Chapter 50: Brother, please. He Feng hadn't expected it, a few...

He Feng hadn't expected it, but by the next day, almost the entire village knew.

When he went out to buy sunflower seeds, he was stared at in all sorts of ways. He frowned, and those people looked away, but their faces still wore smiles, as if they were watching a play.

Normally, everyone he met along the way would greet him, but today, only He Lishu, who was buying vegetable seeds, nodded and asked, "Uncle, what are you buying?"

He Feng figured he probably didn't know yet.

Song Qingshu had come up with it, too, and He Feng hadn't let him, but he regretted it when he got home.

Because Luo Xiancai had arrived at some point, He Feng pushed open the door and saw Song Qingshu, head bowed, clutching the hem of his shirt. He said to Luo Xiancai, "Think about it again."

As Luo Xiancai passed He Feng, he sighed, not stopping. He Feng wanted to chase him to ask, but just as he took a step, he heard someone inside call out, "Brother, hug me."

The voice was so soft that Luo Xiancai, who had reached the main room, didn't hear it, but He Feng did. The inner door slammed shut.

He Feng walked over and put his arm around Song Qingshu's shoulders.

"What did he say, babe?" He Feng had a bag of sunflower seeds in his pocket.

Song Qingshu nestled into his neck, tears streaming down his face, hitting He Feng's neck like sparks, numbing it.

"Baby? What's wrong? Tell me." He Feng pulled the sunflower seeds out of his pocket and gently stroked his thin, fair neck.

"Brother bought sunflower seeds for Zaizai. Let's plant them when spring comes. How about planting a patch?"

Song Qingshu closed his eyes, unable to say a word.

His suppressed sobbing reached his ears, and He Feng's heart shrank, as if someone had burned his whole body with a red-hot iron, and finally stopped at his heart.

"Zazi, can you tell me what Luo Xiancai said?"

The more he coaxed, the more aggrieved Song Qingshu felt, and his heart twitched with his sobs. "Hold me, hold me."

He Feng had no other choice. He threw the seeds aside, hugged him and sat on the bed, moving along his back little by little. He wanted to turn his head to look at Song Qingshu, but he was avoided.

"Hold me, hold me, hold me." He Feng clenched his hands tightly, and his strong arms fit tightly with Song Qingshu's slender waist, leaving no gap.

He Feng suddenly remembered the way the village women coaxed their children. He suddenly stood up, holding Song Qingshu, one hand on his hip, the other holding him, and rocking him gently. "Don't cry, don't cry."

The position looked a little funny on him, but the figure of the person in his arms was so perfectly matched to his, it didn't seem awkward at all.

After rocking like this for a long time, Song Qingshu finally stopped sobbing, his words barely coherent. "Brother, no, are you tired?"

He Feng lowered his head to look at his tearful face, which had turned into a kitten's. "Are you willing to tell me now?"

"Rest, rest," he said slowly.

The hiccups wouldn't stop for a while, so He Feng laid him on the bed, ready to get him some water and wet a towel to wipe his face.

His muscles were tense and a little sore, so he stretched them a few times before leaving the inner room.

When he came back in, Song Qingshu had sniffled, his nose red, and his thin eyelids swollen, unable to fully open his once beautiful eyes.

He looked far more pitiful than yesterday, and He Feng, overcome with heartache, walked over and handed him the cup. "It's a little hot, sip slowly."

Song Qingshu's forehead was beaded with sweat from crying, but his hands were surprisingly cold. He sipped the teacup slowly.

"Look up, brother." He Feng used his own towel, pinching the corner of it, to wipe his eyes. Because the water was cold, Song Qingshu instinctively tried to duck.

He Feng held his jaw with one hand, preventing him from moving. "Be good, little one."

He was in the upper position, glaring down at Song Qingshu with the fierceness of a wolf king about to lash out. Song Qingshu couldn't even manage a hiccup, his slender body twitching.

The only thing cold was the corner of the towel he'd used to wipe his eyes. He Feng held the towel, warmed slightly by his body, in his hand, and used it to carefully wipe Song Qingshu's face.

"Little one, tell me," He Feng said, his tone low, almost pleading. He clenched the cold towel tightly to muffle the crackling of his joints.

