A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

"Before leaving office, I recommended Ayiguli to serve as the deputy director of the Traditional Chinese Medicine Department."

Zhou Hongmei's suggestion immediately sparked discussion in the meeting room.

Dr. Li was the first to speak: "She's only been with us for a few years? Dr. Zhou, we know you mentored her, but the position of deputy director..."

Zhou Hongmei interrupted him, "She's capable. You've all seen the three complex cases."

"Seeing is one thing, qualifications are another."

Another senior doctor also disagreed: "If she becomes the head doctor, what will the older doctors think?"

Zhou Hongmei stood up. "You can make your own judgments during tomorrow's ward rounds."

Three weeks of ward rounds resulted in the recovery of three complex cases.

The day the young man, who had been bedridden for a month, finally sat up, Dr. Li finally admitted, "This child truly has talent."

Zhou Hongmei thought it was a sure thing, but the dean disagreed.

Zhou Hongmei stood in the dean's office. "Dean, do you think this matter can be accomplished by next year?"

She lowered her voice: "Will Old Li and the others change their minds next year? Or will they find a new reason?"

The hospital director leaned back in his chair. "Dr. Zhou, you have to understand, personnel arrangements require balancing various aspects—"

"I don't understand."

Zhou Hongmei interrupted him, "All I know is that if Ayiguli doesn't get promoted this year, she won't get promoted next year either. And what about those other hospitals that are eyeing her?"

The Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital in Urumqi tried to recruit her last year, offering twice the benefits she received here.

"If she gets disheartened and leaves, what will happen to our two thousand-plus patients?"

"Dean, I'm not fighting for her alone."

I'm fighting for this hospital, and for all the people in northern Xinjiang who are waiting to see a doctor.

Do you really think Dr. Li can handle this? He can't even input electronic medical records properly!

The dean was silent for a moment, then waved his hand: "You can go out now, I'll think about it some more."

Zhou Hongmei knew that this consideration would most likely come to nothing.

She turned and went out, and at the corner of the corridor, she saw Ayiguli.

"Teacher Zhou, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry to have put you in such a difficult position, and even made you argue with the dean."

"Why are you arguing? Let's just talk things out."

You did nothing wrong, go back to work. The patients are waiting.

Aygul nodded, held the medical record to her chest, and walked towards the examination room.

When Aygul went to the pharmacy to get her medicine in the afternoon, she heard two young doctors whispering to each other at the corner of the corridor.

"Have you heard? She wanted to be the deputy director, but the dean rejected her."

"She's only been here a few years, and she's already got quite the ambition. Director Zhou is being too protective of her."

"Exactly, aren't all those older doctors more qualified than her..."

Aygul walked straight ahead without stopping, her face expressionless.

She just held the prescription in her hand, the paper crumpled up from her grip.

The first patient in the afternoon was Aunt Zhang, whose rheumatoid arthritis was cured last month and who can now go downstairs to buy groceries on her own.

"Dr. Guli, you don't look too well today?"

As soon as Aunt Zhang sat down, she looked at her face. "Your eyes are a little red. Didn't you sleep well?"

"It's alright, ma'am, let's take your pulse."

Aygul managed a weak smile and reached out to touch the old woman's wrist.

My fingertips were pressed against my pulse, but I just couldn't calm myself down.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and finally managed to pinpoint the pulse.

When writing prescriptions, I can't recall the names of the medicines that I can usually write down easily.

"Doctor, is something on your mind?"

Aunt Zhang asked cautiously, "Are you too tired? Why don't I come again tomorrow?"

"No need, that's fine."

Aygul shook her head, quickly wrote down the prescription, her handwriting a bit messier than usual, "Take this, and come back for a follow-up appointment in a week."

Aunt Zhang took the prescription, glanced at her, asked no more questions, and gently closed the door.

The third patient in the afternoon made Aygul even more embarrassed.

He's a long-time patient; his prescription was just adjusted last week, and he's here to give feedback.

Aygul had completely forgotten which medicines she had adjusted, and had to look through her medical record in front of him.

"Dr. Guli, are you having too many patients and getting confused?"

