Chapter 43 Control Group: If she had money...
Lin Rong, her hands trembling, pulled a neatly folded notebook from her bosom, carefully unfolded it, and handed it to Chu Yanxi. Several lines of writing were neatly done on the paper in ballpoint pen:
"I owe my benefactors Chu Yanxi and Lu Zhe RMB 26,000 (twenty-six thousand yuan) for my son Lin Xiaobin's medical expenses. I will do my best to repay this debt, and the repayment date is [date to be filled in]. This is hereby written as proof."
Below is her signature, the date, and a clear handprint pressed in red ink.
"Leader Chu, Teacher Lu," Lin Rong's eyes were still red and swollen, but her gaze held a stubborn persistence and dignity unique to working-class women, "This money is life-saving money. I, Lin Rong, will remember it in my heart and be grateful for the rest of my life. But you don't earn money easily either, so I can't take this money for nothing. Please keep the IOU. Don't worry, I, Lin Rong, am a person of principle. No matter whether Xiao Bin's illness can be cured or not, as long as I have a breath left, I will definitely repay this money! I will sell everything I own and work like a slave to repay it!"
Chu Yanxi looked at the thin IOU and was filled with mixed emotions.
She has seen all sorts of people. In dire straits, some break down, some become twisted, and some, like Lin Rong, struggle to maintain their basic dignity and self-respect even when cornered—not wanting to accept favors for nothing. This strong will is perhaps one of the driving forces that has sustained her to this point.
Chu Yanxi did not refuse. She solemnly accepted the IOU with both hands, carefully folded it, and put it into her pocket: "Sister Lin, I accept the IOU. We understand your intentions. But don't think about anything else now. Focus on taking good care of Xiaobin and cooperating with the treatment. We will find a way to cover the subsequent treatment costs."
Lu Zhe also said gently, "Yes, Sister Lin, your most important task now is to take good care of yourself and be Xiao Bin's support. As for the rest, we are here, and there are more and more kind-hearted people in society. The reporter will come tomorrow, and corporate donations will be transferred to the community account as soon as possible, specifically for Xiao Bin's treatment expenses. Don't worry, everything will be alright."
Lin Rong's lips trembled, and she wanted to thank him again, but Chu Yanxi gently pressed her shoulder: "Don't say anything, Sister Lin. Go and keep Xiao Bin company. He'll be worried if he wakes up and can't see you."
Watching Lin Rong wipe away her tears and walk back to the ward with a more steady gait than before, Chu Yanxi and Lu Zhe exchanged a glance and silently turned and left the inpatient building.
Stepping out of the hospital, the afternoon sun was a bit dazzling, and the hustle and bustle of traffic rushed towards them, but it couldn't dispel the heaviness and confusion in their hearts. Instead of immediately planning their next fundraising or interview, they both headed towards a relatively quiet park nearby.
Sitting on the cold bench, Lu Zhe finally spoke after a long while, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible weariness and deep confusion: "Yanxi, have you noticed? This world... seems to have erased all traces of our existence."
Chu Yanxi remained silent and nodded.
In the past few days, while doing their best to help Lin Rong, they also went to a small industrial town in the north that they remembered. However, the Red Star Textile Factory did not exist there at all.
There were no towering chimneys, no familiar apartment buildings, and no old locust tree at the entrance of the machine repair workshop. The location they found, based on their memories, was a sizable but now somewhat dilapidated light textile wholesale market built in the late 1990s. When they asked the elderly residents in the area, they all said there had never been any large state-owned textile factories here; there had been a few small, poorly performing weaving cooperatives, but they had long since disappeared during restructuring.
They tried to find Chu Jianguo and Wang Guifang, but the household registration system had no valid information matching their age and general experiences, as if these two people had never existed. Lu Zhe's parents and younger brother were also nowhere to be found.
Ruan Xiaofen, the girl they pulled back from the brink in the last century and who later became a key assistant in "Breaking the Cocoon," also gained nothing. When asked about the "Breaking the Cocoon Vocational Skills Training Center," the locals looked completely bewildered.
