At night, the whole village was quiet, so quiet that it made people feel a little uneasy.
Many people lie in bed, tossing and turning but unable to fall asleep.
The image of Su Ermao being sick kept appearing in their minds, and they were worried.
"What should we do if Su Ermao really gets the plague?" A woman whispered to her husband beside her, with a hint of tears in her voice.
She held her husband's arm tightly, as if this could give her some sense of security.
"Yes, the plague spreads very quickly. Will we be infected with the plague too?" The husband also responded to his wife with a worried look on his face and a frown on his face.
He looked at the dark sky, his heart heavy as if a huge stone was pressing on it.
This night was undoubtedly long and painful for many villagers in Sujia Village.
The darkness seemed endless, covering the entire village and weighing heavily on everyone's heart.
Many people just stared at the dark night sky with their eyes open, without blinking, their minds full of random thoughts and all kinds of worries coming in waves like the tide.
Everyone was suffering in endless worry and fear, looking forward to dawn, but also afraid that the news that would arrive after dawn would be even more despairing.
But this morning, the familiar sound of the village chief's gong was still not heard. However, the villagers were already preoccupied with Su Ermao's affairs and had no intention of caring about the loss of their usual routine.
Even without the urging of the gong, everyone quickly got up from the bed, each with a solemn expression, silently staring at the movements over there at Widow Wang.
There was worry, fear, and more importantly, a sense of uneasiness about the unknown in those eyes.
Widow Wang did not sleep a wink that night.
She stayed by Su Ermao's bedside, never leaving. The moonlight illuminated her tired yet determined face.
Every hour, she would gently reach out and carefully touch Su Ermao's forehead, her movements so gentle as if she was afraid of hurting him.
Every time after touching him, she would stare at Su Ermao's face closely, her eyes full of expectation, hoping that the scorching temperature would subside soon and hoping that Su Ermao would get better soon.
She kept repeating in her heart: "Oh God, please bless my Ermao, let his fever go away quickly..."
Everyone else was afraid that Su Ermao had caught the plague, and Widow Wang was also afraid.
She was not afraid of contracting the plague herself, but she was afraid that if her son really contracted the deadly plague, she would have to watch her son leave her.
She didn't dare to think about how she would live in the future without her son.
In this world, her son is her only hope and the support for her survival.
She is a widow who has taken care of her son all these years and raised him with great difficulty.
Now, if my son is gone, what hope is there for this empty home?
What's the point of her living in this world?
At this moment, there was despair in Widow Wang's eyes, yet there was also a kind of determination.
She secretly swore in her heart that if her son really contracted the plague, she would never live alone.
Anyway, she had already lost her husband and had few relatives left in this world, so she had no ties.
If she could walk with her son on the road to the underworld, the mother and son could keep each other company. When they got there, she could continue to take care of her son and not leave him alone.
Thinking of this, Widow Wang's tears couldn't stop sliding down her cheeks.
Just after the Yin hour, she reached out her hand gently as usual, and touched her son's forehead with a hint of caution.
When she touched it, she was surprised to find that her son's forehead was no longer as hot as before.
At this moment, Widow Wang finally smiled. Although the smile was tired, it revealed immense relief and joy. She murmured to herself, "That's great! It seems Ermao doesn't have the plague!"
This simple sentence seemed like the warmest dawn in the dark night, dispelling the haze in her heart.
When it was daybreak, she touched her son's forehead again.
This time, she was even more pleasantly surprised to find that her son's temperature had completely returned to normal.
Widow Wang was so excited that she stood up suddenly and rushed out in a hurry, running all the way towards Doctor Bai.
Along the way, she was extremely anxious and kept shouting, "Doctor Bai, Ermao's fever has subsided, please come and take a look!"
She was running out of breath, her hair flying in the wind, but she ignored all that and only wanted Dr. Bai to come and confirm her son's condition so that she could finally put her mind at ease.
The hurried footsteps echoed in the camp in the early morning, as if conveying an exciting piece of good news.
When Doctor Bai heard Widow Wang's shout, his originally serious face gradually relaxed.
He didn't dare to delay for a moment and quickly put on his mask. Then, he hurriedly followed Widow Wang to where Su Ermao was.
When he came to Su Ermao's bed, Doctor Bai first looked at Su Ermao lying on the bed carefully. He saw that although the child's face was still a little pale, he was much better than before when he was feverish and weak.
After a series of examinations, Dr. Bai was pleasantly surprised to find that Su Ermao's fever had indeed subsided, and he did not show other symptoms of the plague such as incessant coughing, general fatigue, and rashes.
Doctor Bai straightened up, breathed a sigh of relief, and a relieved smile appeared on his face. He secretly congratulated himself and said, "It seems that Su Ermao is lucky enough not to have contracted the plague! This is really a blessing in disguise."
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