Chapter 27: Brother, Don't Be Angry. The next day, Song Qingshu followed

He Feng again... The next day, when Song Qingshu followed He Feng to the bridge, everyone he met greeted him, calling him Song Zhiqing.

Song Qingshu felt they addressed him with some respect, so he smiled and responded. He wasn't very good at words, so he just smiled at everyone.

His eyebrows curved, and his dimples appeared, making him look more lively than his usual silent, frail self. Everyone started to talk a little.

The most common thing he heard was, "Next time you see my child, educate him well. If he doesn't obey, spank him."

Song Qingshu didn't quite agree with this. "You can't just spank him. You have to reason

with him." They smiled and agreed, saying, "Yes, yes, yes. If he's really disobedient and can't be controlled, then spank him." They

were already riding bicycles, chatting and laughing side by side, and soon arrived.

Song Qingshu sat down at the table again, asked each person to say their name, and wrote a stroke after it.

The remaining work would have to wait until the others finished their lunchtime work and came back, so he could write down the work.

The village chief said that only four entries a day would count as one workday. This was to prevent someone from coming once in the morning, writing down the work, and then running away, leaving the others unaware.

In this case, they would have earned a workday for nothing. Understandably, there were always those who took advantage of loopholes, even with the village chief's tight schedule, and Song Qingshu encountered one.

He was the last one to arrive. Before he arrived, He Feng had remembered that he had left his outer sweat jacket where the work was being done and told Song Qingshu to wait there while he picked it up and left.

Then He Ping came running over, saying that he had arrived late that morning and had gone straight to work, not having had time to come and write down his work. Could he add his name now?

He mentioned his name, but Song Qingshu didn't see it on the list. He asked if he had any proof.

Song Qingshu thought, "He couldn't possibly be coming here to claim work points without having done any work at all." He

didn't look like he'd worked all morning; his clothes weren't particularly dirty, only a little mud dappled around his trouser legs.

He Ping had a scar on his brow, making him look fierce. He was wearing a hat. "Everyone's gone, where can I find someone to testify?"

He said impatiently, "You just added a line to my account, what's the big deal?"

Song Qingshu knew he was trying to make money without doing any work. He put down his pen and argued with him, "You can't have it if you didn't do it. It's unfair to others."

He was actually a little scared, but he knew He Feng would be back soon, so he didn't have to fear the man who looked like a labor camp prisoner.

"I won't write it for you." Song Qingshu closed the list and put it away, but He Ping grabbed him. "Just write it down, it's not a big deal."

Song Qingshu didn't dare to use force, fearing that the paper would be torn. Frowning, he threatened him, "If you do that again, I'll call the village chief! He'll have you kicked out. You can't work here."

"Why are you so stubborn? What's the big deal if I ask you to write a few lines? Believe it or not, I'll beat you up!" He took off his hat and rolled up his sleeves.

He looked like he was about to hit someone.

"Even if you hit me, I won't write it for you." Song Qingshu's temper flared up, and he raised his chin slightly. "He Feng will be here soon. Can you beat him?"

He Ping was completely furious. "I thought you were so stubborn. You're hanging out with He Feng, right?"

"You look like a woman. He Feng's still single at his age. Did he have sex with you?"

He leaned in. "Hey, do you enjoy having sex with men?"

"I didn't expect he'd be so lucky to have sex with someone like you. A young master from the city must be naive."

Yiyin's voice sounded disgusting. Song Qingshu was so angry that he shook his body and glared at him. "Get out!"

"Oh, you're angry. Did I really say that? I think you're not bad looking. How about this? I'll give you some money and let me have sex with you once. I won't let you record this job for me. How about it?"

The man who leaned in was bareheaded, with a sly grin on his face. His three white eyes were raised, revealing a layer of white underneath.

Song Qingshu slapped him directly.

The man whose head was knocked sideways immediately became enraged. He pushed Song Qingshu back, cursing uncontrollably, "You dare to fight me? I'll kill you!"

As Song Qingshu fell to the ground, his mind was dazed. His heart, a pounding he hadn't felt in ages, began to pound again. His breathing was strained, and his face, pale and pained, stared in the direction He Feng had left.

How could this be? Wasn't his heart fine?

Why did this pain feel so familiar?

He had clearly seen He Feng running towards him, but no words came out. His face was drained of color, his hands clutching his heart, and his ribs seemed to ache.

Every vein in his body felt like it had been tangled, cut, and then tied again, tangled and tangled.

He Feng came over and punched He Ping, knocking out two of his teeth. He Ping spat out blood and was about to curse when he heard Song Qingshu's heavy breathing.

It was like a broken bellows being forced to start, throbbing and trembling, the sound of something about to fail.