The pioneering work that once poured its heart and soul into, changed the fate of many people, including Shen Jing, and brought them a great sense of accomplishment and emotional connection, along with the soil in which it was nurtured—the Hongxing Factory in 1998, full of pain and hope—has left no trace in this 2005 time and space, like water stains evaporating in the sun.
That feeling was not just a sense of loss, but a profound sense of emptiness and absurdity that penetrated to the very core.
They once thought that although each time travel was different in time and place, it might be jumping on the same "world line", and that each intervention might leave ripples.
But now it seems that this may not be the case.
Chu Yanxi gazed at the clouds drifting slowly across the distant sky, her voice somewhat unsteady: "Perhaps our previous understanding was wrong. We thought we had entered a complete, time-series-connected documentary novel called 'Breaking the Cocoon.' But perhaps the 'documentary' and 'novel' parts are intertwined or even...layered."
Lu Zhe looked at her, his brows furrowed: "Yes, you said we transmigrated into a non-fiction novel called 'Breaking the Cocoon.' Non-fiction means that some of the characters and events recorded in the book have real-life counterparts. For example, your parents, and my parents."
Chu Yanxi's mind raced, and her eyes gradually cleared: "Yes! Although this book is a factual account, it is also a novel. The meaning of a novel is that these real cases have been embellished with literary techniques, and even some characters, some addresses, and some plot points are fictional."
The two exchanged a glance, simultaneously recalling the results of their recent investigation.
Chu Tongyu is still working at the Jiangcheng Public Security Bureau, now a composed and capable criminal investigation team leader. Su Wanqing remains a teacher at Jiangcheng Normal University, possessing a gentle demeanor and deeply respected by her students. Their daughter, Chu Yanxi, is in second grade; the little girl's bright smile shows no trace of gloom.
What struck them most was the silence.
Shen Jing is now the head of "Jing'an Household Service Company". The company is not large, but it has a very good reputation in the industry. In the photo, she has a neat short haircut, wears a proper business suit, has bright and confident eyes, and speaks calmly. She is completely different from the weak woman in my memory who trembled under Lu Youkun's fists and feet.
She got divorced and raised her son alone. Her son, Lu Zhe, was very obedient and had excellent grades. As soon as he got out of school, he would carry his schoolbag to his mother's company and do his homework diligently.
Chu Yanxi said, “Look, your mother didn’t commit suicide. She got divorced, became financially independent, and succeeded in her career. This shows that our intervention in the last world was effective. The fates of those characters based on real people changed positively because of our intervention, and this change has continued into this time and space, which is what we see.”
Lu Zhe hummed in agreement. "As for the Red Star Textile Factory, Ruan Xiaofen, and our parents and family members from the last time we traveled through time... if they are fictional characters or characters with a large element of artistic embellishment in the novel, then when the background of this book switches to 2005, or to another key chapter, these fictional background figures and supporting characters may be naturally omitted, or may never have actually existed in this timeline. Because the main documentary storyline of this book may not need them."
This inference is chilling, yet logically sound.
This is a work of documentary literature adapted from multiple real cases. Each case is relatively independent, but they are set in different historical contexts. For artistic effect, the author may create an environment set in the "Red Star Textile Factory" and introduce a typical character like "Ruan Xiaofen" to vividly demonstrate the pain of the wave of layoffs.
But when the story shifts to another case about illness and medical stress, the "stage" and "supporting characters" of the previous case naturally fade away.
Chu Yanxi sighed and concluded, "Therefore, we can no longer rely on the power of the Breaking the Cocoon Training School, because in this timeline, it has never existed in a way that we are familiar with. Our relatives in the previous world may just be projections of the real prototypes. They have their own lives, but the experience at the Red Star Textile Factory only exists in our memories, or rather, only in that specific chapter of 'Breaking the Cocoon'."
“They won’t remember us.” Lu Zhe let out a long breath, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the city sky.
Disappointment is inevitable, like building a castle with great effort, only to find that it was all for naught.
However, since those interventions based on reality can be continued, their efforts to help Lin Rong and Xiao Bin at this moment may also leave a positive mark on this world and truly change the fate of this mother and son.