Song Qingshu was still sobbing, "He, told me, don't go yet, class has to start."

When he mentioned this, he began to feel sad again, the corners of his mouth turned up, and there was mist in his eyes.

He Feng knew that he really liked teaching, otherwise he wouldn't hold the textbook every day to read, and he would even take two hands from home to practice before class, and even explained it to He Feng separately.

But He Feng just stared at him. When Song Qingshu asked him how the lecture went, he just nodded and said good. Song Qingshu's eyes sparkled, and he happily hugged him and said that was good.

Every morning, no matter how sleepy he was, he had to get up and go to school, and he had to carry a few candies in his pocket.

After receiving his salary, he not only had to take He Feng to eat, but also went to the candy store to pick out candies to reward students later.

When talking about school matters, he was in high spirits and looked more energetic than usual.

He Feng even felt that besides liking He Feng the most, Song Qingshu's favorite thing about being here was teaching.

"I'll go find him." He Feng turned and tried to leave. Song Qingshu took a half-gulp of water and choked on it. He coughed relentlessly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Ahem, brother, ahem, I'm not going," he said reluctantly. He Feng felt like a dog, the leash in Song Qingshu's hand. Even the slightest movement from him would have him surrendering instantly.

But he loved this feeling.

He patted his back repeatedly. "No, no, son, are you still feeling bad?"

Song Qingshu coughed, his breathing becoming labored, his inhales more than his exhales. His heart suddenly tightened, and the hand that had been holding He Feng's hand lost its strength. His delicate brows knitted together, and he managed to whisper the word "It hurts."

He wanted to tell He Feng that, while he loved teaching, he loved He Feng even more. But before he could even begin, his vision went dark and he lost consciousness.

The scalding water from the enamel cup spilled between them, onto He Feng's arm, Song Qingshu's hand, and even the quilt.

He Feng called out "Zi Zi" but found that he didn't respond. He

was about to run out with Song Qingshu in his arms, but he was afraid that he would be cold, so he pulled his military coat, wrapped him in it, and ran straight to Wang Dehui's house.

But Wang Dehui was not at home today. His daughter said that he went to the street to play cards with someone.

He Feng didn't dare to just hold Song Qingshu in his arms and ran to the street in the snow to find Wang Dehui.

The face of the person in his arms was pale and his lips were a little purple. He Feng was panicked and didn't know what to do. His mind was full of saving people, otherwise, Song Qingshu might die.

He rushed into the house and put Song Qingshu on the bed, shouting without looking back: "Do you have a bicycle? Go and call him, save people, tell him to save people!"

He Feng's mind turned into a mess, and he couldn't hear clearly. He always felt that Song Qingshu was whispering to him that it hurt.

He stood there, his eyes red and shouting and muttering: "He Sheng is also okay, I'll go find He Sheng."

Seeing that He Feng was almost going crazy with anxiety, Wang Yuxia didn't dare let him go out. She pulled him and tried to comfort him, "Yes, yes, yes, uncle, I'll go! You watch him, watch him carefully, I promise to call He Sheng for you too!"

"Xiao Chao, come here quickly!" She held He Feng and stood next to Song Qingshu, calling her son in the house, "Go to the street and tell your grandfather to come back and save his life. I'll go to Nandaqiao to find He Sheng."

The military coat wrapped around the man was opened, and Wang Yuxia saw that Song Qingshu, who was pale inside, was also very anxious.

Her hand was shaking as she pulled He Feng, "Uncle! Uncle! Don't worry, just watch him first, he must be fine."

He Feng could no longer hear clearly. He held Song Qingshu's cold hand, put his hand against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, which was getting weaker and weaker...

It was as if Song Qingshu was going to leave and never come back like his parents.

He Sheng, yes, He Sheng taught him to press on his heart and breathe.

He Feng clasped his hands together, pressing them against Song Qingshu's heart in an awkward position. He lowered his head to breathe air into him, not daring to slack off with his hands or words.

"Baby?"

"Baby, wake up. Don't scare me."

"Baby, I beg you, please talk to me, okay?"

"Xiaohua and Xiaohei are still waiting at home. The sunflowers I was going to plant for you haven't been planted yet. Don't you want to see them?"

