Chapter 53: Check

Tan Mo grew up hearing so many insults and slights that he used to be irritable and impulsive, until he grew up and stopped caring about what people said and denigrated, and rarely got angry at what others said anymore.

But he could never have imagined that one day, the person he could not spare a single serious word to spare her the slightest bit of sadness would be branded with such an ugly word because of himself.

Mourning residue.

Just saying those two words made Tan Mo feel as if it was too hard to even breathe, because it was good for him, just because she was too nice and too kind to somehow bear these dirty words.

All because of him.

Tan Mo finally knows what all the odd looks are about these past two days.

Qiao Lan could not have been unaware of it, but Qiao Lan did not tell him, and it was not difficult to guess why, but Tan Mo could not feel moved, anger and remorse had burned him to the ground.

After gym class, Tan Mo looked at the girl's smile, which was still unclouded, and Tan Mo opened his mouth but did not say anything.

Saying what, that Qiao Lan should stop being nice to him in the future and not give the wrong impression that she likes a man with a physical disability?

Qiao Lan had made her attitude clear by not telling him about the incident, and she would never change her stance because of the gossip of others.

And the matter itself does not lie with Qiao Lan at all, but with him.

Tan Mo sat in the sound of the car without saying a word, and it did not take him long to think through the way to cut off the possibility of these remarks, clear and unambiguous, in only two ways.

Firstly, he took the initiative to stay away from Qiao Lan, or even to leave the place altogether, and once he was gone, all the strife would disappear with him.

Secondly, if he is able to stand up.

He knew that not only could he not stand on his legs, but his psychological disability was more unsettling and inferior to Qiao Lan's. He thought that even if he could stand up one day, Asperger syndrome would still be with him.

Asperger syndrome is a birth defect with no possibility of cure.

But now that Qiao Lan has been vilified for his crippled legs, Tan Mo sees the point of getting back on his feet.

If he could spare Qiao Lan from harm, he would give up what he once held on to, even if it was to make amends for his mother's guilt.

He was in fact such an incredibly selfish person.

He could have chosen to leave Qiao Lan, but as soon as he closed his eyes and thought of a life without Qiao Lan in it, Tan Mo dared not think about it anymore.

Like a man out of water.

It's going to die.

He wanted to take the second option.

The scene of the car accident began to come back to him, the screams of his mother when the car crashed into him, the bright eyes of his mother as she held him in her arms at the last moment, the complete unconsciousness of his legs after the explosion, and his grandparents pointing at him and saying that he had delayed his mother's life and killed her.

The crash, the explosion, the blood, the hospital, scene after scene flashed back before his eyes, Tan Mo's eyes widened in pain, but he could not see anything. You will be punished for turning your back on what you believed in, and the people you protected will be punished too...

Uncle Chan was startled by the sudden change in Tan Mo's breathing and had to stop the car by slamming his foot on the brake.

Uncle Chan opened the car door and asked him what was wrong. In his haste, he grabbed Tan Mo's wrist, and a dull pain shot through his wrist, and Tan Mo looked down and saw the peace knot and the obsidian bead on his wrist.

"If one turns his back on his faith there must be bad luck..."

Tan Mo looked at the black bead and murmured, "Let it all come to me."

Everything had nothing to do with Qiao Lan, and if there was a karmic retribution, it was his alone to bear.

Uncle Chan was taken aback by his sudden relapse, and his eyes turned red when he heard Tan Mo's mumbled words, asking him urgently what was wrong.

It was a long time before Tan Mo's eyes finally came into focus and he looked down at Uncle Chan and spoke slowly, "Call the doctor for me."

Uncle Chan, like hearing something unbelievable, was stunned in place for a moment, and only after a long time did his hands tremble with excitement.

"Contact...I'll contact tomorrow...no no no as soon as I get home..."

Uncle Chan doesn't know what happened to make Tan Mo finally come around and give up his former paranoia, Tan Mo doesn't say, it doesn't matter! He doesn't ask, and the fact that Tan Mo is finally receiving treatment is enough to make him too excited to speak.

When he got home that day, Uncle Chan immediately called the doctor who had operated on Tan Mo when she had just returned from abroad. Although the doctor could come to Tan Mo's home to examine him, he did not have the equipment at home, so it was better to go to the hospital.

Tan Mo sits in his wheelchair, his fingers gently gliding across the screen of his mobile phone, quietly looking at the WeChat box where he is chatting with Qiao Lan.

The last WeChat message was a daily good afternoon message from Qiao Lan after I spoke to her at lunchtime.

Tan Mo sat motionless for a long time, until after 9:30 pm, when the school finished its evening classes.

