Wen Yan looked at the sleeping baby, and the complicated emotions in his heart couldn’t calm down for a while.
He reached out a finger and gently touched this little one, trying to bestow a bit of warm Yang Energy, and sure enough, it worked without any hindrance.
Looking at Pei Tugou’s wife, her face full of exhaustion, she glanced at Wen Yan, then at the silent Pei Tugou, hesitated for a mont, but didn’t stop him.
"Don’t worry, he’s not in any serious condition, he’s almost recovered."
Pei Tugou’s wife carried the little one to the ward, while Wen Yan chatted with Pei Tugou outside.
Wen Yan only said that he would find a specialist to have a look later, and Pei Tugou handed the dical record to Wen Yan.
Looking at the record book, only Pei Tugou’s na was there—there was no na for the child, so Wen Yan asked Pei Tugou directly.
Pei Tugou’s face showed hesitation, looking a bit conflicted.
"This child is frail and sickly. Since I picked him up, he’s spent most of his ti in the hospital.
The doctor said he probably wasn’t born full-term, born weak.
My mother says, whether we can raise this child to one year old is already a question, so best not to give him a na.
If you give a na, you’ll get attached later, and it will only make the family suffer more.
But now, let’s just do our best. We can only do as much as we can manage.
I picked him up—it’s fate. I can’t just harden my heart and ignore him.
If he makes it to one year old, then we’ll na him."
Wen Yan suddenly understood. He more or less understood after hearing Pei Tugou’s accent—sounded like soone from the Northern Divine Land. There really are so places up north with this kind of custom.
For frail and sickly infants, they won’t be given a formal na, only a nickna, like the old-fashioned humble nas, hoping for the child to easily survive.
And in so places, there really is a custom—anything picked up.
If it’s just an object, once nad, it won’t be thrown away.
If it’s a living thing, once nad, it becos part of the family, signifying responsibility. As long as the family has a bite to eat, they’ll share it with every family mber.
Wen Yan had once helped a family with a funeral and t a family with a yellow ox that had lived for forty years.
Decades ago, that yellow ox was the main source of labor for the family. The whole family’s yearly grain depended on that ox plowing the fields. Back then, the yellow ox was given a na.
Later, when the family’s situation improved and they no longer needed the ox to plow, the ox also grew old, and they kept caring for it.
When the yellow ox lived out all forty years and passed away, they treated it as a family mber and even held a proper funeral, giving it a formal burial, as a gesture of gratitude for the ox’s decades of hard work, feeding a whole household and keeping them all from starving.
A na isn’t sothing you just give lightly.
It’s like in so places, there are tales about Huang Pi Zi demanding rituals—many things can’t be agreed to easily. If you agree, and give them a na, you have to take on the responsibility.
Of course, Pei Tugou definitely hadn’t thought that far. They didn’t na the child simply out of fear that, if the sickly little one didn’t pull through, they’d be too emotionally invested, and also just hoping for a good on.
"My mother says, elders believe that with no na, King Yan can’t take down that na, so there’s a chance the child can grow up safe and sound."
When Pei Tugou ntioned the old lady’s reasoning, he himself didn’t really believe it, but still couldn’t help hoping it was true.
Wen Yan nodded. These were so of the most sincere and simple wishes. Ordinary people, maybe don’t understand so much, but when facing hardship, they’ll still find sothing—real or not—to support their hopes. Whether it’s true or false doesn’t even matter anymore.
No one will dig too deep to find out if it’s true or not.
Even the faintest hope is still better than having none at all.
Wen Yan opened the dical record book and looked at its contents.
Nowadays, handwritten entries in dical records are rare, mostly various printouts and a good number of test reports pasted in.
Wen Yan looked at the ti on the first report, did a quick calculation—it was a whole four hours earlier than the Scorching Sun Departnt’s predicted ti for the Soul Devouring Beast’s appearance.
And accounting for Pei Tugou picking up the child, noticing sothing was wrong, bringing him to the hospital, registering and waiting for checkups, that would push it back at least another hour.
That is to say, when everyone was preoccupied, fighting life and death, making all this fuss, the little one had always been in Duanzhou, always right under everyone’s nose.
Carrying the sensitive identity of an abandoned baby, and even so, no one noticed at all.
Because Pei Tugou never even called the police at all. Out of simple moral instinct, his first thought when he found the baby seed sick was simply to get him treated.
And at the hospital, they treated him right away too. With no na, they just wrote the guardian’s na first.
No birth certificate or anything, but they just treated him first regardless.
Pei Tugou said he picked up the child, and since the boy was frail and sickly, the old doctor who’d seen it all imdiately filled in the backstory—a miserable life, and so didn’t ask much or ddle further.
The old pediatrician had seen all kinds of people, and at a glance could tell, this child being found by this family was already terrific luck.
The doctors in this hospital—if they had reported it to the police, it might not actually have been good for the child.
So, everything just went on smoothly like this.
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