He breathed air into him bit by bit, calling out to him as he left, hoping Song Qingshu would talk to him.

Song Qingshu, already in a coma, didn't even blink, only letting out a weak breath as He Feng's heart began to cool.

The heart beneath his palm had regained a little strength, but He Feng sensed it and continued to press.

He Sheng, who was far away, arrived first. "What's wrong, He Feng! Your hand is wrong. Get up! I'll press it."

He threw his bicycle outside and walked into the house. He crossed his hands, leaving a little space, and clasped them on Song Qingshu's chest.

He pressed and pressed according to the method he had learned.

He Feng did not relax at all. He lowered his head and continued to breathe into Song Qingshu, almost biting his delicate lips.

The brief reaction just now was over. Now He Feng felt a little bit of Song Qingshu's breath again. He looked up and shouted in surprise: "Baby!"

Wang Dehui walked in with quickened steps outside. Seeing the two people rescuing each other, he quickly wiped his hands and came over with a needle. He frowned and sweat broke out on his forehead. "Let me see, let me see."

"No, we have to rescue him first." He Sheng didn't dare to give in. The heart under his hand was beating too weakly. If he let go, it might stop in the next second.

His arms were shaking, and he didn't dare stop. "He Feng, keep breathing, or you'll just have to wait until we get him to the ground."

He Feng's original intention of letting Wang Dehui watch faded. He stepped back and felt Song Qingshu cough and exhale deeply before they stopped.

Wang Dehui felt for Song Qingshu's pulse in the gap between them. Feeling it, he instinctively wanted to curse. "Didn't I tell him not to let his emotions get out too much?"

Wang Yuxia, fearing her father would delay things, called out, "Dad! Save him first, then worry about this!"

"Next time you make him this desperate, there's no need to save him or rescue him." Wang Dehui snorted coldly, remembering what someone had said at the poker table earlier.

This made him even angrier. "He's so small, how are you going to do it?"

He Sheng, beside him, was massaging his arm. Seeing the muscles in He Feng's arm tense and his hand trembling, he knew He Feng must have been pressing hard.

Saving lives is a race against time.

"Stop talking about this, check him out!" He Feng's voice was trembling, his chest rising and falling, revealing his fear.

"He's been mad at himself. He already had heart problems, and now he's completely stopped working. The medicine might not work. I'll give him acupuncture, and you take him to the city to see a good doctor."

Wang Dehui, like before, held the needle over the fire, then wiped it with wine and inserted it into Song Qingshu's body.

He Sheng had never seen Wang Dehui give acupuncture to anyone before, so he just stood there without blinking, staring at him closely. Song Qingshu's face was still frighteningly pale, and his lips were no longer as terrifyingly black and purple as they had been at the beginning.

"Let's not go to the city, let's take the train to the provincial capital." He Feng stared at Song Qingshu's face. "Hejia Village can't accommodate the two of us now, so let's get out."

"Uncle!" He Sheng and Wang Yuxia shouted together.

He Feng had made up his mind. He knew this time was more serious than last time. That time, Song Qingshu was still conscious and could respond to him, but this time was different. He had really died.

His heart ached so much that he dared not even breathe. His lips were purple from being blocked and his whole body was shaking convulsively. He Feng knew that it was because of the severe pain.

Before, he would shrink like a shrimp when he felt uncomfortable, but this time, he just lay there without the strength to move.

He Feng rubbed his face and did not answer the two of them. The muscles on his face were twitching. His heart was belatedly beating so fast that it almost jumped out of his throat.

He exhaled, his eyes firm, "I want to take him to the provincial capital to see a doctor."

"He Feng." This time it was Wang Dehui who called him. The needles in his hand had almost all fallen on Song Qingshu, "This disease was brought from the womb." "

We have to go and see, what if there is a way to treat it, what if there is a better prescription!" He Feng said without giving any room for argument.

Wang Dehui saw Song Qingshu's trembling eyelids, touched his hand, and said softly, "Kid, have a good rest first."

He Feng's eyes fell on Song Qingshu's face again after a short absence. Wang Dehui touched his beard and said nothing of refusal, "Let's go to the provincial capital to have a look."