Chapter 22: Douluo

It was dusk again, and the final school bell echoed across the campus.

Han Letian, who had only returned to school today after several days of sick leave, let out a yawn and slumped over his desk, sighing with a listless expression.

"What’s wrong with you?" Li Sheng stretched, stood up, and began packing his bag.

"I’m so sleepy." Han Letian kept his head buried, his voice muffled as he replied, "That fever reducer from Gen-Sys Biotech—it works, all right, but the side effect is that it makes you incredibly drowsy."

Gen-Sys Biotech, established four years ago through the joint investment of over a dozen multinational pharmaceutical giants (including Pfizer, Novartis, Roche, and Johnson & Johnson), spans fields ranging from pharmaceuticals and medical devices to diagnostic products, agriculture, and genetically modified foods. It is the most technologically advanced pharmaceutical company in the world. People often compare it to the Umbrella Corporation from *Resident Evil*.

Of course, Gen-Sys Biotech is far more powerful than the Umbrella Corporation.

The latter would eventually face bankruptcy and liquidation due to American sanctions and blockades, whereas the former is a global monopoly interest group that has long since parasitized every corner of the American elite, holding influence within both the Democratic and Republican parties.

"Is that your excuse for sleeping through math class?" Mu Yulu, sitting in the row in front of Li Sheng, overheard their conversation. As she packed her bag, she retorted, "Even I could hear your snoring from here. Don't tell me you were up all night reading novels and comics again?"

"Ahem, you caught me." Han Letian dropped the act. "It’s too boring lying around at home, so I just reread some old novels. You really have to say, a classic is a classic. But it’s a pity that while flowers may bloom again, a person never returns to their youth. An author’s life experience and personal circumstances at different stages create different mindsets. Once you move past that mindset, you can never replicate the same work. Just like Jiang Nan, who achieved success and can no longer write the youthful passion of *Dragon Raja*; or Meng Ru Shen Ji, who became obsessed with martial arts and can no longer capture the raw, angry intensity of *Dragon Snake Yanyi*; or the fame-and-fortune-seeking Tang Jia San Shao... wait, actually, he really can!"

Han Letian suddenly perked up, slapping his palm as he began counting off titles: from *Soul Land* to *Soul Land II: The Unrivaled Tang Sect*, *Soul Land III: Legend of the Dragon King*, *Soul Land IV: Ultimate Fighting*, *Soul Land V: Rebirth of Tang San*, as well as the side stories *Legend of the God Realm*, *Tang Sect Heroes*, and *Soul Land World*...

"To be able to rattle off so many works like you know them by heart—are you actually a fan who’s just deep in denial?" Mu Yulu, whose ears were numb from hearing the words "Soul Land," rubbed her temples in frustration and couldn't help but snap back.

"Hahaha, how could that be? I’m not interested in people made of hydrogen." Han Letian waved his hand and packed his bag. The three of them left the classroom. Before leaving, they ruffled the hair of Yang Ling, the daughter of their homeroom teacher who sat at the "right protector" seat by the podium, and said goodbye.

Yang Ling had just started elementary school this year; she was carved from jade and exceptionally cute. When she was in a good mood, she would politely say goodbye to the older students, but when she was in a bad mood, she would bristle like a kitten and refuse to let anyone touch her head.

"Goodbye, Brother Han, Brother Li, Sister Mu."

Well, it seemed she was in a good mood today.

The three walked out of the campus together. Han Letian’s mother was waiting outside in an Audi to take him home.

Han Letian climbed into the car and asked casually, "Where’s Dad?"

"Your dad went out fishing this afternoon and hasn't come back yet." Han’s mother, who looked quite young and dressed in a trendy style, sounded rather annoyed. "He promised to take me to a movie today. He’d better make it back in time."

Han Letian said speechlessly, "Mom, I just recovered from being sick. Can you two really bear to abandon me for a movie?"

Han’s mother replied nonchalantly, "Isn't your fever gone? That counts as recovered. Sigh, you weren't this delicate when you were little. No matter what kind of cold or fever you had, you’d just drink some cough syrup and sleep like a log."

"...Was that sleeping like a log? I’m pretty sure I was just drugged into a stupor. I’m starting to wonder if I was even born to you guys." Han Letian wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. Some cough syrups contained sedatives and tranquilizers, which easily caused drowsiness and dizziness.

"You’re only just starting to wonder? Actually, we’ve been wondering for a long time." Han’s mother rubbed her chin, putting on a wise, thoughtful expression. "After all, looking at your attribute panel, you didn't inherit your father’s 'Glutton,' 'Thick Fat,' or 'Grit' traits, nor my 'Charming Body' or 'Super Luck' traits."

"What the hell are traits?" Han Letian felt a vein throb on his forehead. "Are we all Pokémon or something?!"

Ignoring her son’s retort, Han’s mother turned to Li Sheng and Mu Yulu. "By the way, Xiao Sheng, Xiao Lu, do you two want a ride? I can drop you off."

