Medical Center. Ward.
"How's my brother doing?"
Little Mr. Robinson—the bear-petter—jumped on Adam the second he walked in, all anxious.
Adam gave him a quick rundown on his brother's condition.
"It's all my fault," Little Robinson said, clearly torn up. He and his brother were tight.
"No, honey, it's not your fault," Mrs. Little Robinson cut in, rushing to comfort him. Her scalp had been torn open by the bear but was stitched up now. "It's the tumor…"
She trailed off, hitting her limit.
To console her husband, she had to admit the malignant glioma was screwing with his judgment and behavior big-time.
And that included their whirlwind romance—Prince Charming snagging Cinderella. That fairy-tale bliss? Also part of the tumor's chaos.
Normally, a rich, handsome guy like her husband wouldn't even glance at a plain-Jane waitress like her, let alone marry her in ten days flat.
She didn't know what he was like before, but judging by his big brother's constant "what the hell" looks—and the muttered rants she'd overheard about "midlife crisis" or "why'd you marry a menopause lady?"—something was seriously off.
Still, Cinderella's happiness was too sweet to let go. Even if she suspected something was wrong, she'd rather lie to herself. Maybe she was his soulmate, right?
"About that tumor…" Dr. Shepter jumped in, smoothly pitching Adam's clinical trial idea to the Little Robinsons. He wrapped it up with, "It hasn't been tested on humans yet, but it's the right direction—and your only shot. I recommend you go for it."
"Hahaha!" Little Robinson burst out laughing, totally unbothered.
"What are the risks and side effects?" Mrs. Little Robinson asked.
Dr. Shepter glanced at Adam.
Adam nodded and took over. "Since it's a live virus, we can't control it perfectly. While it shrinks the tumor, it might damage healthy cells too. Could cause headaches. And since it's near the optic nerve, there's a chance it'll mess with his vision…"
"I'll go blind? Hahaha!" Little Robinson cracked up again.
With his wild mood swings, it's a miracle his family didn't drag him in for a checkup sooner. 😅
"It's possible," Adam said, not sugarcoating it. He glanced at Mrs. Little Robinson and added, "It could also make his emotions even more erratic—super happy one minute, or, uh… really aggressive the next."
"We'll do it," Mrs. Little Robinson said, nodding firmly despite getting the hint. "It's our only shot, right?"
"Yeah," Adam confirmed.
At this stage, the tumor was untreatable—terminal. And waiting it out? The cancer spreading through his brain would bring its own nasty symptoms anyway.
Beep beep. Beep beep.
Adam's pager went off.
"Take your time thinking it over," he said, checking the message. With a quick word to the couple, he jogged off.
This clinical trial did have a guinea-pig vibe, so he wasn't about to push them.
Big Mr. Robinson's condition had just tanked—he needed Adam for an emergency save.
He was at it until late that night, pulling Big Robinson back from the brink multiple times.
The cool part? Every save came with a system ping: +0.01 for saving a life. Last time he saved Ouyang Feng (the Western Venom) a bunch, the system only dinged him once, then ghosted.
Was it bias against Ouyang Feng, or was Adam's headspace off back then? He figured it was the former.
After all, whether he was helping grannies cross the street early on or saving lives as a doctor now, it was always with a utilitarian streak—same as when he used Ouyang Feng to grind lifespan points.
It made sense the system snubbed Ouyang Feng. If that lifespan glitch worked, why bother being a legit doctor? He could just park an ambulance outside a drug den and rack up lives in this TV world's addict central. Lifespan: skyrocketing.
But stare into the abyss too long, and it stares back. Plus, there's that ancient, unpredictable something out there—way spookier than this world's God.
So, the system playing it safe? Fair enough.
"The surgery went great," Adam said, popping into the ward after the OR. The Little Robinsons were still awake, so he shared the good news.
"Thank God!"
"Thank you, Doctor!"
They were all gratitude and relief.
Adam smiled, nodded, and turned to leave.
"Dr. Duncan, I'm in," Little Robinson called out suddenly.
"No rush," Adam said, pausing to look back. He caught the gratitude in the guy's eyes—like he wanted to repay Adam for saving his brother—and shook his head. "Mr. Robinson, this is gonna be a long haul—a real fight.
Outside factors? Not the big deal here.
You need the will to live to push through.
You've been through a lot today—too much to make a call like this right now. Sleep on it. Take a couple days. I'll use that time to tighten up the plan. Then we'll see if we go for it."
Some docs would lie, trick, or scare patients into being lab rats for their research. Not Adam—he wasn't about that. Even if Little Robinson was ready to sign up out of some death-wish gratitude, Adam would talk him down.
It was for the patient and for himself.
This kind of experimental research wasn't like regular life-saving—it was a huge gamble.
Success? All the glory's his.
Failure? All the fallout's on him too.
This long-term project would lose plenty of patients along the way. They were doomed anyway, but how they went out—maybe way worse and more painful—hinged on Adam's call here.
He had to minimize the moral baggage he might carry.
It had to be voluntary—not a spur-of-the-moment thing, but a clear-eyed choice after knowing the risks. Only then could he face it with a clean conscience.
"Okay," Little Robinson said, stunned for a sec before laughing again. "I'll think it over real good."
Adam nodded with a smile and headed out.
Tonight was gonna be sleepless.
Big Robinson's surgery was a win, but he still needed close watch. And Little Robinson's trial plan? That needed more work too.
This sudden dive into research mode reminded him of Peggy—back when this was her norm.
It was Wednesday. Three days since he'd last seen her over the weekend. Two more till he'd go back.
Hmm.
He kinda missed her.
---
(End of Chapter)