come out, that person startled and quickly pulled his head back.

Dahungya was disheartened and in pain.

Before, he could still lie to himself, saying that even if he went in, his brothers would take care of his wife and children.

Looking at this situation, damn it!

Who said righteousness appears when the dog‑butchers show up?!

All nonsense.

When trouble strikes, he runs faster than anyone.

He took the elevator down, together with other people who had come to eat.

Seeing small worms occasionally crawling out of their noses and mouths, they were frightened and turned to run. Even a middle‑aged man who had drunk too much was so scared his eyes rolled back, not knowing if he was alive or dead.

Dahungya gave a bitter smile, constantly chanting Chief Zheng's name in his heart—this was his only hope.

He got into the car, Dahungya trembled as he turned the ignition.

Once, twice, three times, he got the engine running; in the night shrouding Sheng Cheng, he drove the car into darkness.