The patient spoke gently, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes.

"Sorry, it was my fault."

Aygul's face flushed slightly. She quickly found the record, "This prescription you used last time..."

After the patient left, Nurse Liu leaned over and whispered, "Sister Guli, are you too tired? You don't look well."

Aygul rubbed her eyes and didn't say anything.

For several days in a row, she was restless and uneasy.

He would lose focus while taking pulses, hesitate when prescribing medicine, and even once mixed up the medical records of two patients.

Although none of them made any major mistakes, the familiar old patients could all tell.

On Friday afternoon, Sister Wang came for a follow-up appointment.

She is the middle-aged woman who was cured by Aygul and can walk again.

As soon as she sat down, she lowered her voice and asked, "Dr. Guli, I heard that the hospital won't let you take over Director Zhou's shift?"

Aygul was sterilizing silver needles when her hand trembled, and the tweezers fell into the tray with a "clang".

"Who said that...?"

"Several patients have said the same thing."

Sister Wang leaned forward slightly. "Is it because those older doctors disagree? They say you're still too young?"

Aygul lowered her head, picked up the tweezers, and wiped them again and again, neither admitting nor denying it.

Sister Wang looked at her and sighed, "None of us patients are blind."

We know very well who is capable and who truly cares for us.

That evening, Aygul was the last to leave the clinic when she finished get off work.

She closed the door and stood leaning against it for a long time.

Outside the window, the setting sun in northern Xinjiang burned the sky into an orange-red hue. The benches in the waiting area were empty, but she knew that they would be full of people again early tomorrow morning.

She recalled Zhou Hongmei's words: "From now on, these two thousand-plus patients will come to you every year..."

Now, her very right to continue receiving medical treatment here may be questioned.

Aygul took a deep breath, straightened up, and locked the door. The corridor light cast a long shadow of her as she walked forward, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

The next day was Zhou Hongmei's last day at work. She was tidying up her things in the office, preparing for the handover in the afternoon.

Suddenly, a commotion arose outside.

She pushed open the door and froze.

The corridor was crowded with people—a young man in a wheelchair, Sister Wang who could walk, Batel, an elderly herdsman whose joint swelling had subsided, and several familiar patients and their families.

Dr. Li and several other elderly doctors stood at the back of the crowd, their expressions complex.

Batel walked forward with his cane and took out a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket.

"Director Zhou, our patients have written a joint letter."

He unfolded the paper, which was covered with signatures, some neat and orderly, some crooked and messy, and many red handprints.

"Dr. Ayiguli has cured many of us."

"Whether she is qualified to be the deputy director or not, those of us who have been cured know best," Batel said.

Zhou Hongmei took the letter; the paper was heavy.

She looked at Aygul in the crowd; the girl was biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes.

"We've already made a copy, and we just slipped it under the door of the dean's office."

From the back of the crowd, Dr. Li slowly stepped forward. He looked at Ayiguli, then at Zhou Hongmei.

"Dr. Zhou, we have withdrawn our objection."

He turned to Aygul, his voice lower: "Girl, I'm sorry."

We focus so much on seniority that we forget what's most important for a doctor.

Zhou Hongmei said nothing and pulled Ayiguli straight to the administration building.

The dean's office door was open.

The dean was looking at another letter on the table covered in signatures when he looked up at them, shook his head with a wry smile.

"I just received several calls, all from patients."

He stood up. "We'll have an emergency meeting this afternoon to discuss this again."

Three days later, a new appointment notice was posted: "Comrade Ayiguli is appointed as the Director of the Department of Traditional Chinese Medicine, effective immediately."

On the day the announcement was posted, Ayiguli stood at the door of her clinic.

Batel was the first to come over. He didn't say anything, but just squeezed her hand tightly.

Next came Sister Wang, the young man in a wheelchair, and one patient after another.

Zhou Hongmei placed the last bunch of keys in her hand: "Hold on tight this time."

"Teacher Zhou, I..."

"Stop talking, just get to work."

Zhou Hongmei picked up her luggage, saying, "The patients have placed their trust in you; don't let them down."

Aygul saw her to the door and bowed deeply.