Chapter 19 — I Return From The Deep

His whole body seemed to be broken by these two words. Bend your back. Forehead almost touches knees. Letting out a dull moan——not sure if it was a sob or a gasp. I stood up. Go to the door. Open the door.

“Go away.”

He didn't move. I waited exactly 1 minute.

“Jiang Tu Hanh, I'm very tired. I have to rest.”

He finally raised his head. Slowly stand up. As he walked out the door and passed me, he stopped half a step. Tilt your face, wanting to look at me. I looked away. His hand lifted slightly——as if he wanted to touch me. Then let it down again. Then walk out the door. I closed the door. Lock latch. Lean your back against the door. Slowly slide to the floor. Hug the pillow. Don't cry. Just very tired. Really so tired.

—

【Chapter 8】 The results of the sixth week follow-up examination are available. Wen Ruo Duong accompanied me to get the report—now you not only help me with Ms. Zhao's matter, you have become my friend. Someone over 50 years old, every time I see him, he has to pat my head. Just like Ms. Trieu the day before. The doctor treating the Oncology Department hung the film on the light box and showed it to me.

“Here——the tumor volume has shrunk by about 15%.”

I was stunned. “Shrink?” The doctor nodded, the corners of his mouth carrying a smile. "The combination regimen responded well to her tumor. Although the margin is not very large, for end-stage patients, this is a very positive sign." My hands clutched the hem of my pants until I was tired. On Nhuoc Duong stood next to me and patted my back.

“So next…” I opened my mouth, my voice a bit drifting.

“Continue treatment. Follow the current protocol for another 6 to 8 weeks, observe the response. If the reduction continues——there is a chance of moving to a operable state.”

Surgery is possible. These four words exploded in my head. Leaving the clinic door, On Nhuoc Duong held my hand tightly. She did not say any empty words of encouragement. Just hold it very tightly. I bowed my head and took a deep breath. The air smells of disinfectant. But at that moment, I realized that this smell was no longer that difficult to smell. Return to the apartment at night. Sit blankly on the sofa for a while. Take out your phone and text Luc Tham.

"Go for a follow-up exam today. The tumor has shrunk 15%."

He responded very quickly. "Good." Ten seconds later, another message. "What do you want to eat tonight? I'll bring it over." I looked at the phone screen, the corner of my mouth suddenly raised. "Whatever. Buy it yourself."

“Okay.”

He brought a portion of frugal seafood porridge and two plates of side dishes. Sitting across from me at the dining table, watching me eat. My appetite still hasn't improved, but that day I tried to eat more than half a bowl of porridge. While he cleaned up the dishes, I leaned back in my chair and looked at him.

“Luc Tham.”

“Yes.”

“If… I can survive.”

His movement of washing dishes stopped. Don't turn around. "YES."

“How can I pay you for these things?”

He turned on the faucet and dried his hands. Turn around. Leaning back against the kitchen table, arms crossed over chest. Look at me.

“If you survive,” he said. "Then you just live your life kindly. You don't need to pay me anything."

I looked into his eyes. That look under the pale yellow light of the kitchen was much gentler than usual. There is no usual sharpness. There is only calmness and steadfastness. I looked away. Heart beats a bit fast. Not due to illness. But because of something else.

“…Oh.” An extremely embarrassing response.

He laughed. Say nothing more. Clean up your things and go home. The door closed, I sat on the sofa and touched my face. Hot flashes. The days continue to pass. Treatment continues. His health gradually recovered—although slowly, it was definitely getting better. The frequency of coughing up blood is significantly reduced. Shortness of breath also improved. The hair still fell out, but I bought a beanie, and that was it. Ms. Trieu's story is also gradually ending.