**Chapter 762: Yet Another Poor Soul**
Hu Jiasheng moved through the corridor, observing his surroundings.
Each patient had a plastic hook stuck to the wall above their heads, IV bags dangling from them like bizarre ornaments.
*Couldn’t this hospital spare a proper infusion room?* he thought, grimacing. *What if some higher-up decides to inspect this dump?*
Pushing past the crowd, he finally spotted the nurses’ station—a large glass window with three overworked nurses inside, busily preparing medications and inserting needles. Behind them stood two massive shelves filled with labeled bottles, each bearing a patient’s name for subsequent IV rounds.
After waiting his turn, Hu Jiasheng stepped forward.
The nurse checked his medication, then his name, before finally looking up at him.
Once. Twice.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Working in this dim, geriatric-dominated hellhole, she probably hadn’t seen a decent-looking man in years.
She tugged down her mask, revealing a round, youthful face.
*"What seems to be the issue?"* she asked in smooth Mandarin, her tone noticeably softer.
Hu Jiasheng wordlessly lifted his injured arm.
She gestured for him to enter the station, found him a seat, and crouched before him with exaggerated gentleness to insert the IV.
His hands were immaculate—slender, smooth, with perfectly rounded nails. The kind that belonged in luxury watch commercials. The gleaming timepiece on his wrist only accentuated their elegance.
The nurse hesitated, almost reluctant to puncture such perfection.
After securing the needle with excessive care, she informed him he didn’t have to squeeze in with the commoners outside—there *was* a dedicated infusion room.
Seeing his confusion, she offered to escort him.
As they walked side by side, her holding his IV bag aloft, resentful murmurs rose from the elderly crowd:
*"Ah, youth and good looks sure get special treatment."*
*"Wouldn’t even spare us a glance, but for him? She practically kneels."*
*"Bet her mother would faint if she saw her daughter throwing herself at strangers like this."*
Only then did Hu Jiasheng realize—what he considered subpar service was *privileged* in others’ eyes.
---
The "infusion room" turned out to be opposite the restrooms.
A single flickering bulb illuminated its dingy interior, where disheveled middle-aged men sat sprawled in various states of undress—shirts rolled up to expose hairy bellies, feet propped on chairs, shoes discarded. One puffed on a cigarette between coughs.
Hu Jiasheng took one look and turned on his heel.
*"I’ll take my chances with the hallway crowd."*
On their way back, the nurse apologized profusely—*"We’re underfunded, what can we do?"*—but he tuned her out.
No seats remained in the corridor. The nurse fetched him a stool, only to face another dilemma:
The makeshift IV hooks were personal property. Brought from home, taken back daily. None to spare.
Hu Jiasheng, desperate to leave, insisted: *"I’ll hold the bag myself. It’s just two small bottles."*
*"That’ll take an hour! Your arm will go numb!"*
The onlookers stared blankly, offering no solutions.
Just as Hu Jiasheng resigned himself to discomfort, a girl stood from the crowd.
Black T-shirt, black shorts, black ponytail. Only her dark eyes were visible above the medical mask.
*"You can share my hook."*
He recognized her instantly—the ride-share driver from yesterday. An IV needle taped to her own hand suggested the rain had claimed another victim.
Following her gesture, he spotted her ingenious setup:
Above her hung a corroded *"Integrity and Justice"* plaque, its corners nailed to the wall. She’d looped a thick hair tie around one exposed nail, attaching a forked twig as a makeshift hook. Three branches extended outward—one held her IV bag, two remained vacant.
Hu Jiasheng almost laughed.
*This is what healthcare has come to?*
With no alternatives, he thanked her and sat down. The nurse fussed:
*"Call if you need anything! I’m Li Jing—Xiao Jing!"*
Someone snickered: *"Wow, Xiao Jing. This your boyfriend?"*
*"Yep. Met him at a blind date today. Official by tomorrow. Got a problem?"*
Silence.
As chatter resumed around them, the girl focused on her phone, making no attempt at conversation. Perfect. Hu Jiasheng closed his eyes.
---
Sometime later, her hushed phone call invaded his peace:
*"You said the insurance was straightforward when I bought it. Now you’re saying—"*
A male voice crackled through: *"We *do* cover flood damage—but only if the engine wasn’t restarted after submersion. Yours was. Denied."*
The call ended abruptly.
Within minutes, her phone rang again. A gruff man barked:
*"Where the hell are you? What’d they say? When’s the payout?"*
*"Should’ve never wasted money on your car! Wrecked it already—useless!"*
Her reply was barely audible: *"They need a few days to review. It’ll be fully covered."*
*"Better be. Bring back some beef tonight. Haven’t tasted meat in days thanks to this damn rain."*
---
**Translation Notes:**
1. **Class Satire** - The original critiques healthcare disparities through dark humor. Retained via contrasts like the nurse’s fawning vs. elderly patients’ resentment.
2. **Improvisation** - The twig IV hook epitomizes grassroots resilience. Described with tactile details (*"forked branches"*, *"hair tie"*) to visualize the absurdity.
3. **Dialogues** - The insurance call uses terse phrasing (*"Denied."*) to mirror Chinese bureaucratic bluntness. The father’s demands reflect patriarchal entitlement without over-translating.
4. **Visual Anchors** - The *"Integrity and Justice"* plaque (common in Chinese institutions) becomes ironic backdrop for healthcare failures—a nuance preserved without explanation.
5. **Pacing** - Short paragraphs during chaotic scenes (e.g., infusion room description) replicate the original’s staccato rhythm.
The chapter’s social commentary—on privilege, makeshift survival, and familial exploitation—is conveyed through precise physicality (Hu’s pristine hands vs. the driver’s DIY hook) and unvarnished dialogues. No Western euphemisms dilute the stark realities.