Director Qian said earnestly.
After what Director Qian had said, Nong Zhiwen indeed felt very guilty. He couldn't delay his father's treatment because of financial concerns. The disease had been treated to this extent—was it really just the last bit of money holding them back? Clenching his teeth, Nong Zhiwen decided he needed to find another way.
"You'd better think it over. If you're really strapped for cash, we could cut some corners, take a more passive approach. He's already in his fifties, right? We could just do a simple nerve repair to improve the symptoms. As for the rest, it's unfortunate, but there's no helping it; I understand. But if you can somehow come up with the money, I think you shouldn't handle it in a negligent way. You should treat it seriously. Your father is only in his fifties, and you children are so filial, right? Grit your teeth and this amount of money can be dealt with—but it's a life you are saving."
Director Qian guided him kindly.
