Chapter Eighty-Seven Spirit

The county government's fast horse trod across the wet stone road, the clatter of its hooves growing louder as it approached.

The yamen runners immediately raised their voices high and shouted all the way.

"The floodwaters have receded, the floodwaters have receded in all the villages! The roads are open, we can go home! The county magistrate has ordered that the charity halls will stop serving meals the day after tomorrow, and the disaster victims in each village should pack their belongings and those who can walk should return home one after another! Those who are sick can stay in the charity halls until they recover!"

"The floodwaters have receded! We can go back now!"

The charity hall erupted in chaos.

Some people held their babies, tears streaming down their faces; some gripped the hands of their neighbors, their nails digging into their flesh; and some sat like wooden figures on their straw mats, mouths agape, not coming to their senses for a long time.

The people of Zhuohe Village naturally heard it too.

Old Xiong and Zhang Dahe had just returned from clearing the road outside the city, still covered in mud. When they heard the shout, they looked at each other, and a smile appeared in their bloodshot eyes.

Inside the shop, several women seemed to have been bewitched.

Song's voice cracked: "Quick, quick, pack up! My God, we can finally go back! Sleeping in this shop... my old back is about to break!"

Aunt Wang became much more nimble, which showed how frustrated she was, as she rolled up her bedding.

"Absolutely! Yangyang and Dazhuang must be feeling terribly stifled under the shed!"

He didn't say a word, but his hands were much more nimble.

She deftly removed the curtains used for partitions, folded them neatly, and gathered the scattered pots and pans into a pile.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Xiong Zixiang helping his uncle Zhang Dahe, struggling to move the grain and miscellaneous items piled up on the first floor onto a cart outside.

Xiong Zixiang was the last in the family to know the news.

He had just finished patrolling the streets with Zhao Delu and Qian San'er, and had separated a few villagers who were arguing and fighting. He didn't hear the yamen runners shouting anything at all.

Back at the shop entrance, I could hear the sounds of things being packed up and chattering inside.

"The floodwaters have receded?"

He stepped through the door, his face relaxing; the tension he had been holding back finally eased.

He casually took the heavy bundle of oilcloth handed to him, weighed it in his hand, and turned to walk towards the cart outside.

"They've withdrawn. The yamen runners just shouted that they'd be leaving tomorrow!"

He looked unusually relaxed, and his voice was clear: "Quickly lend a hand and get this grain out of here. Dad and Uncle are loading it onto the truck."

Xiong Zixiang grunted in agreement, then with a shrug, he steadily hoisted the bundle of oilcloth onto his shoulder and strode out.

The sun peeked through the clouds, shining warmly on his back, seemingly melting away much of his fatigue from the past few days.

Just as he bent down to put the oilcloth onto the cart, his vision blurred and the stone slabs beneath his feet seemed to sway.

He instinctively braced himself against the cart shaft to steady himself.

"Brother Zixiang?" Xiaozhi followed him out carrying a bundle. Seeing him leaning against the cart shaft, not moving and looking unwell, she asked, "What's wrong? Are you tired?"

Xiong Zixiang shook his head, as if to say, "It's nothing."

But his throat was so dry it felt like it was on fire, and he could only manage to squeeze out a muffled syllable.

He tried hard to stand up straight, but his head felt heavy and he felt dizzy.

My heart skipped a beat. I dropped my bag and rushed over to him, raising my hand to press it against his forehead.

The skin my fingertips touched was terribly hot!

"Ouch!" Xiaoshi's heart tightened, and her voice changed: "Why is it so hot!"

Xiong Zixiang himself also felt it; a chill was seeping out from between his bones, and a high fever was rising rapidly.

He forced a smile, trying to comfort her: "No...it's nothing, maybe I'm just...exhausted..."

Before he could finish speaking, a sudden dizzying sensation struck him, and everything went black. His tall body swayed twice, and he looked like he was about to lose his balance.

"Brother Zixiang!" Xiaoyu quickly grabbed him, her voice panicked, "Don't move around, you have a fever!"

Zhang Dashan and Old Man Xiong also came over upon hearing the noise.

Upon seeing Xiong Zixiang's flushed face and unsteady gait, Zhang Dashan immediately took one of his arms without saying a word.

"Why are you even moving anything? Go back inside and lie down!"

Old Man Xiong was also anxious: "This child won't listen to me, I told him to rest a little longer. Even a body of iron can't withstand this kind of strain. Quick, help him up!"

The crowd helped Xiong Zixiang up to the third floor and settled him on a straw-stacked bed.

She quickly and swiftly laid out the bedding, then hurriedly fetched a basin of cold water.

Xiong Zixiang lay there listlessly, feeling a throbbing pain in his head.

My head feels heavy and my eyelids are too heavy to lift.

He could hear his family's anxious chatter and footsteps all around him. He wanted to say something, but he didn't even have the strength to open his mouth.

With this sudden release of his pent-up emotions, the illness, which he had been holding on for many days, suddenly overwhelmed him like a burst dam.

She carefully wrung out a damp, cold cloth and placed it on his burning forehead.

The icy touch made him tremble slightly, and his muddled consciousness seemed to clear for a moment.

He struggled to open his eyes and saw a face so close to his, those gentle eyes now filled with heartache and worry.

“I…I’m fine…” he said in a hoarse voice, trying to reassure her.

"Shut up!" Xiao Yi rarely snapped at him, her eyes even a little red.

