novelraw Chapter 136 Tian Xiaoli
Chapter 136 Tian Xiaoli
42!
That eerie number… had appeared again.
Jiang Ran stared fixedly at the nameplate on the hospital ward door, looking at the number floating above Tian Xiaoli’s name, and in an instant recalled what Qin Feng had once said.
Don’t believe 42.
42 is correct.
Follow 42.
42 is yourself.
At this moment, what exactly was this “42” supposed to mean?
Jiang Ran couldn’t determine whether this number—something perfectly reasonable in everyday life, yet persistently haunting his surroundings—was merely coincidence, or if it truly carried some kind of meaning.
But even if it did have meaning, intent, direction…Should he believe it?
He didn’t understand…
He couldn’t tell what was real and what was not…
He couldn’t comprehend it…
The elusive nature of 42 threw Jiang Ran’s thoughts into disarray, leaving him unable to think clearly.
“Xiao Jiang?”
Old Tian, walking ahead, turned around and looked at him in confusion.
“What’s wrong? Is there something on the door?”
Jiang Ran fell silent, then shook his head.
“No. I just… saw your daughter’s name.”
For now, he pushed aside the matter of the mysterious number 42. He wiped the corners of his eyes, followed behind Old Tian, and stepped into the rehabilitation ward.
It was a very ordinary room, with two hospital beds inside—one near the door, one by the window.
The bed near the door was unoccupied. So on the paper nameplate at the entrance, there was only one name: Tian Xiaoli.
The ward was very quiet. The sound of Jiang Ran and Old Tian’s footsteps was clearly audible.
The two of them walked to the bed by the window.
Old Tian couldn’t stop himself from sniffing. He wiped the tip of his nose.
“This… is my daughter…”
Jiang Ran looked toward the bed.
It was…
A state that was difficult to describe.
The girl lying on the bed was startling to look at—yet also frighteningly thin.
Every part of her body was skin stretched over bone. There wasn’t the slightest trace of muscle. Her proportions were also somewhat abnormal, giving off a strange impression, as if… as if… [atrophied].
She wore a clean hospital gown, without a single wrinkle—clearly showing no signs of movement.
The moment Jiang Ran noticed this detail, his heart thumped, and a sense of foreboding surged up instantly.
Several wires extended from the sleeves and the opening at her chest, connecting to a cluster of nearby machines. The instruments monitored various data; among them, the heart-rate module was as calm as still water, with almost no fluctuation at all—representing an extremely stable heartbeat.
Jiang Ran suddenly realized something…
The clothes showed no signs of movement.
Her limbs had no muscle.
Her height had severely shrunk.
Her heart rate was steady, without fluctuation.
Clearly, Old Tian’s daughter—
[was a comatose vegetative patient.]
Looking further up—
The girl’s face was gaunt and pale, her age impossible to discern. In some places she looked as old as an elderly person; in others, as youthful as a young girl. Due to being bedridden for so long, the back of her head had visibly flattened and deformed… making her pitiful to behold.
A few days ago, when Old Tian had mentioned his daughter, he had only said she was ill and undergoing rehabilitation.
Jiang Ran hadn’t thought much of it at the time, assuming it was some kind of chronic illness.
He never would have imagined…
That Old Tian’s daughter was in a vegetative state!
And judging from the condition, she had been like this for many years.
“Your daughter… she…”
Jiang Ran asked cautiously:
“How long… has she been like this?”
“Ten years.”
Old Tian’s eyes reddened, his voice hoarse.
“My daughter is actually older than you. She was very beautiful, and taller than others her age. But look at her… look at her now…”
His arms trembled as he gestured a width of just over a meter.
“Now she’s only… this small.”
Tears fell in an instant.
Such is the heart of a parent.
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Jiang Ran would have found it hard to believe that a burly Northeastern man like Old Tian could break down in just a few seconds, choking with sobs, tears streaming down his face.
Jiang Ran stepped forward, patted his shoulder, and said nothing.
During this time, across two worldlines, he had directly and indirectly witnessed too many scenes of life and death, of partings and farewells. Now, faced with Old Tian’s situation, he could truly empathize.
“When I was young—ever since I was a kid—my family was poor.”
Old Tian wiped his tears and continued:
“Our luck was bad too. It felt like someone was always sick—this person or that person—and every year there was a funeral.”
“Before I even got married, my father died. After my child was born, my mother passed away from illness. My only brother died of a heart attack. My wife was always frail… and after my daughter fell from the roof… she developed a mental illness, and in the end, drank pesticide… drank…”
His voice trembled. He couldn’t continue.
