Chapter 292: Parkinson’s Disease

Although born and raised in Luo Village, Xiao Luo didn’t particularly believe in Seekong’s spirit, though he deeply respected Seekong for his great deeds to the village in the past. He was an icon of the community, and over the generations, the people of Luo Village had revered him and sought his spiritual protection. The cult of Seekong was sacred to the villagers of Luo.

Ji Siying drank a bowl of the divine water. It was refres.h.i.+ng and sweet, with a faint fragrance to it that gladdened the heart. After drinking it, she felt revitalized. She glanced at Xiao Luo, and when he wasn’t paying attention, she quickly filled the remaining divine water in a small bottle she had brought along with her. She intended to take it back to the NSA for research and to a.n.a.lyze its contents, hoping to discover something about this water.

After the memorial ceremony, several middle-aged women of Luo Village went into the kitchen by the side of the shrine to prepare servings of chicken congee for the congregation.

Old man Xiao Quanren remained at the altar, preparing to write auspicious couplets for the Seekong Altar. He was a notable calligraphist, and his skill was renowned in the entire village. With a brush in his hand, he produced characters that were magnificent and elegant in style.

“You youngsters should learn calligraphy for it is a precious treasure that had been pa.s.sed down by our ancestors. It is a profound art form, and in capable hands, one can instill life into characters. If it is not continued, the art will be lost one day,” Xiao Dizhang said, addressing the youngsters present at the shrine.

Some nodded in agreement, some scoffed at the suggestion like it was a joke, while others remained unresponsive as if it had nothing to do with them.

“Is the Wise One really good in calligraphy?” a boy around seven or eight asked curiously.

“Of course.”

With a look of pride, Xiao Dizhang said to the lad, “The Wise One was a scholar back in the Qing Dynasty. He is well versed in the “four books and five cla.s.sics” [1], can compose poems in seven steps, and is even more excellent in calligraphy. Even the other calligraphists in the county praised his beautiful work.”

“Wow, the Wise One is awesome!”

The boy’s eyes instantly shone with adoration and respect.

“Shh… be quiet. Master Xiao Quanren is about to begin writing.” Someone called for the crowd to remain silent, gesturing with his index finger against his lips.

Two red-colored xuan paper sheets were spread out on the table. Xiao Quanren put on his pair of worn-out reading gla.s.ses, picked up the brush, and was just about to begin writing. The entire Seekong shrine fell into dead silence as everyone had their eyes fixed on him. For many of them, watching him work his brushstrokes was a pleasure unto itself. He wrote his characters elegantly, and the couplets he composed were superb and carried the allusion and grandeur of the old cla.s.sics.

But something didn’t seem right that night, as old man Xiao Quanren’s hand suddenly halted in mid-air before he even began writing his first character. He stayed that way for an uncomfortably long time, and the brush was shaking uncontrollably in his hand.

“What’s wrong with the Wise One?” the boy asked once again.

“Shh, don’t speak. The Wise One is contemplating what to write and will only begin after he’s done thinking,” the boy’s father whispered to him.

But after ten minutes, old man Xiao Quanren had yet to move his shaking brush. Finally, a drop of ink dripped from the brush’s tip onto the red calligraphy paper, smearing it with a ma.s.sive splotch.

This was an absolute taboo in calligraphy!

According to the tenets of calligraphy, a situation like that should never happen and was simply unacceptable.

Everyone in the crowd looked at each other. “What’s wrong with the Wise One?”

“Parkinson disease. The wise one is suffering from a neurodegenerative disease that is very common among the elderly.” Xiao Luo figured it out at a glance.

Despite the belief that divine water protected one from all illnesses, it was really the placebo-effect that worked wonders for the believers. No one could ever be immune to all diseases. Hearing Xiao Luo’s words, Xiao Dizhang turned to him with a look of concern and asked, “Xiao Luo, are you sure that he is sick?”

“Come off it, Xiao Luo. The Wise One is as healthy as can be. Don’t jinx the old man!” Xiao Qiudong chided him, coming across in a smugly self-righteous way.

