Chapter 94 Part 1
The man fumbled on the table, then bent down and retrieved a scroll from the floor, unrolling it and tilting it towards the camera. “Doctor Wu, hello. I painted this based on my family’s description of your Nuo opera performance. I hope you like it.”
The painting, in traditional Chinese ink wash style, depicted Wu Heng atop the human tower, the artist intentionally omitting the faces, emphasizing the grandeur of the scene. A single ray of sunlight illuminated Wu Heng’s earring, creating a divine aura.
Wu Su, peeking in, exclaimed, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
You Jin immediately echoed, “Yes, very beautiful.”
But Wu Su didn’t hear Shi Xuan’s response and turned to see him staring intently at the painting.
The young artist, his hearing sharp, noticing the shift in their attention, adjusted his position, now facing the camera directly.
[Wow, he’s a painter? Wu Heng looks amazing in this painting, five thousand, I’ll buy it.]
[Five thousand? That’s Zheng Feiran, a rising star in the traditional painting world. Five thousand is not enough.]
[His eyes… he can’t see, right? A blind painter, his works better than mine, truly talented.]
[How unfair, an artist, his sight taken away, he can only paint from his imagination now.]
Wu Heng’s voice was filled with admiration. “It’s truly beautiful, thank you, Mr. Zheng.”
Zheng Feiran gave a self-deprecating smile, since losing his sight, no matter how much praise he received, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just pity.
He touched the brush on his desk, then after a long hesitation, asked, “Doctor Wu, you can probably tell… I’m blind, do you think… there’s any chance for me to see again?”
Five years ago, a car accident, Zheng Feiran, a promising young artist, lost his sight, his world plunging into darkness.
Unable to accept it, he had been devastated, even attempting suicide before being saved.
For two years, he couldn’t even touch a brush. A blind man, what could he paint?
But life went on, and in his third year, he picked up his brush again, and as the tip touched the paper, he felt alive, painting a way to express his pain and frustration.
His passion for art remained, undimmed.
For the past three years, he had been a blind artist, producing acclaimed paintings.
He dreamt repeatedly of regaining his sight, seeing the colors of the world again, the dream becoming a nightmare, haunting him.
Wu Heng, the online shaman doctor, his miraculous cures, impossible feats… although specializing in strange illnesses, he still held onto a sliver of hope.
He just wanted one answer, a chance?
If not, he would let go.
Wu Heng shook his head. “Your eyes are dead.”
Zheng Feiran slumped in his chair, a wry smile on his face, so he was still foolish enough to hope, Wu Heng, however skilled, wasn’t a god.
[A doctor, not a miracle worker. Don’t blame him, I’ll support you, I’ll visit your exhibitions!]
[Apply for a guide dog. It’ll be your eyes.]
[Glad to see a normal illness, these past few days have been all about ghosts and curses and stuff.]
[I’d rather be deaf or mute, but not blind…]
Zheng Feiran chuckled sadly, regaining his composure. “I understand, Doctor Wu, I’ll disconnect now, not wasting your time.”
“Wait,” Wu Heng suddenly stopped him, “Don’t you want to know how you lost your sight?”
Zheng Feiran was startled, “I was on my way to the academy when I got into a car accident. When I woke up, I was blind. My family investigated, it was just a normal accident.”
Wu Heng said, “I’ll teach you a spell. Go to sleep.”
Zheng Feiran’s heart pounded, another possibility? He desperately wanted it to be something other than a simple accident, a chance, perhaps…
Wu Heng privately messaged him a sleep spell, and they watched as he fell asleep, his expression twisting in his sleep, as if plagued by nightmares.
[What’s going on? Didn’t he say his eyes were dead? Why is he making him sleep?]
[Knowing Chengde Medical Clinic’s live streams, ‘dead’ must be true, but there’s probably also a supernatural element…]
As the netizens watched, a cheerful voice called out from outside Chengde Medical Clinic, “Middle Wu! Little Wu!”
A man, carrying a gleaming cleaver, entered, Butcher Luo.
Shi Xuan stared at the knife, which seemed to radiate a faint Yin qi, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Wu Su, seeing the cleaver, his face lighting up. “Brother Luo, isn’t this your old knife? Where did you find it?”
Butcher Luo said happily, “Exactly! That talisman Little Wu gave me! I wasn’t even thinking, and then, you won’t believe it! It was right there, on the ground! Thank goodness, I was worried something bad might happen!”
Wu Heng, taking the knife, wrapped it in a red cloth. “Uncle Luo, you found this at a grave, right? A fresh one. Call the police.”
Butcher Luo’s face paled, and Wu Su had to support him, preventing him from collapsing.
He no longer wanted the knife and immediately went to call the police. Wu Su, handing him a cigarette, the two men went outside to smoke and make the call.
Zheng Feiran dreamt of the accident again, but this time, it was clearer.
He was in a ride-hailing car, on his way to the academy, when another passenger, wearing sunglasses, got in and sat beside him.
Zheng Feiran was confused, “Driver, isn’t this a private ride? Not a carpool?”
The driver, also confused, “What are you talking about, kid? There’s no one else here.”
Zheng Feiran: “?”
He turned to look at the passenger, his face obscured by the dark glasses, his skin pale, deathly white.
But there clearly was another person!
“Driver, is he a friend? You could have just asked, there’s no need to…”
The driver was annoyed, turning around to see what he was talking about, “Nonsense! There’s no one else here!”
Suddenly, their world turned dark. A truck was falling towards them. Zheng Feiran instinctively leaned away, towards the other passenger, his face now inches from his, and he saw the empty sockets beneath the sunglasses. His heart almost stopped as a clawed hand reached out and grabbed his eyes, and then, darkness.
“No! Stop!” Zheng Feiran screamed, sitting up abruptly, drenched in sweat, as if he had just stepped out of a sauna, his eyes open, still blind, but he heard sirens from the phone.
[Awake? Just a ten-minute nap, a bad dream?]
[What happened with that butcher’s knife? Found near a grave, stolen by some spirit?]
Zheng Feiran wiped the sweat from his forehead, his voice trembling, “That’s… not how it happened…”
He hadn’t argued with the driver. The police investigation concluded that the truck driver, fatigued, had accidentally swerved into their lane.
