This Doctor Is Too Wealthy

Zhao Bin might have been worked up, or perhaps this incident truly struck a nerve with the Zhao family.

While initially just recounting the events, he unexpectedly began to express his personal feelings.

"President Du, you have no idea. Zhao Qiang's mom is almost sixty. Her own son got divorced, and now he's in this state. Yet, she's still over there, having married her daughter's father-in-law, serving her son-in-law's grandparents, while completely ignoring her own son! Is that something a human being could do?"

Du Heng wasn't swayed by Zhao Bin's words; instead, he picked up on something different in the account. "You said Zhao Qiang was married? Does he have any children?"

Hearing Du Heng's question, Zhao Bin shook his head helplessly and said, utterly exasperated, "This is another bizarre story. You know, Zhao Qiang's marriage was arranged by his mother three months after she herself remarried. She introduced him to a divorced woman with a three-year-old boy. He even married into her family, becoming a live-in son-in-law. But Zhao Qiang was only twenty-three at the time! I really don't understand that family."

"About half a year later, Zhao Qiang had an accident, and his skullcap was gone. The woman then sent him packing. Two months after that, she remarried her ex-husband."

His worldview and cognition are completely shattered, Du Heng felt, smashed to pieces. Even today's melodramatic TV dramas wouldn't dare script such an outrageous plot.

Half a year after her father died, the daughter introduced her mother to her own father-in-law. The mother remarried, and then essentially arranged for her son to be married off too.

The old saying goes: a foolish father makes one fool; a foolish mother, a whole nest of them. Du Heng hadn't believed it before, but after hearing this story today, I have no choice but to.

Just as Du Heng was about to say something, the sound of an aluminum alloy door opening came from behind them.

The two turned to see the door of the house behind them open, and an indescribable young man emerged.

His hair was dry, dull, and matted in patches; it was somewhat long, reaching his shoulders.

His dazed eyes were one thing; his face, either unusually hairy or unwashed for a long time, looked rather dark.

He's utterly filthy, Du Heng thought, not just visually, but on a spiritual level too.

Wang Shiyuan was like him, also classified as an extremely impoverished household requiring assistance from poverty alleviation programs.

But Wang Shiyuan just evoked a sense of poverty—simply a lack of money.

This man, however, gives me the impression not just of poverty, but of utter destitution, Du Heng observed. It's not a condition stemming merely from a lack of money, but a powerlessness seeping directly from his spirit and psyche.

People often use the words 'poor' and 'destitute' together, Du Heng mused. But now, seeing Zhao Qiang and comparing him to Wang Shiyuan, I realize they're entirely different concepts. Being 'poor' is simply lacking money. Being 'destitute' means lacking the ability to labor. Combined into 'impoverished,' I think the term describes not just a material state, but more profoundly, a spiritual one.

Zhao Bin also heard the sound. Turning, he saw Zhao Qiang emerge, and his brow furrowed deeply.

A hint of disgust and anger tinged his voice. "Zhao Qiang, you're home?"

Zhao Qiang, emerging from the doorway, glanced at Du Heng and Zhao Bin with an extremely indifferent, vacant look and said lazily, "I'm home."

"I knocked. Didn't you hear?"

"Heard it."

"Then why didn't you come out? Couldn't even make a sound?" Zhao Bin felt like he was about to explode.

Zhao Qiang, however, still looked completely unconcerned and said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "I was doing cross-stitch."

"I... you..." Zhao Bin stammered, struggling for words.

If I weren't here, Du Heng thought, Zhao Bin might have cursed Zhao Qiang's ancestors eighteen generations back, even if it meant cursing his own in the process. Judging by Zhao Bin's current state, he probably couldn't express his fury any other way.

Zhao Bin was furious, and Du Heng felt a similar irritation, even having the urge to turn and leave. What a character!

However, I need to remember who I am and why I'm here today, Du Heng reminded himself, striving to suppress his emotions and face the man he was supposed to help with a calm demeanor.

"Zhao Qiang, right? My name is Du Heng. I'm from the township's Poverty Alleviation Work Group. I'm here today to talk with you, to see if there's any way we can help."

Zhao Qiang stood with his hands in his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes were dazed, and his chin was tilted slightly upward as he slowly walked towards Du Heng.

That expression... Du Heng couldn't describe it. It seems to hold disdain, impatience, ridicule, and more. It's so complicated, indescribable. But it makes anyone watching feel a surge of anger shoot from the soles of their feet to the crown of their head.

As Zhao Qiang drew nearer, Du Heng, despite the low earthen wall between them, got a clearer look at his condition.

He was truly filthy, especially his hair. It wasn't just oily from not being washed; it was coarse and dull, matted with a mixture of scalp oil, dust, and dirt.

What struck Du Heng most, however, was the right side of Zhao Qiang's head: it was visibly caved in. As Zhao Qiang breathed, the sunken area actually rose and fell, as if his very brain were breathing. His face was shiny with oil, covered in a grimy mixture of dead skin and fine dust, though his underlying complexion was somewhat discernible. But from his chin down, and his exposed arms... the state was indescribable. These things aren't the most important, nor what I should be focused on, Du Heng thought. Then he noticed the swelling on Zhao Qiang's face. Are there complications?

"Is the government going to give me money for surgery?" Zhao Qiang asked Du Heng directly, with an air of complete entitlement.

Du Heng didn't answer, instead asking, "Do you know how much skull repair surgery costs?"

"I know. About 150,000 yuan."

"That's a lot of money. Why do you think the government should give it to you?"

Zhao Qiang smirked again, an 'I knew it' expression on his face. "If you're not giving money, then why did you come?"

Suddenly, Du Heng felt no other emotion, just a sense of amusement.

I only came to help him, Du Heng thought. If he's willing to accept help and genuinely wants to change his current life, I wouldn't mind putting in more effort. But if he's going to be like this, and he himself isn't concerned, then why should an outsider like me be?

Honestly, if I were to turn around and leave right now, my conscience would be perfectly clear, without the slightest burden.

This sudden clarity brought a faint smile to Du Heng's face. "Zhao Qiang, can I ask you a few questions?"

"Go ahead."

"The old house in the yard collapsed. Why haven't you cleaned it up?"

Zhao Qiang glanced back. "I wanted to, but whenever I try to do even a little work, especially if I bend my head down, it hurts so much I can't stand it. I also get dizzy, like the world is spinning."

Du Heng glanced again at the missing portion of Zhao Qiang's skull. Watching the exposed brain pulsate with each breath, I feel deeply unsettled, he thought.