He Feng was extremely panicked, and patted his back and chest in panic, "Baby? Baby? Don't scare me!"

The person who was originally curled up on the ground was held in his arms, his pale face was blue and purple due to difficulty breathing, he took a breath in and out half a breath.

Song Qingshu knew that this was not a breathing problem. Every time he took a breath, his heart seemed to be tightened by a steel wire, and the pain made him dare not breathe.

There were clear tears in his eyes, his delicate brows were tightly furrowed, and the words were stuck in his throat. He stared at He Feng aggrievedly.

"Where does it hurt, your heart? I'll take you to the clinic to see a doctor." He Feng reacted and didn't care about anything else. He picked up the person and ran.

There happened to be a pharmacy on the other side of the bridge, but the medicine used was more than that on the street. He Feng liked to come here to get medicine because he could bear it and the medicine worked quickly.

He didn't care about anything. His legs were covered with mud spots, and his shoes were half-fallen from kicking, and he even lost one on the way.

The clothes on his upper body, which were almost dry, were now wet again.

It was not because he was tired, but because he was scared. He was afraid of the painful look of Song Qingshu curled up in his arms. He was afraid that such a sick and pitiful person could not hold on and would die at any time. He

breathed in more than out, his whole body was shaking, his face was pale, his mouth was bleeding from biting, and the veins on his neck were bulging, as if they would explode in the next second. It

was too scary.

He Feng had never been scared like this before in the army.

As soon as he ran to the door, he shouted to He Sheng, "Help me!" He Sheng, who was about to eat in the room, was so scared that he put down his chopsticks and the half-bitten steamed bun and walked out.

He happened to run into He Feng rushing over with Song Qingshu in his arms, and they almost bumped into each other.

He Feng's forehead was covered with sweat, but he didn't let the man go. He just let He Sheng watch, "Come and see what's wrong. My heart hurts and I can't breathe."

Song Qingshu's thin lips were trembling. Now the beating of his heart was a burden to him. He curled up in He Feng's arms, wishing he could turn himself into a small ball and fold and tighten all the painful parts.

This was a habit he had inherited from the past. When he had a heart attack, there was no one around him most of the time. In the past, there was his grandmother, and later it was his father, the director.

But his father, the director, was very busy and could not always visit him. When he felt uncomfortable, he would hug himself into a ball, and it seemed that the warmth would make him feel less uncomfortable.

So it is the same now.

He was in so much pain that his ears began to ring. His eyes, which were barely open, were half-closed as he looked at He Feng and the stranger man, their mouths opening and closing, probably asking for help.

He bit his lip, not expecting that he still had heart problems.

Can't he be allowed to be a normal person?

The tears from the corners of his eyes fell to the ground, and no one saw it at this critical moment.

He Sheng knew that this was really urgent, and he didn't dare to chew the steamed bun in his mouth, "No, I'll give him first aid, and you go find Wang Dehui, he can give acupuncture and can help people recover."

He Feng didn't dare to delay, and just put Song Qingshu down and let him lie on the bamboo bench and was about to leave.

He Sheng pulled him aside, placing his hands down. "I'll press his heart first, and you give him mouth-to-mouth air. Don't be shy, saving a life is important."

Song Qingshu was groggy from the pain, but he knew what was going on. He instinctively separated his hands from his heart, allowing He Feng to see the scratches on his fingers, which had been folded in pain.

He Feng's eyes welled with pain, and he followed He Sheng's instructions to breathe through the pain. He repeated this five times before Song Qingshu

finally felt able to breathe more freely. He didn't dare delay until Song Qingshu had recovered. He borrowed He Sheng's bicycle, sat Song Qingshu face-to-face in front of him, and pedaled all the way to Wang Dehui's house.

The old man was exercising on the holly tree by the door, doing pull-ups like on a horizontal bar. Seeing He Feng rushing over, he immediately asked what was wrong.

He Feng's face was extremely grim, and he practically knelt down to beg Wang Dehui to save Song Qingshu.

Wang Dehui quickly went inside to get his own needles, thin, silver-white needles, as long as a finger, and stabbed them into Song Qingshu's body. It was He Feng who closed his eyes first.

But it was only for a moment, and he immediately opened his eyes, looking at Song Qingshu's face with concern, "Does it hurt, little one?"

Fearing that he would worry too much, Song Qingshu shook his head slightly and quickly inserted the second needle.

Song Qingshu stopped talking, and He Feng watched the whole process with a frown. Song Qingshu did not show any pain until the end.

He Feng just thought that Song Qingshu was too sensible. His family had given him too little care in the past, so he just kept it to himself when he encountered problems, even if it was painful.

He didn't know that it was because Song Qingshu had long been accustomed to it. In fact, in the early years, before his parents had a younger brother, his grandmother loved him very much and had received treatment many times.