Thinking of this, Lu Zhe smiled and said, "It seems that this time we really have to rely on ourselves and start from scratch."
Chu Yanxi also stood up: "Yes, at least we've figured out some of the rules. And we still have each other."
Lu Zhe felt a surge of warmth in his heart when he heard her last words.
Yes, although time and space are constantly changing and reality is hard to distinguish, at least Chu Yanxi exists in every world he travels to.
Just then, Lu Zhe's phone vibrated; it was a text message from a provincial newspaper reporter confirming the details of tomorrow's interview. Meanwhile, Chu Yanxi received a call from the community informing her that a donation of 10,000 yuan from a company had arrived and could be withdrawn for Xiao Bin's emergency treatment.
Meanwhile, in the hematology ward of the hospital, the stark contrast of reality is unfolding in the most acute way.
Xiao Bin was using domestically produced chemotherapy drugs, which caused severe side effects, including vomiting, loss of appetite, and mouth ulcers. Each feeding was like a battle. Lin Rong was always extremely patient, trying different methods to prepare light and easily digestible foods, feeding him bite by bite, and gently encouraging him. Xiao Bin was also exceptionally sensible; no matter how uncomfortable he was, he would try his best to swallow and weakly comfort his mother, saying, "Mom, I'm not in pain. I will eat well. If I eat more, I will get better."
The special care ward diagonally opposite presents a completely different scene.
Jinbao was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, but it was a type with a relatively good prognosis, and it was discovered early. With Wang Fugui's financial backing, he received the most expensive imported chemotherapy regimen.
Perhaps due to his good physical condition and adequate nutrition, Jinbao responded exceptionally well to the initial induction chemotherapy. The cancer cells were quickly suppressed, and his condition was effectively controlled in just a few days. His symptoms were significantly reduced, and the doctors all said that this was a very good start.
Li Chunjuan and Wang Fugui were overjoyed, even more convinced that money and the "best" medical care had created a miracle. Previously frantic with worry over their son's illness, they now unconsciously raised their voices, and when reporting on his condition by phone in the corridor, their words inevitably carried a sense of superiority.
"Don't worry, Jinbao uses imported medicine from the US, and it's very effective! The doctor said that as long as the subsequent transplant goes well, the chances of a complete cure are very high!"
"...Yes, thankfully it was discovered early, and we were willing to spend the money. This disease is most vulnerable to being delayed or being stingy..."
These words were grating to Lin Rong's ears. She carried the nutritious meal she had prepared for Xiao Bin, her head down, hurrying past, her nails digging deep into her palms, not even glancing at the person making the call.
After Jinbao's condition stabilized, his energy returned, and he became restless again.
He hated the hospital food, so Wang Fugui had his family's restaurant chef deliver different dishes every day, including lobster, abalone porridge, and various exquisite desserts, the aroma of which often filled the corridor. When Jinbao had a good appetite, he would eat and drink heartily, but when he was in a bad mood, he would angrily knock over his plate. Li Chunjuan would just coax him, "Baby, be good. If you don't want to eat, we'll change it. Tell Mommy what you want to eat."
In contrast, Xiao Bin, due to the side effects of chemotherapy, often had no appetite for the nutritious meals that Lin Rong had carefully prepared—the best she could afford—and even felt nauseous at the smell. Lin Rong could only tenderly stay by his side, feeding him a few bites when he felt a little better.
One afternoon, Dr. Liu was making rounds in two wards at the same time.
In the intensive care unit, he told Jinbao's parents, "The child's condition is very good right now; the induction remission was very successful. The next step is to prepare for the hematopoietic stem cell transplant. Have your family's matching results come out yet?"
Li Chunjuan immediately beamed and eagerly replied, "It's out! His sister Jinna's tissue matching is perfect! Thank God! They agreed without hesitation. Doctor, when can we schedule the transplant? We'll use the best medicine and hire the best specialists. Money is no problem!"
