"What are we to do now?"
Old Lady Song slapped the heated brick bed frustratedly, but no matter how much she cried, there was no solution.
Moving to a big hospital required money, which they didn't have. The family currently only has around a thousand yuan, nowhere near enough for hospital costs.
Without money, they couldn't afford treatment for Old Mr Song.
"You'll have to decide soon."
The village doctor packed up his stuff. He had done what he could; the rest was beyond his capacity. Staying there now would be pointless.
The villagers comforted Old Lady Song with a few words and then left one by one. Only she remained alone, weeping for her sick husband. Song Dashahu, a feeble-minded man, didn't understand what was going on, unaware that it was his kick that had broken his father's leg.
Meanwhile, Tang Yuxin was still in the kitchen, carrying water and cooking as usual.