"No, no, we have to head to the hospital. It’s not far, we don't want to trouble you."

Li Sheng and Mu Yulu politely declined. After watching the Audi drive away, the two shared a look, sighed with heavy hearts, and cycled toward the Yin City Sixth People’s Hospital.

Han Letian’s mother was a fashion designer and his father was a software architect. In their youth, they were both veteran otaku, well-versed in light novels, anime, animations, galgames, AVGs, and visual novels—the Brahmins of the ACG world. Even now, with money and time to spare and remarkably youthful spirits, they often attended conventions across the country. Their lifelong dream was for the brain-interface technology from Prometheus Labs to hit the market so they could continue their adventures in a virtual world.

In a sense, they were enviable parents. At the very least, their home environment was much healthier than that of Li Sheng and Mu Yulu. Mu Yulu’s mother suffered from heart disease and was hospitalized year-round, requiring her daughter to care for her. As for Li Sheng, besides visiting Mu Yulu’s mother, he also had to visit Auntie Zhao from the Zhao Family Bakery, where he used to work part-time.

---

The airport has witnessed more sincere kisses than wedding halls, and hospital walls have heard more prayers than churches.

After finishing his visit, Li Sheng walked downstairs and sat on a bench in the hospital’s garden area. Gazing at the bright moon in the night sky, he inexplicably thought of this quote.

He didn't actually like coming to the hospital. It wasn't about the faint, lingering smell of disinfectant in the air, but rather... certain examples he’d seen.

Children surrounding an elderly parent in a hospital bed, constantly arguing over who paid less, who did less work, and who would get more of the inheritance; a middle-aged factory worker with lung disease lying in a bed while his family negotiated a compensation price with the factory owner outside the room, deciding to abandon him; parents pushing the already cold body of their child into the hospital to demand that doctors perform resuscitation, all to claim a bit of insurance money.

Li Sheng didn't consider himself a merciful or kind saint, but sometimes he wondered how wonderful it would be if there were a panacea in this world that could cure all diseases and dissolve all suffering.

"Excuse me."

Uncle Zhao, wearing a baseball cap, sat down next to Li Sheng. His face had grown gaunt, his exhaustion impossible to hide. He held a pack of cheap cigarettes, but just as he was about to pull one out, he remembered something and put it back.

"Urban redevelopment is so fast these days. I went to check on the bakery yesterday, and in just those few days, it had already been demolished." He sighed, "It took nearly three months to buy the equipment, handle the paperwork, and finish the renovations. Thinking about it now, it feels like a lifetime ago."

Perhaps as people age, they grow fond of reminiscing.

Uncle Zhao rambled on about the past—how he and his wife met, how they established a foothold in Yin City, and the joy and anxiety they felt after having a child. The story of a life is neither too short nor too long; the cheap cigarette pack was crumpled in his hands, and the story reached its end.

Li Sheng, who had been listening quietly and offering an occasional nod, remained silent for a moment before saying softly, "Uncle Zhao, you didn't used to wear a hat."

"...You noticed?"

Uncle Zhao smiled bitterly and took off his baseball cap. His once-thick hair was now exceptionally sparse, and there were several spots scattered across his sallow scalp.

"And here," he said, rolling up his right sleeve to reveal a patch of red rashes on his arm.

Li Sheng hesitated. "This is..."

"The doctor said your aunt’s cancer is very tricky; cutting out half her liver wasn't enough to cure it. The best medical option is a gene therapy from Gen-Sys Biotech. Four courses of treatment, hundreds of thousands per course." Uncle Zhao said calmly, "I tried everything to scrape together the money, but it still wasn't enough, so I signed up for the company’s experimental drug trials."

"They pay ten thousand for every injection. If the side effects are severe, they give thirty thousand. After five injections, the pay increases for every subsequent one."

A breeze blew past, causing his sparse hair to flutter like tumbleweed in a Western film.

"..."

Li Sheng remained silent for a long time before saying hoarsely, "...I thought human trials like this only happened in India."

"Haha, people from different regions have different genes. If Gen-Sys wants to develop special drugs for the domestic market, they have to find domestic test subjects, right?" Uncle Zhao gave a small laugh. "Besides, I happen to have a rare blood type, so they pay me more than the others."

If a "model of morality" or a "social elite" were standing here, they would certainly condemn Uncle Zhao’s ignorance. Was an experimental medical procedure with unknown risks something a person with a sound mind should undergo? Heaven knows what’s in those vials the big corporations provide.

What if in ten or twenty years, the side effects suddenly manifest? What if dementia, strokes, or paralysis all strike at once? The meager money he was getting now wouldn't even cover the medical bills then. If he tried to sue for compensation, the terms in the contracts provided by the big corporations would have already sealed off every possibility.

Li Sheng opened his mouth several times, but ultimately said nothing. There is only one disease in this world: the disease of poverty.

Uncle Zhao patted Li Sheng on the shoulder, put his hat back on, and headed upstairs.