Jiang Ran put an arm around his shoulders.
“That’s enough. Don’t force yourself.”
He tried to stop Old Tian from going on. Just listening to it was painful—let alone making the person relive it.
“If only I had been home that day.”
Old Tian wiped his face with his sleeve.
“My wife wasn’t in good health, so most of the housework was done by my daughter. That day she went to move the sauce drying on the roof, slipped… and fell headfirst.”
“I shouldn’t have gone out to work! But if I didn’t earn money, I couldn’t support the family, couldn’t treat my wife’s illness, couldn’t send my daughter to school.” When I heard she had fallen, my mind exploded. By the time I stumbled back home… my daughter was already in the hospital being rescued, and my wife was lying on the ground, crying like she’d lost her soul.”
He took a deep breath.
Slowly exhaled.
“After that, Lili became like this—unconscious, a vegetative patient. My wife, because of the psychological shock, went completely mad… and in the end, unable to bear the guilt, she ran far away from home and drank a bottle of pesticide… She couldn’t be saved…”
Jiang Ran waited patiently for Old Tian to calm down.
Then he pulled over a chair and helped him sit.
“And… what did the doctors say about your daughter?”
Old Tian sniffed and shook his head.
“From the very beginning, they said the brain damage was extremely severe, and the chance of waking up was very, very small…”
“But as a parent, no matter how small the chance, I can’t give up.”
“In this world, I only have my daughter left. If she’s gone, then I won’t go on living either!”
“There’s still hope,” Jiang Ran quickly reassured him.
“There are many cases in this world where vegetative patients eventually wake up. You’re right, Old Tian—no matter how small the probability, as long as it exists, it will happen!”
“Ah…”
Old Tian let out a long sigh.
“To be honest, the doctor spoke to me privately. He’s a good man—helped me apply for subsidies, insurance, and so on… But he also advised me privately. He said that in the hospital, they can’t speak too absolutely, but outside…”
“He told me, very tactfully, [Lili has absolutely no chance of waking up.]”
“The doctor said her brain damage is too severe. There’s only one outcome: in a prolonged vegetative state, her brain will continue to atrophy, her functions will keep deteriorating. Eventually… one day, she will quietly die.”
“This year alone, we’ve received several critical condition notices. Lili has stopped breathing many times. If the hospital hadn’t rescued her in time… ah.” I’ve also looked into a lot of information, consulted experts all over the country. They all say that for someone like Lili, who has been unconscious for ten years… the fact that she’s still alive is already a miracle. Waking up is completely impossible.”
“But how could I just give up on my own daughter? To tell you the truth, Xiao Jiang… all these years, I don’t even know what the meaning of my life is anymore. I just keep living like this, numbing myself.”
“It’s a little easier when I don’t come to the hospital. Over the years, I’ve more or less gotten used to it. But once I come here, I can’t control my emotions… Sorry, you had to see that.”
Jiang Ran lowered his head, then looked again at the girl on the bed—[Tian Xiaoli].
She was someone who should have been older than him. Under normal circumstances, by now she would already be married, perhaps with children, living a busy yet fulfilling life.
But the reality was that she had been lying here, in this vegetative state, for ten years.
Ten years.
Just a few days ago, he had been discussing this very topic in the laboratory with Fang Ze and Cheng Mengxue.
Both Cheng Mengxue and Professor Yan Chonghan had said that the longer a person remained in a vegetative state, the slimmer the chance of awakening.
Especially after five years—cruel as it might sound, the possibility of waking up was essentially nonexistent.
And Old Tian’s daughter had been unconscious for ten years. Her brain must have atrophied beyond recognition.
As the doctors had said, respiratory arrest and the loss of brainstem function were only a matter of time…
Misfortune always strikes the most fragile.
Old Tian’s life was even more tragic than the protagonist Fugui from To Live.
“Is it… expensive to stay here?”
Jiang Ran gestured around the ward, wondering if he could help Old Tian financially.
Old Tian shook his head.
“With insurance and special subsidies, it comes out to 174 yuan per day. My salary at Donghai University is enough to cover it.” I eat at the cafeteria, live in the school boiler room—I don’t spend much. I still have savings every month.”
“How I live doesn’t matter… I’m just worried… what will happen to my daughter in the future?”
Old Tian lowered his head, clutching his hair.
Jiang Ran looked at him, his heart struggling.
Yes.
He thought of Professor Yan Chonghan’s research project—
[Consciousness Upload].
It was a potential salvation for vegetative and comatose patients: extracting their consciousness and memory from the brain, allowing them to exist within servers or the network world as [digital life].
