Chapter 76: The Race Against Time

The day Old Master’s condition took a sudden turn for the worse was precisely six o’clock in the morning, the second day after I had taken him to watch Old Han practice.

It was also the day Old Han’s basketball tournament was set to officially begin. That morning, after preparing herself, she was just about to leave for her final training session before the games commenced in the afternoon.

I sat at home, sipping lemon tea in front of the television, when the hospital called. I immediately hailed a taxi and rushed there. Old Master was still in the ICU, his life hanging by a thread.

At the entrance to the emergency room, the doctor handed me a form—a critical illness notice—and asked if I was Old Master’s family member.

My mind went blank at that moment. Without a second thought, I snatched the form, intending to sign it immediately so the surgery could proceed.

Old Master’s only true grandchild was Old Han, but she had a basketball game that day. Even if she were to come, her current gender transformation meant she couldn’t be considered his ‘true’ family member in the traditional sense.

Unless Old Han revealed on the spot that she had become a woman overnight, or had undergone gender affirmation surgery—but even then, a mountain of documentation would be required, and there simply wouldn’t be enough time.

The doctor, too, seemed to give it little thought. He probably assumed I was Old Master’s grandson, having come to visit him for no other reason.

He glanced at the form, then re-entered the operating room.

I was left alone in the ward corridor, sitting on a chair as sunlight streamed through the window.

Yesterday, when I had pushed Old Master to see Old Han, I still felt that his death was a distant matter. Even if he didn’t have much time left, he could surely hold on for a few months, perhaps half a year.

He could watch Old Han’s basketball game, and then pass away peacefully in his hospital bed. Everything should have unfolded that way, yet this day arrived far too quickly.

I remained seated in the corridor, having arrived a little after six in the morning. The surgery lasted until eleven o’clock that noon.

As I sat there in a daze, the doctor opened the emergency room door. Immediately, a swarm of nurses emerged, surrounding Old Master, who lay on a bed, each holding an oxygen tank.

Old Master’s eyes were tightly shut, his face unnaturally pale. Steam rapidly appeared and vanished within the oxygen mask.

I instinctively stood up, watching the nurses push Old Master back to his previous ward. One nurse approached me, patting my shoulder from behind, her face impassive.

“Prepare for the funeral,” she stated. Without another word, she followed the others into the ward.

I stared blankly at the nurse’s retreating back, suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of speechlessness, unsure of what to say.

Standing there indefinitely was not an option. My steps felt unsteady as I slowly made my way back to Old Master’s room.

Old Master was hooked up to an oxygen mask, his breath barely a whisper. Only then did I notice that his face had turned an ashen white, unlike that of a living person.

The nurses had already dispersed, gathering at the doorway, chatting and laughing about yesterday’s variety show.

I stood by Old Master’s bed for a moment, then pulled up a stool and sat down. He remained with his eyes tightly closed.

A while later, his face suddenly flushed crimson, and he coughed twice, violently, filling the oxygen mask with condensation.

I shot to my feet, leaning over him.

Old Master slowly opened his eyes. I quickly grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly and gently rubbing it.

“Old Master, just lie still,” I said.

Through the oxygen mask, Old Master’s lips trembled slightly.

The nurses glanced over, then changed the subject, earnestly debating whether Lu Han or Kris Wu was more handsome.

My throat felt dry, and my voice wavered. “What is it, Old Master? Do you want some water?”

Old Master gently shook his head, his lips still moving.

I watched for a moment and understood. He was saying, ‘basketball game’.

My nose suddenly stung, and tears welled up.

I frantically rubbed Old Master’s hand. “Old Master, don’t be silly. You’re in this state. If I took you to watch the basketball game, Old Han would skin me alive!”

Old Master looked at me, slowly shaking his head, his lips moving, forming each word distinctly: ‘Basketball game’.

A nurse, who had been leaning against the doorframe, not joining the chattering group, spoke softly.

“He’s like this already. Just take him.”

Old Master, with his oxygen mask, couldn’t speak to me, but he looked at me with a silent gaze, a hint of a smile in his eyes, like an elder watching a young grandchild.

Wiping my reddened eyes, I looked at Old Master.

I had little family growing up, often isolated by the neighborhood children who called me a motherless child. This old man in the hospital bed, he used to play chess with my younger self, back when I was still trying to figure out if the knight moved in a ‘sun’ or ‘field’ pattern.

And when summer arrived, he would wave his palm-leaf fan, gazing into the distance.

Forcing down the tremor in my shoulders, I leaned over and grasped his hand. “Old Master,” I said, “wait for me. I’ll take you to watch the basketball game.”

I stood up and addressed the nurse behind me. “We’re discharging him.”

The nurses stopped their chatter, staring at me. One of them said, “What’s the rush? There’s a morgue here; we can freeze him for you first…”

“Hurry up! Stop dilly-dallying!” The nurse who had been leaning by the doorframe suddenly snapped, her voice cold and sharp.

She used to be responsible for changing Old Master’s bedsheets, never liked pushing him downstairs, and always stood at the ward door playing on her phone. I had even considered bribing her back then.

