Ink Burns

Chapter 62 The Smallest Triangular Needle

Snow was falling. The blue brick avenue in Songjiang Prefecture was paved with a thin layer of soil to prevent slipping, but it was only on the avenue. Turning the corner of the city wall and entering the alley, it became muddy. Wu Xiaohei, who had sparse and yellow hair, rushed back from the avenue. As soon as he turned the corner, his foot was hit by the snow on the road and he fell with a "bang". His first reaction was to protect the medicine in his arms.

"Mother - medicine -" Wu Xiaohei shouted, stumbling and knocking the wooden door open: "The Cheng family has opened a charity to distribute medicine! Five cents a dose of medicine! Mother -"

The disheveled young woman struggled to climb onto the bed frame, and raised herself up inch by inch. She felt sick in her chest, and with a wow, she vomited all over the bed and the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes, and the woman waved her hands hastily: "Go, go - go outside, don't get close -"

She was taking care of the disease that Xiao Hei's father contracted!
Xiao Hei's father went out of town to have a drink, and when he came back he had vomiting and diarrhea. He took out the mugwort hanging on the door for Dragon Boat Festival and boiled a bowl of soup to drink. Later he became unwell, exhaling more than inhaling, and couldn't eat a grain of rice.
Now, the stiff corpses in the alleys are placed under the patio of the ancestral hall. There is no queue for burial, and the bodies are piled on top of each other. The head of the village said that in just three or four days, more than twenty people have died in their Dongtou Lane!
Wu Xiaohei was a sincere child, he refused to leave, his face covered with two layers of strange gauze, he insisted on helping his mother up: "Doctor Cheng said, cover your face, wash your hands if you get hurt, don't touch vomit or diarrhea, wash your hands if you touch it, fumigate the house with wormwood and pour strong liquor, clean it up so it's not easy to get infected. I just lost my father, I can't lose my mother again!"

Wu Xiaohei held back his tears and brought the mixed sugar and salt water to his mother's mouth: "You drink it first, I'll go boil the medicine. Doctor Cheng said that if you can't swallow the medicine, or vomit after taking it, I'll take you to the charity hall for acupuncture at night."

On the third day of her illness, the woman was lying in bed waiting to die - once people in the alley started vomiting, they would be dead by the seventh day at most.

The woman leaned on her son's shoulder, drooling, and asked in confusion, "Doctor Cheng Cheng? The one from Baiyaotang that offers free clinics?"

Xiao Hei cried, "Yes! The charity sent a lot of people! During the day, they distributed medicine based on household registration cards and the signature of the village head. Each patient had three doses of medicine. At night, they received consultations. Good people and patients were separated and could not see each other."

After the deaths, many doctors in the city closed their doors and refused to see patients. Doctors are also human beings, afraid of death, and want to save lives. The doctors in the remaining pharmacies only looked and asked questions, without touching or smelling.
This doctor actually dared to get close to the patient to give him an acupuncture!

Somehow, the woman developed a struggling hope: maybe she could survive?
***
The Cheng family's charity hall was located outside Sifang Street. A large shed was propped up with bamboo poles, and three or four stoves were built with mud. The fire was blazing and green smoke was billowing out. A doctor in a plain linen shirt and white robe sat alone in the middle of the shed, with his face covered by a veil. Behind him, four or five helpers were running instead of walking. It was snowing, and beads of sweat were oozing from his forehead.

As night fell, the good people who were not infected were dispersed, and the patients who could not hold on any longer went out to see a doctor under the cover of darkness.

Two long lines of patients passed the corner, one line of men and another line of women. The women were receiving acupuncture inside the shed, and the ears were filled with cries, groans, and gasps.

Cheng Xingyu sat behind the desk, with frowned brows and deep eyes behind the veil. After finding the acupuncture point, he inserted the needle with a slight tremor. After several more injections, the patient felt that the nausea that had been surging for a long time suddenly subsided!

"This is to stop your vomiting. Go to the back hall to take the medicine in three quarters of an hour, and come back tomorrow evening." Cheng Xingyu placed the used silver needle in the boiling water and said loudly, "Next!"