She tucked the blanket around him, her fingers unconsciously brushing against his dry, chapped lips, which were chapped from the high fever: "You're so hot you could burn a coal, and you still say you're fine?"

Downstairs, Zhang Dashan and the others were packing their things much quieter. Zhang Liuji hurriedly went upstairs to take a look and saw that Xiong Zixiang had a high fever and his brows were furrowed.

"I'll go to the charity hall to ask Doctor Li if he has any prescriptions for reducing fever, and I'll also ask Zixiang for leave."

"Thank you for your help, Brother Liu." She nodded gratefully.

Zhang Liuji responded and strode downstairs.

The only sounds left in the shop were the softest rustling as people packed things up.

Zhang Dahe and Old Man Xiong silently carried the remaining grain and miscellaneous items onto the cart, their movements as gentle as could be.

Song and Aunt Wang helped Li Xiulan and Xiong Zijuan organize their valuables, even walking on tiptoe.

Everyone was on tenterhooks upstairs, afraid of disturbing the sick person.

She carefully stayed by the bedside, changing the wet towel on Xiong Zixiang's forehead again and again.

The cloth was icy cold when it was first applied, but it was warmed up by the heat from his forehead in no time.

Her heart ached with a bittersweet feeling. These past few days, he had been the pillar of the community, protecting the peace and tranquility of the streets.

All the little things from the past have now turned into a deep sorrow in my heart.

Time passed slowly, and every moment seemed exceptionally long.

I noticed that I would occasionally reach out and touch his forehead, and the burning temperature showed no signs of abating; in fact, it seemed to be getting even hotter.

She was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, but dared not show it on her face. She could only wring out the cloth again and again, silently praying in her heart: Brother Liu, come back soon...

Finally, familiar footsteps came from the stairwell.

Zhang Liuji returned, carrying a small paper package and a small piece of white radish.

"Dr. Li said that all the herbs for dispelling wind and cold in the pharmacy were reserved for the emergency cases at the charity hall. The storeroom was turned upside down, and only this one dose of fever-reducing medicine was found. Zixiang is usually healthy, but this illness is probably serious. We'll use it for now, and if it doesn't work, we'll find some more from there."

Zhang Liuji handed the paper package to Xiaoyi, saying, "This radish is a medicinal ingredient. Boil it with the medicine and drink it. It can also induce sweating, and you'll feel better after sweating."

Notice how his fingertips trembled slightly as he took the medicine packet and the radish.

Is this all the medicine you need?

She thanked him repeatedly, but felt uneasy inside.

She didn't dare to delay. She asked Brother Ji to watch over Xiong Zixiang, and then immediately went downstairs to wash the radish and cut it into thin slices for later use.

Then I found a small sand pot and carefully scrubbed it clean.

She opened the small paper package, which contained several herbs that she didn't recognize. Following Zhang Liuji's instructions, she put the herbs and radish slices into a clay pot, added an appropriate amount of water, covered it, and placed it on the stove.

The fire in the stove should not be too strong; it should be simmered over a low flame.

Xiaoshi moved a small stool and sat in front of the stove, his eyes fixed on the wisps of white steam rising from the edge of the clay pot lid.

The smell of medicine gradually filled the air, and my heart was pounding with anxiety.

The person upstairs has such a high fever, this only dose of medicine must work!

Time slipped by in agony, and I carefully guarded that jar of medicine as if it were a lifeline.

She dared not leave for even a moment, for fear that the heat would be too high or the medicine would boil dry.

Occasionally, when she heard some noise from Xiong Zixiang upstairs, her heart would clench.

After an unknown amount of time, the medicine was finally ready.

She poured another half bowl of warm water, and carrying the medicine bowl and the water bowl, she steadily walked upstairs step by step.

Xiong Zixiang opened his eyes groggily and saw Xiao Xin sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl in her hand, the dim light of the oil lamp illuminating her worried face.

"Here, drink your medicine."

Carefully help him sit up slightly, letting his head rest on your shoulder.

Xiong Zixiang smelled the strong medicinal odor, his brows furrowed even more, but he still obediently opened his mouth.

Carefully scoop up a spoonful of the scalding hot medicine with a small spoon, gently blow on it before carefully feeding it into his mouth.

The bitter medicine instantly filled his mouth, and Xiong Zixiang instinctively wanted to resist it.

She gently coaxed him, "Bear with it, you need to drink it to bring down the fever." She then fed him a sip of warm water to rinse his mouth.

He swallowed the medicine with difficulty, being carefully and patiently fed it spoonful by spoonful.

The medicine took effect quickly, and Xiong Zixiang soon broke out in a sweat.

She carefully wiped his sweaty forehead with a cloth.

"Take a nap, you'll feel better after you sweat it out."

She carefully tucked him in, speaking in a very soft and gentle voice: "We'll take care of things at the shop, so you can rest easy and not think about anything."

Xiong Zixiang nodded weakly, his eyelids too heavy to keep open any longer, and he fell into a deep sleep with gentle patting.

Downstairs, the commotion from the cleaning finally subsided completely.

Zhang Dashan and Old Man Xiong finished loading the car and took a break.

Li Xiulan cooked some thin porridge and served a bowl to Liu Xin to tide him over.

The night was deep, and occasionally a few insects chirped outside the window.

Xiao Xin remained by the bedside, listening to Xiong Zixiang's breathing gradually calm down, and occasionally reaching out to touch his forehead.

Her heart, which had been hanging in suspense, gradually settled back down as her breathing became calmer.

The road home is in sight, and her only wish at this moment is for the person beside her to get better soon.