An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 284 Photos
Within a single day, severe allergic reactions to penicillin broke out among the wounded soldiers on the front lines who had received the latest batch of medicines.

Subsequent statistics showed that the allergic reaction resulted in nearly fifty injuries, including nine soldiers who died from suffocation due to acute laryngeal edema, and another 12 who suffered permanent epilepsy or aphasia due to cerebral hypoxia.

This incident, caused by a drug quality problem, resulted in the loss of about a platoon of non-combat personnel in just seven days, with casualties no less severe than those in a fierce raid.

Subsequent investigations revealed that penicillin, when exposed to water or moisture, produces a special slow-release allergen, posing a far greater risk of allergic reactions than usual. Moreover, these reactions are often delayed, making misdiagnosis highly likely and directly causing the injured to miss the golden window for rescue.

Since then, our army has learned its lesson and made adjustments to the system, clearly stipulating that medicines that are damp will not be accepted.

Meng Youyou was not on the list of those nine people because her rescue was timely.

……

The field hospitals were much better equipped and better equipped than the rudimentary underground first aid stations at the front lines. At least they had decent beds, even though they were crammed into the corridors and passageways.

Wartime emergency medical evacuation systems follow a strict hierarchical principle, with wounded soldiers being transferred according to the severity of their injuries. Those pulled back from the front lines and ultimately sent to this level of field hospital, if they survived, could only exclaim, "What a lucky break!"

More than anything, people felt fortunate.

When Meng Youyou awoke from her post-operative coma and her gaze swept across the unfamiliar surroundings, realizing where she was, she truly understood the life-or-death ordeal she had endured over the past two days and one night.

Meng Youyou's hospital bed was in a corner near the door. The bed next to hers belonged to a young man. Meng Youyou secretly glanced at the wound on his chest—Li Tiezhu, male, 20 years old, blood type O, blast injury.

This room is mostly occupied by patients with severe external injuries, except for Meng Youyou, who seems to have been temporarily squeezed into this ward.

Meng Youyou didn't pay much attention to this person at first, until she lost count of how many times she caught that faint gaze coming from her right side.

Every time Meng Youyou catches him, he immediately looks away and pretends to look elsewhere.

She had considered asking or reminding him, and she even rehearsed it in her mind several times, her tone ranging from a gentle "What do you want?" to a fierce "What are you looking at!"

But every time, she hesitated because the man's trachea was always wrapped in gauze, and since she had been staying there for several days, she hadn't heard him utter a single complete sentence. Even when the nurses came to change his dressings every day, they mostly communicated through gestures like nodding and shaking their heads. So, whenever she wanted to say something, she swallowed it back down completely.

But after doing it so many times, Meng Youyou couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

That afternoon, Meng Youyou finally couldn't take it anymore. She was sitting on the bed reading a book when she suddenly slammed the book shut, turned her face, and met the person's peeping gaze directly. Her eyes were sharp and aggressive.

The young man's eyes widened suddenly, his pupils revealing panic.

Meng Youyou said in an unfriendly tone, "Why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the young man's face flushed bright red, the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears. He hurriedly waved his hands, making hurried "uh-uh" sounds in his throat, while his other hand fumbled under the pillow, pulling out a small notebook and a ballpoint pen. He bent his neck and scribbled something on it, then handed the notebook over shortly afterward.

Meng Youyou looked down at the paper, which read: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I just felt like I'd seen you before, but I wasn't sure if I was mistaken, so I glanced at it a few more times. If you felt offended, I apologize."

Meng Youyou's gaze swept suspiciously from the paper to the young man's face across from her. She studied him for a moment, confirming that she had no recollection of him. Her lips twitched involuntarily as she asked, "Where have you seen me before?" Her tone was clearly one of disbelief.

The young man was taken aback by her question. He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting around as if he were desperately trying to recall something, or perhaps unsure how to express himself. He remained silent for a few seconds, then gently took the notebook back from Meng Youyou's hand and buried himself in writing again.

