Chapter Twenty-Nine: Rushing Through the Night

Provincial Capital Hospital.

At five in the morning, Zhao Fan paid the fare and hurriedly got out of the car with his father. An hour earlier, they had received a call from Zhao’s mother, telling them that Zhao Yun’er’s condition had suddenly worsened—her nosebleed would not stop. Zhao Haitian had gone to speak with the doctors, only to be told that Zhao Yun’er could not receive a blood transfusion.

In her anxious state, Zhao’s mother spoke unclearly; Zhao Fan and his father didn’t bother to ask further, instead rushing straight to the hospital by taxi.

Bursting into the ward, Zhao Fan glanced around and saw no one. After a moment’s thought, he guessed they must be in the operating room, so he led his father in that direction. From afar, they spotted Zhao Haitian crouched in a corner, clutching his head, while Zhao’s mother paced before the operating room door, her worry etched plainly across her face.

The red light above the operating room glowed, casting a cold and desolate aura in the stillness of dawn.

Zhao Fan frowned, slowing his pace. “Brother, has anyone come out from the operating room?”

Zhao Haitian lifted his head, eyes bloodshot. “Not yet.”

“How long has she been inside?”

“Half an hour.”

Half an hour...

A chill swept through Zhao Fan’s heart. Zhao Yun’er’s illness was not yet at the stage for surgery—why had she been in the operating room for half an hour already?

Just then, the door swung open and a nurse wheeled someone out.

The family rushed forward; Zhao’s father, mother, and Zhao Haitian followed the departing nurse, while Zhao Fan stayed behind to speak with the doctor.

“Doctor, the child…”

“At present, the child’s condition is stable, but we can’t guarantee there won’t be changes.”

Zhao Fan frowned. “Wasn’t she already improving? Why…”

“With leukemia, there’s never a definitive prognosis; it changes rapidly. We can’t give you any assurances.”

“If we want a cure, what is required?”

“Bone marrow. A bone marrow transplant. I recall discussing this with your family previously—how has it been over half a month now and you still haven’t come for typing?”

Over half a month!

Zhao Fan nodded, suppressing the fire in his eyes. He spoke calmly, “There have been some unforeseen delays, but rest assured, doctor—I will resolve this as soon as possible.”

He turned to leave but was stopped by the doctor.

“The child may soon show signs of excessive bleeding. If you require blood, you’ll need to present your blood donation certificate.”

“What do you mean?” Zhao Fan halted.

“It means you must provide proof. Only then can our hospital administer blood to your child.”

“And if we can’t?” Zhao Fan’s tone darkened.

“If you can’t…” The doctor gave an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but the hospital can only…”

He didn’t finish his sentence before Zhao Fan seized him by the collar and pinned him against the wall.

“Say it again.” Zhao Fan spoke, word by word.

The doctor, frightened, nonetheless repeated, “If your family cannot provide proof, our hospital will not administer a blood transfusion.”

“Little brother!”

Zhao Haitian rushed over, pulling Zhao Fan away. “Sorry, doctor. My little brother is young and can’t control his emotions. If he’s offended you, I apologize. Please forgive him.”

Apologizing, Zhao Haitian dragged Zhao Fan away. Only when they entered the elevator did he release his grip.

“Little brother, you were too impulsive.”

Zhao Fan snorted. “I didn’t lay a hand on him.”

“You… Sigh, even if you confront the doctor, it won’t help. They’re just following procedure. Don’t make things harder for them. It’s just blood donation; I’ll donate tomorrow.”

“Hmph!”

Zhao Fan snorted again, folding his arms and leaning against the elevator wall.

Ding—

The elevator arrived, and Zhao Fan strode out first.

Zhao Haitian followed, a look of helplessness in his eyes but a faint smile at his lips. He was grateful that, when all seemed hopeless, he returned home and now had something to rely on.

At the same time, he recalled his years of estrangement and couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

Compared to Yang Qingqing’s family, his own were truly family.

Inside the ward, Zhao’s father and mother sat on opposite sides. Zhao Fan glanced at Zhao Yun’er on the bed and signaled for them to step outside.

“The doctor just spoke to me about the bone marrow transplant. Mom, brother, it’s been so long—why didn’t I know?”

Zhao Haitian fell silent.

Zhao Fan fixed his gaze on him, determined to extract an answer. A bone marrow transplant was the only treatment for leukemia; the doctor had mentioned it, yet he hadn’t known.

It was precisely because of this that he thought Zhao Yun’er was improving.

After everything, no one had told him.

Zhao’s mother sighed, saying nothing.

Zhao Haitian clenched his fists. “I told Mom not to say anything.”

“Why?”

“The transplant costs too much. I wanted to rely on myself, so…”

“Rely on yourself?” Zhao Fan sneered. “Brother, do you really think Yun’er can wait for you to get the money?”

It wasn’t that he looked down on Zhao Haitian, but if he could have gotten the money, they wouldn’t have needed to bring Zhao Yun’er home.

They barely had money for hospitalization—how could they possibly save enough for a transplant?

By the time Zhao Haitian had saved up, Zhao Yun’er would likely be gone.

“Brother, you’re not a three-year-old. Can’t you tell what’s urgent and what’s not? Can the transplant wait?”

Zhao Fan was truly enraged, so much so that his father and mother stood silently aside, not daring to speak.

Zhao Haitian lowered his head.

Pressing his hand to his forehead, Zhao Fan forced himself to calm down. “Enough. I won’t waste time arguing. We’ll do the bone marrow typing immediately. If it’s a match, arrange the surgery right away.”

Zhao Fan knew how critical a bone marrow transplant was for leukemia—there could be no delay, and family members had the highest chance of compatibility.

With that, he sought out the doctor, asking for tests and also checking the bone marrow registry.

This was a precaution, lest family matching failed and more time was wasted.

With Zhao Fan in charge, the others dared not object. The matter was settled quickly, and all that remained was to await the results.

Yet while waiting, another problem arose: Zhao Yun’er’s nosebleeds grew increasingly frequent. The small child curled up on the bed, drained and spiritless from excessive bleeding. Even Zhao Fan, watching, felt his heart ache.

But the hospital, bound by its regulations, refused to allow a transfusion.

Left with no choice, Zhao Haitian said, “I’ll go donate blood.”

Zhao Fan immediately followed. “Where will you donate?”

At the elevator, Zhao Fan stopped Zhao Haitian.

“The hospital has a donation center. I just need to go there.”

Zhao Fan fell silent. The two stood at an impasse for several minutes before he relented.

“We’ll go together.”

“Alright.”

At the blood donation window, while waiting, Zhao Fan asked the nurse and learned that family members wishing to use blood must donate at least three times.

“Must it be three times or more?”

“Yes, at least three times.”

Three times.

Zhao Fan frowned. No one in their family had donated blood before; to donate three times in one go could kill someone.

“Is there no room for flexibility?”

“Sorry, it’s hospital policy. There’s nothing we can do.”

Zhao Fan felt frustrated. So-called hospital policy—was it just because they lacked status, so no exceptions could be made?

It really made him furious!