Colorful years

Their gnarled branches stretch out as they please, sometimes spreading out in all directions, sometimes standing tall as if chasing the sunlight in the sky.

Overall, it looks like two giant parasols spread out there, creating a wide expanse of green shade, enough to accommodate dozens of people to cool off and rest.

Congcong and his friends arrived at the chestnut tree one after another and saw that the chestnuts scattered all over the ground looked like awakened elves, tumbling and jumping in the wind.

The children were captivated by the unexpected sight, their eyes fixed on the scattered chestnuts on the ground, and they excitedly picked them up.

They carefully placed each pearl chestnut in their hands, as if collecting a precious treasure.

However, at that moment, a dry branch as thick as a bowl suddenly fell from the sky, striking Congcong squarely on the head. Instantly, blood gushed from the wound, staining his forehead and cheeks red. Congcong suddenly blacked out, lost consciousness, and collapsed to the ground.

This sudden turn of events was like a bolt from the blue, instantly terrifying the other friends into a state of utter panic!

Their eyes widened, their faces filled with astonishment and fear, as if they were witnessing the end of the world. Then, instinct drove them to scatter like frightened birds, fleeing from the horrific scene.

Just then, fortune smiled upon Congcong. Several kind-hearted people who happened to be passing by witnessed this tragic scene. Their hearts clenched, and without thinking twice, they rushed towards Shi Daya, who was busy harvesting corn in Sangshuwan, wanting to warn her as soon as possible.

When Shi Daya received the devastating news that Congcong was seriously injured, her heart felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer. Her face turned pale, and she froze.

Just moments later, the power of maternal love brought her back to her senses. Without hesitation, she dropped the half-full basket in her hand and ran frantically toward the scene of the accident.

Along the way, Shi Daya's heart pounded, and her breathing became rapid, but she dared not stop for a moment. Finally, when she arrived at the scene, panting heavily, the sight before her eyes tore at her heart—Congcong lay quietly in a pool of blood, his face deathly pale, barely breathing, his life hanging by a thread. Fortunately, the wound on his right forehead, more than an inch long, was closing and had stopped bleeding.

With a heart full of anxiety, Shi Daya picked up her injured son and ran like the wind to the hospital. Her heart was pounding, and large beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, but she dared not stop for a moment.

In the 1970s, the medical conditions at the commune hospital were extremely rudimentary. A few dilapidated bungalows served as wards, containing a few somewhat worn-out beds; medical equipment was also scarce, consisting of only some of the most basic tools and medicines.

As for medical expertise, it was extremely limited, with doctors mostly relying on experience to diagnose and treat diseases.

Upon arrival at the hospital, emergency treatment began. A nurse quickly brought over a bottle of alcohol and used a cotton ball to apply it to the wound on the child's head, removing surface dirt and blood.

Then, the doctor skillfully opened a box of Huang'an ointment, squeezed out some and applied it evenly to the wound, and then gently sprinkled a small handful of Huang'an powder on it.

After doing all this, the doctor picked up a roll of clean white gauze and carefully bandaged the child's head.

The nurse then administered tetanus shot and painkillers to the child. That concluded the emergency treatment. The subsequent treatment plan involved returning to the hospital every three days for dressing changes; no other special procedures were followed.

Lying on the hospital bed, Congcong kept his eyes closed, but the terrifying scene kept replaying in his mind—the thick tree branch, like a ferocious python, roared down towards his head.

In that breathtaking moment, everything seemed to freeze.

……

At this moment, Congcong could still feel a faint pain in his forehead, and the edges of the bandage were already stained with a few drops of blood. The familiar yet pungent smell of disinfectant filled the air, making him feel nauseous and uncomfortable.

He turned to look out the window. It was already late, and the afterglow of the setting sun shone through the window into the ward, bringing a touch of warmth and hope.

Mother Shi Daya was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Congcong's hands tightly, her eyes full of exhaustion and worry.

When she saw Congcong wake up, a flash of joy appeared in her eyes, and tears streamed down her face. "Congcong, you're finally awake! You scared me to death, you know?" she said, her voice choked with sobs, filled with endless grievance and lingering fear.

Congcong looked at his mother, a warm feeling welling up in his heart.

He tried to force a smile to comfort his mother, but his lips were too dry to make a sound.

Seeing this, Shi Daya quickly picked up a water cup and carefully fed him water. Every sip was like sweet rain, moistening Congcong's parched throat.

When the grandparents saw Congcong wake up, their sorrow turned to joy.

Grandma burst into tears, her hands trembling as she stroked Congcong's face, murmuring, "My dear grandson, you've finally woken up! Grandma was so worried."

Grandpa stood to the side, his hands behind his back, tears glistening in his eyes, but a faint smile playing on his lips.

He knew that Congcong waking up was the greatest blessing.

During the subsequent treatment, Congcong experienced unprecedented psychological challenges.

Every time he changed his dressing, the gauze stuck to the wound, causing him intense pain and making him groan involuntarily.

But Congcong never cried. He clenched his teeth and gripped the edge of the bed tightly with both hands, letting the sweat soak the sheets.

He knew he couldn't be weak, and he couldn't let his family worry.

Whenever it's late at night and everyone is asleep, Congcong would lie in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling.

He recalled the moment the withered branch hit him, and his heart was filled with fear and helplessness.

He began to contemplate the fragility and preciousness of life, and why he had encountered such misfortune.

But gradually, he came to understand that every setback in life is an opportunity for growth, and every hardship is a test of will. So, Congcong began to actively cooperate with the doctor's treatment.