"He fell ill again just before summer. It's his heart. The doctor said it's dangerous to leave it untreated. If we entrust him to a proper clinic, they say he can be saved. They can strengthen his constitution and improve his condition."
"Is he… not going to get treatment?" Bao Bei asked quietly.
"It costs money. A lot of it," Wilde replied. "What I've saved up so far isn't nearly enough. That's why I'm working so hard like this."
Bao Bei and Judy were shocked. The idea of not being able to play freely—and even being in danger of dying—was hard enough. And to think the boy might be suffering even now, while his father couldn't even be by his side because he had to earn money.
They looked down at the bag of sweets in their hands. They had eaten most of it already; only a little remained. Wilde must have wanted to give those treats to his own son originally. He had probably given them away because he was kind—because he was a gentle father who truly cared about his child.