Dr. Liu nodded: "A fully matched transplant is the best-case scenario. Once the child's condition stabilizes a bit more, we can begin preparations for the transplant. Your family also needs to cooperate in mobilizing donors and preparing for the collection process."
"Okay, okay! We will definitely cooperate fully!" Wang Fugui patted his chest and promised.
At this moment, Wang Fugui became even more convinced that money was omnipotent. Even though his ex-wife was unwilling to let Jin Na donate bone marrow, when he generously promised to give her one million yuan afterward, she hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing.
When Dr. Liu arrived at Xiao Bin's ward, the atmosphere immediately became somber. He examined Xiao Bin's condition; chemotherapy had brought some relief, but not as significant and rapid as Jin Bao's, and the child remained very weak.
Dr. Liu said to Lin Rong, "Ms. Lin, Xiao Bin's condition is relatively stable, but a transplant is crucial for long-term survival. We have submitted a search application to the China Marrow Donor Program, but we haven't found a matching donor yet, so we need to wait patiently. Also... the treatment costs are quite high, so you should be prepared."
Lin Rong lowered her head, her voice barely audible: "I know, thank you Dr. Liu, I'm trying to find a way..."
Dr. Liu sighed, gave a few more instructions, and then left the ward.
Lin Rong stood frozen by the bed, head bowed, motionless for a long time. Dr. Liu's words echoed repeatedly in her mind like a curse.
Transplantation is crucial... No match... Treatment costs are high... Every word struck her grieving mother's heart like a heavy stone.
Meanwhile, the faint sounds of laughter and cheerful conversation coming from the ward diagonally opposite were constantly stimulating her eardrums and nerves.
That was Jinbao's voice, filled with spoiled, overly energetic fuss: "Mom, I want to eat that strawberry, the biggest one!"
Then came Li Chunjuan's doting response: "Oh my little darling, eat slowly, it's all yours! The doctor said that you're recovering well, and Mom will buy you whatever you want to eat."
Wang Fugui seemed to be saying something with a smile, his voice muffled, but his ease and confidence were still clearly discernible through the wall.
Lin Rong clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging deep into the tender flesh of her palms, bringing a sharp, stinging pain, but it was nothing compared to the suffocation and throbbing pain in her heart.
On what grounds?
Her son lay in a hospital bed, emaciated from chemotherapy, struggling even to drink porridge, his future as bleak as a candle in the wind. Meanwhile, the child next door, also suffering from a deadly illness, recovered quickly and well thanks to the most expensive medication, able to indulge in his picky eating and spoiled behavior without restraint, enjoying the carefree life his parents had built with money.
Why can't her bone marrow save her son? Why can't she even afford the most basic treatment costs despite her best efforts, and can only rely on charity from strangers and meager social donations? Meanwhile, other families can easily take out money to give their own daughters the opportunity to donate bone marrow.
“Fully matched transplant…money is not a problem…” These words tormented her heart repeatedly, as if they were poisoned.
If she had money, wouldn't Xiaobin be able to use the best medicine and suffer less?
If she had money, wouldn't she be able to get a transplant immediately instead of waiting in despair for that elusive, unknown unrelated donor?
If she had money, even if it wasn't her son, he would have a real hope of survival, instead of living like this, where every breath feels like bargaining with death.
A strong sense of resentment and bitterness, almost making her vomit, clung tightly to her heart like wildly growing vines, suffocating her. She looked at her son's pale, thin face on the hospital bed, his tightly closed eyelashes revealing deep dark circles, his sparse, soft hair from chemotherapy plastered to his sweat-dampened forehead.
He's so young; his life has just begun. He's so sensible, so determined to live...
But this world won't even give him a fair way to survive!
Lin Rong bit her lower lip hard until she tasted a slightly metallic sweetness on her tongue, barely managing to suppress the desperate sob that was about to burst out of her throat.
A vague and dangerous thought, like mold growing in the dark, emerged uncontrollably and silently.
—Does she think her son will survive if she gets the money? What does the law matter if she uses any means to get the money? What do her own life and dignity matter?
She was startled by the thought that flashed through her mind and instinctively hugged her arms.
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