As long as his family could find Chinese and Western medicine, they would take him to see any doctor.

So even when his parents didn't want him anymore, he never thought of hating them. They had no choice.

He did not look at He Feng's distressed expression. Every time a needle was inserted into an acupuncture point, it did not bring pure pain, but a sore and bloated feeling.

It was like forcing a fish bone into a piece of tofu without air holes.

This also proved that the old man was really powerful. Song Qingshu closed his eyes. The pain in his heart had actually eased, but he still felt that the piercing pain remained inside, and was constantly growing sharp thorns, piercing every inch of flesh.

He knew that this was an incurable disease.

After a while, Wang Dehui put away all the needles and said, "You're getting better now."

Song Qingshu slowly sat up with the help of He Feng. He was a little exhausted by the pain, and he relied on the arm on his lower back to sit up straight.

It was soft like freshly rolled noodles.

"You have had this disease since childhood, right?" Wang Dehui sat in front of Song Qingshu, his tone relaxed, not giving him the feeling of embarrassment that his previous doctor had.

Song Qingshu nodded, his voice weak, "Yes."

"Here, give me your hand again." The old hand rested on Song Qingshu's fair wrist. His skin was as white as white paper, even whiter than the exercise books children used for homework.

Wang Dehui put his hand down. "I took medicine before, and it worked. Why don't you take it anymore?"

Song Qingshu's eyes widened. He was about to say that he had never taken any effective medicine before, but suddenly remembered that this was not the old time.

It was 1981, and he was not the old Song Qingshu, but Song Zhiqing.

Medicine? What medicine? He tried to recall it, searching his memory. It was the medicine he had stuffed into the cabinet and didn't know what it worked for!

But even the original owner didn't know the specific effects, so Song Qingshu didn't take it seriously. Who knew it was effective?

He wanted to bite his lip, but touched the place where he had bitten before, and hissed.

Tears suddenly welled up in his eyes. "I didn't know it was a useful medicine."

He Feng had never seen him take any medicine since he had been raising him at home. He thought it was just because he hadn't lived well before and was malnourished.

"What medicine? Where can I buy it? I'll go get it."

"I don't know how to treat it. I just relieved the pain. This disease can't be cured. You can only take care of it." Wang Dehui stroked his beard. "You can't work hard, you can't be overly happy or sad, and you can't put any strain on your heart."

Song Qingshu was so scared that he immediately went to see He Feng. He had been abandoned because of this. Even though He Feng had said that he would support him for the rest of his life, he was still worried.

He also knew that people change.

He Feng disagreed. "Then take care of it, and buy medicine later. If it can't be cured here, go to the town; if it doesn't work in the town, go to the city; if it doesn't work in the city, go to the provincial capital."

His voice was sonorous and powerful, as if he was giving the two of them a military order .

Song Qingshu reached out and touched his fingers, but the words were directed to Wang Dehui. "If I show you the medicine, can

I prescribe the same prescription?" "I can try." Wang Dehui didn't dare to make a decision, but gave the two of them hope.

"Brother, the medicine is in the cabinet at home. My dad never told me how important it is. He just told me to remember to drink the medicine well and not to do strenuous exercise."

"I felt strong before I drank it. I never thought it was medicine for the heart."

He sat there, looking up at He Feng from bottom to top, explaining in a low voice.

He was afraid that He Feng would be angry.

"Then let's go home. I'll bring the medicine over later." How could He Feng be angry with him? He had no temper when he was with him.

Even if Song Qingshu hit him, he might not be angry. He was afraid that he would not feel satisfied and would grab his hand and hit him a few more times.

Wang Dehui agreed and told him to be careful.

Anyway, they were here and not far from home. He Feng bent down and picked him up like a princess.

When they walked out and saw the sun, Song Qingshu's hands were still hunched, hidden for fear that He Feng would see the marks he had scratched on his hands. He waited anxiously for He Feng's verdict.

He Feng sighed, "Son, I'm not angry, I'm just scared."

There was still a wound on his lip, and Song Qingshu couldn't lick it or bite it. He blinked and stared at He Feng's profile.

"From now on, I'll watch over you. Take your medicine well, son, okay?"

"Okay."

He Feng put Song Qingshu on the bed, told him to lie down, and went out to deal with things.

He Feng wanted to laugh when he found the medicine in the cabinet. It was tucked away in the corner of the cabinet. No wonder He Feng hadn't noticed even though they had switched rooms for so long.

There was steaming hot water and two candies beside Song Qingshu. He

peeled a White Rabbit and stuffed it into his mouth.

This was the treatment for being sick, a treatment he hadn't enjoyed for a long time.