An extraordinary life journey through old Beijing courtyard houses

This man was dressed in silk clothes and was agile and ruthless in his moves; he didn't look like a good person at all.

Given the modern tendency to prioritize self-preservation, Jiang Baobin should have kept his distance—

What do I care if other people live or die?

But who could blame him when the system had to cause trouble again at such a crucial moment? It really gave him a headache!

"Ding! Temporary mission issued: 'Rescue the man who was seriously injured while being bullied by the enemy'. A generous reward will be given upon completion of the mission."

The problem lay in the word "generous," which forced Jiang Baobin to step in.

After the men in black left, several men carried the man into the car under Tom's direction.

Fortunately, it was very close to the "Municipal Beiping Hospital" and we arrived in just a few minutes.

Because Tom was present, he played a significant role in the hospital's all-out rescue efforts.

They were then told that the patient had lost too much blood and needed a blood transfusion for the surgery, but the hospital's blood bank did not have enough.

Then, following Tom's example, Jiang Baobin got his blood tested without really understanding what was going on.

And then, what the hell is "and then"?

That thick steel needle pierced the vein in the elbow crease.

(I don't know why, but my butt starts to ache whenever I see it?)

(This is the size of a blood-drawing syringe, oh my god!)

There are no automated blood collection devices now; it's just a big glass tube that uses a piston to forcefully draw blood out!

Blood! My blood! Maroon, it bid farewell to my small body just like that.

Jiang Baobin was filled with grievances—Am I a normal person? I'm a patient! I just came back from the dead a few days ago!

You system, you're so shameless! You're trying to scheme against me like this (at this point, he stopped admitting he was greedy)?

He was cursing inwardly, but he had to force a smile on his face because Tom was smoking too.

You're doing it for your own benefit, but what is he doing it for? Sometimes, the imaginations of foreigners are truly incomprehensible.

This guy had clearly done it before, offering to donate 500 milliliters (the amount of blood required for donation in the West)!

It doesn't matter that he's a big, clumsy guy.

Jiang Baobin, who was very thin, ended up smoking 350.

The nurse originally wanted to continue, to draw up 400.

But Jiang Baobin resolutely refused—"I'm saving people, not committing suicide!"

At this point, he was already experiencing palpitations and cold sweats.

As Jiang Baobin left the blood collection room, he silently recited to himself:

My buddy has been really kind of me; I've only been alive for a little over ten days.

We can't risk our lives to save others.

Tom is a complete idiot; he pulled out that huge 500ml clump and acted like nothing happened.

You have to admit it, the differences between different races are truly enormous.

A total of 1850 milliliters (the blood bank actually had blood again, isn't this a scam?) of fresh blood was transfused into the injured man's body.

In the doctor's words, the surgery is over, and now it depends on his physical condition and whether he can get through the critical period.

Tom helped the dazed Jiang Baobin out of the hospital and praised him, "Jiang, you did a great job!"

"I understand the habits of you flower growers, and you are strongly opposed to doing this."

"But you're different. You're an open-minded person and very kind."

Jiang Baobin rolled his eyes – if I ever do this kind of thing again, I'll call Jiang Hongsheng "uncle"!

The tricycle driver, looking miserable, was still waiting outside. He had obviously tried to clean the vehicle, but there were still bloodstains on the seat.

Jiang Baobin gave him a silver dollar, and the guy's expression changed instantly. He left, thanking him profusely.

After calling another car, Jiang Baobin insisted on taking Tom home first.

On his way back, he couldn't find any red meat shops still open.

Because it's getting late, and there are no refrigerators these days.

Jiang Baobin had no choice but to buy a chicken (to kill it alive) to deal with the situation.

Passing by the tailor shop, I went in again to urge the owner to work overtime, because he needed to wear the clothes he had ordered earlier the next day at noon.

The boss readily agreed.

Then I got three more doses of blood-tonifying herbs from the pharmacy (he didn't like the herbal decoction, but he was fine with stewing chicken).

Jiang Baobin is determined to make up for the lost blood.

West Courtyard.

Jiang Daya had already prepared the meal and was just waiting for him to come back to eat.

Looking at the rough cornbread, Jiang Baobin scratched his head a little. People these days are too good at saving money.

I clearly told her to make at least two kinds of dough, which means half wheat flour and half cornmeal.

But judging from this, even if they add flour, it won't exceed 20%.

Okay, okay, everything's done, so let's not ramble on anymore.

Anyway, it's better than before, at least we can eat our fill now.

Because in his past life, he had been criticized more than once—if you're just taking what's readily available, then shut up, or you'll have to make it yourself next time.

However, she had already figured out a way to deal with Jiang Daya: buy more wheat flour and less cornmeal, and she would naturally change her ways.

"Third Brother, why are you buying a chicken at this time?" the little girl asked curiously.

Jiang Baobin lay slumped on the kang (a heated brick bed), looking weak and on the verge of death.

"I felt dizzy today, so I went to the hospital for a checkup."

"The doctor said my illness is not completely cured, and I also suffer from anemia and malnutrition."

"I could faint in the street at any time like last time, so I need to take good care of myself."

"Otherwise, you'll develop a chronic illness that you'll never recover from!"

"Oh!" Jiang Daya exclaimed in surprise, "Is it that serious? I'll cook it for you right away."

"Don't panic, it seems like it won't be time for us to get to know each other."

"Let's eat first, and you can boil some water while you're at it."

"I'll pluck the fine hairs clean before stewing it, and then we can eat it as a midnight snack."

"Okay!"

The meal was served: cornbread, pickled vegetables, and a bowl of old cucumber soup for each person.

It should more accurately be called cucumber water; there's not a speck of oil in it, it's just water.

Jiang Baobin asked his younger sister to bring the sesame oil bottle and put a few drops into each bowl.

It's truly amazing how it can turn something rotten into something magical; everything changes instantly.

But this broke Jiang Daya's heart. In her mind, how could her own people use such precious sesame oil when they were eating?

They only bring out their wealth to show off when guests arrive.

Jiang Baobin didn't care. What did the guests have to do with me? As long as I ate and drank well, that was enough.

An hour later, the aroma of chicken filled the entire No. 95 courtyard.

Then, the faint sound of a child crying could be heard from the east courtyard.

Soon enough, there were angry shouts from adults and screams from children...

Jiang Baobin stroked his smooth chin—had he offended everyone?

But I can't just stop eating meat to please them, can I?

Why do I work so hard to earn money? Isn't it just for satisfying my appetite?

Then, Jiang Hongsheng came out.

Two small black hands gripped the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), while big, bright eyes stared intently at Jiang Baobin.

Snorting and blowing snot bubbles, he shouted, "Pull, pull..."

Jiang Baobin sighed. The reason why this kid appeared at this time was self-evident.

Some people are really shameless!