Zhu Quanxin followed Li Xu to the clinic.
There, he saw the yellowed notebook, which exuded the inky fragrance of age.
As he caressed the handwriting with his own hands,
it was as if he could see Elder Cheng writing, stroke by careful stroke, all those years ago.
His eyes reddened with emotion.
It was a long while before he composed himself.
He solemnly began to read through the contents of the book.
He was instantly engrossed.
Utterly captivated.
At times, his brow would furrow in concentration. At others, he would clap his hands in admiration or sigh with regret. He was completely immersed in the vast, ocean-like world of Elder Cheng's medical knowledge.
He didn't snap out of it until evening, when Li Xu reminded him of the time.
"Oh my, it's gotten so late."
Zhu Quanxin apologized.
Of course, Li Xu didn't mind.
He had already taken clear photos with his phone.
He printed them out,
stapled them into two booklets,
and gave them to Zhu Quanxin.
