Chapter 40 The Devil's Whispers

Zhou Xiaoming got off the bus, looking dejected.

A wave of heat hit me.

This calmed him down considerably.

The hallucinations he had just experienced on the bus felt like a dream to him.

That feeling was so real.

When he finally realized what had happened, he felt a wave of fear wash over him.

Fortunately, it was just his imagination.

If that's true, he might actually become a murderer.

He didn't understand why he had become like this.

Could it be, as Dr. Luo said, that he has developed mental problems?

"Take medicine... Yes, I need to take medicine. The doctor said I need to take more medicine to get better."

As if grasping at a straw, Zhou Xiaoming quickly opened the bag, took out a bunch of medicine bottles, poured them together, and shoved them into his mouth to swallow.

After swallowing the pill, he felt a strong wave of nausea.

He was made to squat by the roadside and dry heave for a while.

The medicinal taste lingered in my mouth for a long time.

He quickly ran to the convenience store next door, bought a bottle of mineral water, and drank half of it in one go, which made him feel a little better.

Zhou Xiaoming didn't know how he got home. He only felt dizzy and sleepy after taking the medicine.

Until the familiar gate appeared before me.

As soon as I opened the door, a pungent smell of smoke hit me.

In the living room, Zhou Yong, the father, was playing mahjong with several friends. The room was filled with smoke and noise.

Upon seeing Zhou Xiaoming enter, Zhou Yong's face showed a look of disgust: "Your teacher called me today and said you're sick?"

"Hmm." Zhou Xiaoming nodded somewhat numbly.

Zhou Yong frowned and said impatiently, "It's just a minor ailment, why go to the hospital? It's not a serious illness. Go pay back the money yourself; I don't have that kind of spare cash!"

"But that was money that Teacher Xu paid in advance, so it should be returned to him."

Zhou Xiaoming looked at Zhou Yong with some fear.

He knew his father's character.

A seasoned gambler.

He's frugal with his food and clothes, but he can easily spend hundreds of dollars on a single game of mahjong without batting an eye. Trying to squeeze money out of him is practically impossible.

The money he spent on his medical treatment was not a small amount, and he really didn't know how to face his teacher if he didn't return it.

Zhou Yong slammed his fist on the table: "What the hell? Damn it, doesn't the school have a medical clinic? I think he deliberately tricked you into going to the hospital so he could make a kickback. He has no money, but you can take my life."

Zhou Xiaoming was immediately startled and shuddered.

A surge of anger welled up inside me.

He roared angrily, "Then you fucking make money playing cards."

Zhou Yong was taken aback.

He looked at Zhou Xiaoming with a gloomy expression.

Suddenly, a slap came flying at me.

"How dare you talk to me like that? You've gone too far!"

Zhou Xiaoming was knocked to the ground.

The burning pain on his face contorted his features. He stood up and forcefully flipped the mahjong table over, scattering the mahjong tiles all over the floor.

Zhou Xiaoming gritted his teeth and clenched his fists: "You don't deserve to be my father at all! All you care about is gambling! My mother left because she couldn't stand you! I've had enough."

Zhou Yong's face instantly turned ashen, and he raised his hand to slap him again: "Shut the hell up!"

Seeing this, the other card players nearby all stood up to try and break up the fight.

Old Li grabbed Zhou Yong's arm: "Yong, don't get agitated. The child is still young. Let's talk things out."

"That's right, Xiaoming, you should say less and stop talking back to your dad."

Zhou Yong shook off Lao Li's hand: "Don't mind him! I'll beat him to death today, or he'll really think I can't handle him!"

As he spoke, Zhou Yong grabbed Zhou Xiaoming by the collar and punched him in the face.

Zhou Xiaoming's mind went blank for a moment, then he felt a warm sensation in his nose, and two streams of blood gushed out from his nose instantly.

"I'll beat you to death today, you bastard."

Zhou Yong cursed as he kicked Zhou Xiaoming.

Zhou Xiaoming could only cower in the corner, letting Zhou Yong punch and kick him. He wanted to fight back, but he was no match for a middle-aged man.

Gradually, his consciousness began to blur.

"What the hell? Damn it, doesn't the school have a clinic? I think he deliberately tricked you into going to the hospital so he could make a quick buck. He has no money, but you can take my life if you want."

A furious roar rang in my ears.

The scene changes.

Zhou Xiaoming suddenly came to his senses.

He looked at Zhou Yong in front of him, then at the perfectly intact mahjong table. Everything that had just happened seemed like a dream.

It was just another hallucination.

"I'm going to sleep."

Zhou Xiaoming silently left those words behind and went into his room.

Zhou Yong snorted coldly, picked up a lighter from the side, lit a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and continued playing cards, completely ignoring his son's illness.

As for what disease he has and how much the treatment will cost.

He didn't care.

He was more concerned about the hand of cards he held.

"Ah Yong, I heard your son's grades are pretty good. Which university is he planning to apply to?" asked his mahjong partner, Lao Li.

“What’s the point of going to university? What good is studying? He’s still a money pit. If you ask me, he shouldn’t have gone to junior high. He should be working instead of staying at home eating and living off others,” Zhou Yong said disdainfully, exhaling a smoke ring.

“I agree with you. Look at all the college graduates these days, what can they do? They still end up working for others. My son went to work in a factory right after graduating from junior high school, and now he’s a junior manager, making 10,000 yuan a month,” card player A Biao chimed in.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yong was filled with even more regret: "If I had known, I shouldn't have let him continue in junior high school. Now look what's happened. He comes back and doesn't say a word. He just stands there like a block of wood. He's become stupid from studying."

Zhou Xiaoming was very sleepy, extremely sleepy.

I fell asleep almost as soon as I lay down on the bed.

But the sound of mahjong tiles outside kept him awake. He buried his head under the covers, trying to block out the noise, but the sounds seemed to come from inside the walls, from the ground, and from the ceiling.

They're everywhere, in all directions.

"What's the point of going to university and reading so many books? You're still just a money pit..."

“My son went to work in a factory right after graduating from junior high school, and now he’s a junior supervisor…”

"...I can earn ten thousand yuan a month..."

These voices whispered in the shadows of a dark corner, hissing like venomous snakes, engulfing him like a tidal wave, as if the whole world were spinning.

"Shut up...all of you shut up..."

Zhou Xiaoming angrily grabbed a pillow and threw it against the wall.

However, the pillow hitting the wall with a dull thud did not stop the noise.

Instead, the sounds became even more piercing and unrestrained, like countless demons mocking him in his ears.