If the experiment succeeded, those who lay unconscious could become an “online user” in the network—possessing awareness, memory, self-judgment, and the ability to communicate.
Jiang Ran felt that the term “online user” was very fitting.
Although Fang Ze had jokingly called it an “electronic pet” during a private discussion, Jiang Ran found that analogy deeply disrespectful.
An online user—
Someone you could chat with anytime, video call anytime, share your thoughts with anytime, yet never meet in real life.
That was how he understood [Consciousness Upload] and [digital life].
But…
He hesitated.
Should he tell Old Tian about this?
There were three main concerns:
First, the technology was immature. The probability of failure was high. And if it failed, the brain would suffer irreversible damage—resulting in death, completely eliminating any remaining chance of Tian Xiaoli waking up.
Second, Jiang Ran himself could not fully accept this kind of “online user” existence. He believed that consciousness detached from the body did not necessarily represent the original person. So he wasn’t sure whether this would actually harm Old Tian—and Tian Xiaoli.
Third, the mysterious number 42 had appeared on the ward nameplate. Tian Xiaoli, by coincidence, was patient number 42 in the rehabilitation ward.
What did this 42 mean?
Was it urging him to boldly take the risk?
Or warning him not to believe—to stay far away?
All these concerns…
Made it impossible for Jiang Ran to decide.
But in the end…
He still chose to help Old Tian.
The final decision would, of course, belong to Old Tian. Jiang Ran would only provide him with an additional option.
After all, as Professor Zhang Yang had said, Professor Yan Chonghan—being a professor at Dartmouth—was someone they would never have had the chance to meet, if not for Zhang Yang’s accident that had broken his leg.
Jiang Ran believed that.
But perhaps this was fate.
If he had never met Professor Yan, he would never have known about technologies like [Consciousness Upload] and [digital life]. And naturally, he wouldn’t be able to tell Old Tian about them now.
So—
One more option. One more path.
And Professor Yan also needed volunteers.
If Old Tian was willing to take the risk, it would not be a bad outcome for either side.
If he wasn’t willing, that would also be perfectly understandable—then Jiang Ran would simply act as if he had never said anything.
After making up his mind, Jiang Ran spoke:
“Old Tian.”
He said softly:
“There’s a top university in the United States called Dartmouth. There’s a technology there…”
Then, Jiang Ran explained Professor Yan Chonghan’s project in full detail.
He did not hide anything. He did not embellish anything.
He laid out everything objectively—the advantages, the disadvantages, the difficulties, the fatal risks.
Everything was left to Old Tian’s own choice.
“Th-this… is it reliable?”
Perhaps it was difficult for Old Tian to fully understand; he listened in a daze.
But his reaction was perfectly normal:
“The risk is too big. I don’t dare take it… And Jiang Ran, I’ve asked many experts in hospitals—none of them have ever mentioned something like this. Where did you hear about it?”
“From my teacher.”
Jiang Ran answered honestly.
“My teacher, Yan Chonghan, is a professor at Dartmouth. This is his research project.”
Old Tian fell silent for a moment.
Then slowly shook his head.
“Your teacher…”
Perhaps out of trust in Jiang Ran, his expression gradually became more serious.
“Xiao Jiang… then what do you think? Is this method… reliable?”
“To be honest, I can’t guarantee anything.”
Jiang Ran said seriously:
“I’m just a beginner in research myself, especially in a completely unfamiliar field like this—I wouldn’t dare speak carelessly.” How about this, Old Tian—if you want to understand it in detail… I can act as an intermediary and connect you with Professor Yan?” You can ask him anything directly. He’ll explain everything clearly.”
“But… just like I said, this technology is far from mature. The risks are huge. You must think carefully before making a decision!”
Old Tian wiped the corner of his clothes.
As if making a major decision, he nodded.
“Alright. Then I’ll trouble you, Jiang Ran.”
“What’s your phone number? I’ll call you—I’m free during the day… at night too. Once you arrange a time with Professor Yan, just let me know.”
After exchanging phone numbers, Jiang Ran reminded him again:
“Old Tian, you must think this through. Don’t rush into a decision. If there’s anything you don’t understand, or you’re unsure about, come discuss it with me.”
“Don’t worry.”
Old Tian nodded and smiled faintly.
“This is my precious daughter. I won’t gamble with her life. Honestly… I’ll probably not choose the option you mentioned.” But… it doesn’t hurt to listen, to understand. If something urgent ever happens in the future, at least there will be another option.”
“In any case… I’ll first go meet… that Professor Yan.”