Within half a minute of the message being sent, Qiao Lan's phone call came through, the girl's voice somewhat indistinct amidst the noise and clamour.

"What's wrong," Qiao Lan asked him, just suddenly nervous, "is your leg hurting again?"

"Well," Tan Mo said, "that's why I'm not going tomorrow."

"If you don't feel well, just rest at home, your body is most important, you are too weak now", the girl was sometimes like a little monk, sometimes more nagging than Aunt Chan, but Tan Mo listened for a long time, she spoke on the other end of the phone, he listened quietly on this side.

It was probably Bai Yu on the other end of the line, asking her who she was talking to on the phone, and Qiao Lan said, half-heartedly, "Tan Mo."

Tan Mo's heart suddenly ached and he hurriedly found an excuse to hang up the phone.

Uncle Chan waited for him to come in after the call and said, "The doctor has been contacted and we'll be there in the morning."

"Hmmm," Tan Mo nodded as her body moved.

Uncle Chan took a deep breath and hesitantly asked him, "Going to the hospital tomorrow...is that really okay."

Tan Mo's fear and rejection of hospitals and doctors was so severe that Uncle Chan still feels terrible whenever he thinks of the knife Tan Mo stabbed into his leg.

"Yes", Tan Mo's tone was surprisingly calm, "call me in the morning sharp."

Uncle Chan nods and closes the door for Tan Mo.

When the door was closed Uncle Chan's face fell in a flash and he sat down on the sofa, an old man in his fifties and almost sixties covering his eyes and silently but uncontrollably bursting into tears.

He did not tell Tan Mo that he had just spoken to the doctor who said that Tan Mo's leg had dragged on for too long and that it might, in fact, be difficult.

While the doctor said it would be difficult, Uncle Chan understood that Tan Mo's real situation could be much more difficult than that.

He sat alone in the living room for a long time, wiped his face and returned to his bedroom, still in high spirits the next day, woke Tan Mo up as if he knew nothing and took him to the hospital.

Uncle Chan had to work hard to push back the doctor's morning appointments, leaving the earliest possible time for Tan Mo.

It hadn't been too long since he had last been to the hospital. Tan Mo had been there when his grandfather died, but today it was not for anyone else but himself, and he was the one being examined.

Tan Mo's nerves were already tense at the thought of this.

The examination, as if slowed down, was more difficult than Tan Mo could have imagined, as he listened stiffly to Uncle Chan's answers to the doctor's questions, laying on the cold equipment and listening to the various machines ticking in his ears.

A year and a half has passed since the accident and he has not had any professional examinations for a year and a half, now item by item, including his legs, including his overall fitness.

The whole morning passed and the doctor's expression became more and more serious from the solemnity of the beginning.

Although Qiao Lan had taught him many expressions, Tan Mo was still unable to detect such small changes in emotions as solemnity and seriousness, and only Uncle Chan could feel the temperature of his heart getting lower and lower.

The doctor gestured for Uncle Chan to follow him out. Uncle Chan pretended to be relaxed and asked Tan Mo to wait for a while, then followed the doctor out.

The doctor took a thick stack of films and other things and pointed them out to Uncle Chan.

Uncle Chan couldn't understand all of it, but he could understand the general idea, he clasped his hands together, "No need to tell me this, I can't understand it, I just want to know... can it still be cured..."

At the end, Uncle Chan said it almost through clenched teeth.

The doctor was silent for a good half a day and sighed, "The treatment was originally incomplete because of the patient's resistance, and then after a year and a half without professional examination and treatment, the transverse muscle dystrophy led to muscle atrophy, and the transverse muscle has been spread over several parts of the body, while later on, a nutritional disorder appeared. Rehabilitation was supposed to be very painful and very difficult, and the young master's long-term physical deficit simply could not hold up to the rehabilitation, so..."

"So the odds are good that the young master will...be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

Uncle Chan's eyes were too red to tell, but he still asked, "What are the odds...?"

"One percent, ninety-eight."

Uncle Chan felt his brain explode and he couldn't stand up anymore, stumbling backwards a few steps.

Tan Mo came out at some point, without a sound, and his light brown eyes still looked unruffled.

He looked quietly at the doctor and Uncle Chan, and after a long moment repeated softly, "Ninety-eight percent."

The doctor hastily changed his tune and said, "Actually it's not that high..."

Actually it's supposed to be higher, right, ninety-nine percent, or even...one hundred percent.

He thought he had chosen a different path and that maybe there would be a new beginning, but he never expected his retribution to come so quickly.

He had said that if there was any bad luck, please punish it to the fullest extent possible.

Now it was all fulfilled, but it came much sooner than he had thought.