Now, her face was frigid as she cursed, “You bunch of good-for-nothings who get paid but don’t work! The family wants a discharge, so move your asses and get to it! Stop gossiping at the door! Xiao Liu! Go downstairs to the front desk and process the discharge!”

The nurses looked at her with displeasure. A moment later, one woman mumbled something and headed downstairs.

“Go do whatever you want,” the nurse said, pulling out her phone. Without even looking at me, she started playing WeChat. “Don’t miss it.”

I glanced at her and nodded. I stood up and pulled out Old Master’s IV. The wheelchair was right by his bed, but I didn’t spare it another glance.

I carried Old Master on my back, step by painful step, out of the ward.

The nurses all stared at me. After a moment, they burst into laughter and huddled together again. Behind me, I heard them discussing the bad luck of the nurse who had just gone downstairs, and the *Happy Camp* episode they had watched yesterday.

The bus stop was directly across from the hospital. With Old Master on my back and an oxygen tank in one hand, I sprinted across the road.

Pedestrians on the street stared at me in astonishment. Those walking in pairs covered their mouths, whispering amongst themselves.

Standing steadily by the bus stop sign, I gently adjusted Old Master on my back, securing him more firmly. “Don’t worry, Old Master,” I murmured, “I’ll get you there right away, right away…”

A bus slowly pulled up in front of me, utterly packed with people. I darted inside, and the passengers gasped softly at the sight of me carrying a pale, barely breathing old man.

The passengers surged backward, causing chaos in the bus, and those who were squeezed let out low curses. The driver, startled, looked at me and said, his voice a mix of bravado and fear, “Get off!”

I stood at the bus entrance, Old Master on my back, and for the first time, I awkwardly pleaded in a low voice. “Sir, please have mercy. Old Master doesn’t have much time left. He wants to see his granddaughter’s basketball game. Please, have mercy…”

The passengers stared at me in horror. The driver cursed under his breath, shouting, “Are you crazy? You’re bringing someone with one foot in the grave onto my bus? How unlucky if he dies here! The whole bus will be cursed because of you! Get out!”

Not a single passenger spoke up. A surge of irrational anger suddenly rushed through me. My eyes wide, I screamed, “What the hell are you saying? Say that again, and I’ll smash your car!”

Behind me, Old Master gently touched my back.

I turned my head with difficulty, seeing Old Master’s ashen face, gently shaking his head. My voice caught in my throat.

I glared fiercely at the people on the bus. They returned my gaze with terror. I began to step off the bus, my feet feeling as heavy as lead, as if each step would leave a crater in the ground.

Behind me, the driver was still cursing, “Damn it, how unlucky!”

Old Master and I got off the bus. Pedestrians, seeing us, slowed their pace, staring as if we were a spectacle. I gently adjusted Old Master on my back, my voice trembling as I whispered, “It’s alright, Old Master. Just wait, I’ll hail a taxi. Just wait.”

I continued to wait near the street, this time being more cautious. I stood beside a tree, shielding Old Master behind it. If a taxi stopped, they would likely only see me carrying someone, not Old Master himself.

I tried to make my facial expression appear natural, calm, but my face twitched uncontrollably. A moment later, a taxi drove by, and I laboriously extended my hand.

The taxi signaled and slowly pulled to a stop in front of me. I yanked open the car door, slid into the back seat, and tried to say with a poker face, “To the main entrance of X Middle School, please.”

The driver was a scrawny man in his late twenties with a buzz cut and a gold chain around his neck. He was casually about to start the car when he glanced in the rearview mirror, his expression instantly changing. He quickly said, “No, I can’t take you. Get out.”

I tried to sound relaxed. “Why can’t you? I’m already in.” Yet, the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

The taxi driver repeatedly shook his head, rolled down the window, lit a cigarette, and said, “Can’t take you. Get out quickly.”

I released my grip on Old Master and laboriously pulled my wallet from my pocket. I took out two hundred-yuan bills and said, “Just one trip, sir, it’s not far. I’ll give you two hundred…”

The taxi driver shook his head again. “It’s not about the money. Just get out.”

I suddenly recalled the bus driver’s hateful expression and suppressed the anger welling in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I looked casually out the window and said, “If you don’t take me, I won’t leave. I’ll just sit in your car! You figure it out.”

This taxi driver was likely a seasoned veteran, far more skilled at handling situations than a young man like me in his twenties. He, too, casually opened his door, stepped out of the car, took a drag from his cigarette, and peered in with a smirk.

“Then you sit,” he said. “I won’t drive. In a bit, I’ll lock up the car, go grab some food, and have a little drink…”

His words hit my ears like an oxygen tank being steadily pressurized, then further compressed with another surge of air, on the verge of exploding.

My face began to twitch uncontrollably. Old Master touched me again; it was nearly midsummer, yet his hand was exceptionally cold.

I abruptly got out of the car with Old Master on my back, kicking the car door shut. As I slammed the door, the taxi driver suddenly scrambled back into his car, letting loose a torrent of curses.

“Damn it, you piece of trash! You dare kick my car? Kick it again, and I’ll pull out the machete from my trunk and hack you to pieces!”

I spun around, intending to kick his headlight out, but the guy had already started the car and sped off in a puff of smoke.

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