As soon as the voice fell, a scream came from the queue: "Ah——"

A middle-aged patient fell to the ground, convulsing all over and foaming at the mouth.

Cheng Xingyu immediately stood up, his robe flying as he walked to the patient's side. He half-knelt down, and a huge amount of energy burst out from his frail body. He pressed the patient's shoulder with one hand and stretched out the other hand, shouting, "Give me something I can bite!"

The next patient with a mustache who was supposed to be treated next was indignant and even stretched out his hand to grab Cheng Xingyu: "Doctor Cheng, don't waste your energy if he can't be saved! Drag him to the side!" - He should have been the next one to be treated! Why did he get the first turn! Just because he was going to die! ? Aren't we all going to die!

Cheng Xingyu was dragged to the ground with his head down, and he didn't bother to turn back. He was very afraid that the twitching patient would bite his tongue, so he immediately stretched his arm to the patient's mouth! In a panic, a white silk handkerchief appeared in front of him.

Cheng Xingyu raised his eyes, and his pair of cold eyes and brows, covering his mouth and nose, were like white jade that had been hidden at the bottom of a mountain for years.

Cheng Xingyu's heart was hit twice again with "dong dong" sounds.

His eyes flickered, and he finally lowered his eyes, took the handkerchief, twisted it into two strands and stuffed them into the strong man's mouth, then took out a silver needle and quickly pierced the acupoints such as the center of the eyebrows, earlobes, and the tip of the middle finger.

When he finished the acupuncture, he heard Shan Yue's cold and gentle voice: "Those who just prevented Dr. Cheng from acupuncture, get out!"

Referring to the patient with a mustache.

The patient with a mustache let out a “Hey Yo!” and immediately shouted, “You little bitch!”

Cheng Xingyu slightly turned sideways, and his tall and thin figure subconsciously stood in front of Shanyue.

Shan Yue stood up straight, his back straight, and said sternly: "Get out! If this person doesn't leave, Doctor Cheng will not see patients anymore. Everyone please go back!"

Cheng Xingyu pursed his lips tightly.

After Shan Yue said this, there was no need for Peng Da and Peng Er to step forward. He had his own patient. He held on to his last breath and dragged the mustache out of the queue: "Get out!" "Get out!" "It's you! You're still dragging Doctor Cheng! There are not even enough doctors in the city to treat patients! How dare you touch Doctor Cheng!"
Shan Yue looked around and spoke in a slow voice: "With the epidemic ahead, doctors are the most important. If you want to be treated, from now on, Doctor Cheng will be the first. Anyone who pushes the doctor or delays treatment will not be allowed to see the doctor!"

As soon as Shan Yue spoke, the queue became much more orderly, and the speed of acupuncture treatment also increased. After Shan Yue washed his hands, he held the sweat towel for Cheng Xingyu while watching Cheng Xingyu's diagnosis and treatment methods: his idea of treating the disease was very clear. He would first use silver needles to stop vomiting, and then take the medicine. If he stopped vomiting, the medicine would always be absorbed by three-tenths. He had done everything he could, and could only leave it to fate.

After taking the patient's pulse, Cheng Xingyu held the silver needle and inserted it very quickly with neat and calm movements. The lower half of his face was covered with a veil and his forehead was slightly drooped. His elegant and pale eyebrows revealed overflowing fatigue, but they were still as clean as a spring.

"The thinnest three-edged needle." Cheng Xingyu stretched out his hand.

Shanyue's eyelashes drooped slightly, and he bent over to hand over the silver needle.

The people in the queue moved forward in an orderly manner. Some of the most seriously ill patients fell to the ground on the spot, convulsing and gradually stopping breathing. The people who came later tacitly avoided the fallen bodies and moved forward, raising their heads in silence and full of expectation, looking at the shed hung with oil lamps.

Every time at this moment, Cheng Xingyu would look up in response, with undisguised compassion in his eyes, and his hands would apply the needle faster and faster.

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(End of this chapter)