Meng Youyou took two steps closer, leaned down and stared at the paper. When she saw the contents clearly, she asked, "Do you know anyone surnamed Huo who is serving in the military?" She was slightly surprised and blurted out the name, "Huo Qingshan?"

Upon hearing this, the young man looked up, his eyes instantly lighting up, and his previously tense shoulders relaxed a little. He nodded repeatedly, even clapping his hands excitedly, and strained to squeeze out a hoarse voice: "Yes...yes! It's...Commander Huo!"

Seeing this, Meng Youyou quickly comforted her, "You'd better not talk, just write." A few seconds later, on the paper, came the words: "I didn't mistake you for someone else!" This time, her handwriting was filled with an unknown joy.

Upon seeing this line, Meng Youyou's doubts gradually took shape: "So you saw me in the army, right?" During the six months she served in the 624th Army, she had met too many people, most of whom were just fleeting acquaintances, so it was normal that she didn't remember them at the moment.

She leaned closer, her voice even softer: "Are you a soldier from the 624th Regiment?" Her attitude had softened, her guard down.

The young man shook his head and then nodded, his pen flying across the paper as he wrote: "Not the military, I've seen you in photos."

"Photos?" Meng Youyou was confused again.

The young man held a notebook, writing and gesturing with his hands. Meng Youyou stood aside, patiently watching his gestures, and gradually understood the whole story by combining them with the words in the notebook.

Li Tiezhu told her that he had just joined the army last year. During his recruit training, he made a mistake and was punished by being responsible for spraying anti-mildew agent in the entire camp dormitory during the rainy season.

Once, in their battalion commander's dormitory, Huo Qingshan opened a cabinet to clean out paper items so he could spray anti-mold agent. During the process, a photo accidentally fell out from between the pages of a book and landed on the ground.

Out of curiosity, he subconsciously glanced down at the photo. It was a group photo—the boy on the left was their battalion commander, with an unusually gentle look in his eyes, and the girl on the right had a particularly beautiful smile.

"You and our battalion commander..." The pen suddenly stopped writing on the page, as if realizing something was wrong. The young man hurriedly scribbled a few strokes to erase the original words.

But Meng Youyou, with her sharp eyes, still caught it. She chuckled, a hint of understanding in her voice: "Are you trying to ask me what my relationship is with your battalion commander?"

The young man nodded shyly.

……

The following evening, the setting sun bathed the hospital room's glass windows in a warm amber hue, and the light slanted in.

An uninvited guest is about to arrive in the crowded ward.

At that moment, Meng Youyou was squatting in front of the simple wooden cabinet by the bedside, her knees resting on the peeling paint of the cabinet legs, her fingertips touching the cold edge of the enamel basin, in which lay a white towel, and a soap dish crookedly in one corner.

Immediately afterwards, they heard a series of hurried footsteps in the corridor, as if someone was rushing towards them on the wind, getting closer and closer to their ward.

Meng Youyou didn't pay much attention. The hurried footsteps in this building day after day were nothing unusual, so she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

She took out an enamel plate from the cabinet. Her physical condition had not yet fully recovered. Because she had been squatting for a long time, her calves were a little stiff and weak, so she deliberately slowed down her movements when she stood up.

The next second, the door was suddenly pushed open, and the stuffy wind from the corridor rushed in, sweeping across her back with a "whoosh".

Meng Youyou turned around following the sound, and her breath caught in her throat as soon as her gaze passed over the IV stand at the foot of the bed—who else could it be but Huo Qingshan standing at the door?

Li Tiezhu, who was in the next bed, was the first to react. He sat up straight from the headboard and raised his hand halfway to call for help when he saw Battalion Commander Huo stride over.

The man strode up to Meng Youyou, and before she could react, he pulled her into his arms with a familiar and domineering force.

The embrace came suddenly and forcefully; her cheek struck his chest, and the sound of his rapid, powerful heartbeat filled the air.

Meng Youyou snapped out of her daze in his overly firm arms. She slowly raised her hand, gently grasped the back of his training uniform, and buried her face in his chest, whispering, "I'm fine."