Xiao Luo ignored his remark and responded to Xiao Dizhang’s question. “Parkinson’s symptoms include resting tremors, slowness in his actions, increased muscle tone, and resistance to limb movement caused by involuntary muscle contractions. The Wise One is unable to move while his hands are shaking, which characterizes Parkinson’s disease.”

“How are you so sure about that? You’re not a doctor!” Xiao Qiudong shouted.

The others shared his doubts as they thought that only a doctor had the right to give that prognosis.

Then, Xiao Quanren put down the brush, smiled weakly, and said, “Xiao Luo’s right. I went for a medical checkup at the county hospital some time ago. The doctor said that I contracted a disease whose name is tough to remember. It has come back to my mind now that Xiao Luo had mentioned it. Pump-kin-son, it is.”

“It’s Parkinson, Wise One,” Xiao Luo corrected him with a smile.

Xiao Quanren smiled with squinted eyes and said, “Ah, yes, yes. Par-kin-son, it is. Sigh, that’s what you get when you grow old. My memory worsens as the days go by.”

After hearing Xiao Quanren’s affirmation, the crowd looked upon Xiao Luo with deep regard.

Xiao Dizhang asked further, “Xiao Luo, since you know what illness this is, you should know how to treat it, right?”

Xiao Luo shook his head, “This is a complication due to old age, and as far as I know, there’s no way of treating it. But, it won’t affect his lifespan; it’s just that when he is focused on doing something, some parts of his body will tremble uncontrollably, unable to stay still.”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief, all was good as long as it wasn’t life-threatening.

“Xiao Luo looks like your days in university were not in vain. You have knowledge in so many areas.”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard of this Parkinson’s Disease before. You taught me something new today.”

“Looks like we still need to get our child to further his studies. It will come in handy after all.”

Xiao Qiudong was incensed, and his awful expression said it all. He never made it to university and had resorted to comparing his career to that of Xiao Luo, intending to prove his theory that studying was overrated. As it turned out, he had just been proven wrong, and that had made him hate Xiao Luo even more.

“That’s for sure, Luo is the only person who had gone to university in our village. His qualification is the highest, so of course, he knows a lot more,” Xiao Ping gushed, praising Xiao Luo unreservedly.

Xiao Qiudong couldn’t contain himself anymore and directed his hostility toward Xiao Ping. “What nonsense are you talking about! Who said that if one attends university, that would mean one will know a lot? University students nowadays are nothing compared to those in the past. They aren’t learning anything during their four years in university, they are busy dating, fooling around, and wasting their time. Anyway, university graduates are just a bunch of lazy people.”

He directed those remarks at Xiao Ping, but his intention to criticize Xiao Luo was very obvious to the crowd.

“Dong Dong, that’s too strong of an opinion, is it not?”

“Yeah, Xiao Luo can’t be that kind of person. Otherwise, Miss Ji wouldn’t have liked him.”

“It is still better to study more and widen your field of knowledge.”

Xiao Ping dared not respond to Xiao Qiudong, but the crowd, however, didn’t take kindly to Xiao Qiudong’s outburst at all. Besides, Luo Village was a small community, and everyone knew about Xiao Ping’s predicament. They were well aware that Xiao Ping had borrowed money from Xiao Qiudong, and they didn’t appreciate how rudely Xiao Qiudong acted toward Xiao Ping. To take advantage of someone else’s ill-fortune was despicable.

Seeing how everybody reacted, Xiao Qiudong wisely kept quiet.

But there was a rather urgent problem that they had to deal with. Now that Xiao Quanren was unable to write the couplets for the Seekong Altar, who else could do it?

Xiao Dizhang threw the question to the crowd, but everyone only shook their heads. Most of the villagers were farmers. They could carry out any kind of farming work expeditiously, but handling a calligraphy brush was beyond them. Even the characters they wrote with pencils looked like scratch marks made by chicken claws.

Footnote:

[1] The four books (The Great Learning, the Doctrine of the Mean, Confucian a.n.a.lects, and The works of Mencius) and the five cla.s.sics (The book of Songs, The Book of History, The Book of Changes, The Book of Rites and The spring and autumn Annals)