A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

The next morning, as soon as Aygul entered the hospital, she saw Nurbahati being stopped in the corridor by Vice President Wang.

"Let's put the coronary heart disease project on hold for now."

Vice President Wang flipped through the reports in his hand, "This year's budget is tight, so we'll focus on ensuring the surgical department's needs are met."

Your approach of combining traditional Chinese and Western medicine requires a large investment but yields slow results…

Nuerbahati's face flushed red: "Dean Wang, this project has been followed up with over three hundred patients!"

"I know. But hospitals need to be efficient. So, you can compile the data first, and we'll talk about it next year."

Aygul stepped forward and handed over her phone: "Dean Wang, please take this call."

"Whose call was that?"

"Dr. Zhou Yi from Liaoning, I need to report to you about the research relay agreement we signed yesterday."

Dean Wang stared at the phone, hesitated for a few seconds, and then took it.

In the corridor, Ayiguli and Nurbahati heard Dean Wang say into his phone, "Yes, I understand... but the hospital's funds are indeed tight... What? Joint application? Inter-provincial research project? And special funds?"

Five minutes later, Dean Wang returned the phone to Ayiguli, his expression complex: "The project... will proceed as planned. Submit a detailed budget by Friday."

Nurbahati let out a long sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Aygul gripped her phone tightly: "This is just the beginning."

She turned and walked towards the ward. Patient number 147 was still waiting; the data needed to be verified. The baton of scientific research had been passed to them, and no matter how heavy it was, they had to continue. Zhou Hongmei froze as she dragged her suitcase out of the hospital gate.

A large group of people stood at the entrance.

Old man Rehemaiti stood at the front, leaning on his cane, holding a large bunch of wildflowers he had picked from the Gobi Desert, the petals still glistening with dew.

Next to him was Aunt Gulibahar, carrying a full basket of freshly baked naan bread, wrapped in oil paper, with steam escaping through the gaps in the paper.

Behind them were more than twenty familiar patients and their families, some in wheelchairs, some supported by their children, and some standing with crutches.

Rehemaiti took two steps forward and handed over the flowers. "Dr. Zhou, we heard you were leaving today, so we...we came to see you off."

Zhou Hongmei's hand froze in mid-air, not taking it: "Uncle, what are you doing? It's so cold, go back inside."

Gulibahar shoved the basket into her hands, "It's not cold."

You can eat this naan on the way.

"You cured my leg, and now I can walk five miles to the bazaar. There's nothing to thank me for, just a few naan breads."

The crowd behind them began to surge forward, with one person handing over a bag of dried apricots and another stuffing in a few boiled eggs.

Zhou Hongmei's hands and arms were soon full. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

At that moment, another group of people walked out of the hospital gate.

Aygul walked at the front, followed by more than a dozen students from a traditional Chinese medicine training class, including young doctors, nurses, and two barefoot doctors from pastoral areas.

Aygul stopped, turned around to face the trainees, and bowed.

A dozen or so people bent over in unison, their movements not quite synchronized, but they all bent over very deeply.

Zhou Hongmei nearly dropped the flowers in her hand: "What are you doing? Get up!"

Aygul straightened up, her eyes red-rimmed: "Teacher Zhou, thank you."

The students shouted in unison, "Thank you, Teacher Zhou!"

Rehemaiti suddenly raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent.

The old man cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse: "Dr. Zhou, some of us were pulled up from the kang (a heated brick bed) by you, and some of us were put to our feet by you from the wheelchair."

As you're leaving, we have nothing to give you, just one sentence—

He paused, then said, word by word, "This land of the Northern Frontier will forever remember you."

A sniffling sound came from the crowd.

Zhou Hongmei picked up her suitcase and left.

He took a few steps, then stopped. Without turning back, he simply waved his hand and said, "Go back now and cooperate with your treatment!"

Even after the car had driven quite a distance, she could still see the group of people standing in the same spot in the rearview mirror, getting smaller and smaller.

Three days later, on the day Zhou Yi left, a banner was hung at the main entrance of the hospital.

Red background with yellow lettering: "The medical care in Liaoning will be forever remembered."

Nuerbahati led the entire department of doctors and nurses, who stood in two neat rows.

When Zhou Yi came out dragging his suitcase, everyone applauded at the same time.

Zhou Yi paused for a moment. "Why all this formality? Everyone, go back to work."

Nobody moved.

Nuerbahati stepped forward, followed by three patient representatives: an elderly teacher who had undergone surgery on Zhou Yi, a herdsman whose wife had been rescued, and a mother whose child's congenital heart disease had been cured.

Nurbahati's voice was a little choked up: "Dr. Zhou, we...we'll see you off."

The elderly teacher spoke first: "Dr. Zhou, you saved my life."

"I have nothing to thank you for, so I'll just see you to the door."

The herdsman's Mandarin wasn't very good, and after hesitating for a while, he managed to say, "Good person, have a safe journey."

The mother burst into tears and stuffed a hand-embroidered handkerchief into Zhou Yi's hand, saying, "You paid for the child's medicine yourself... I will remember that for the rest of my life."

After a dozen seconds, Zhou Yi smiled and said, "Alright, stop making such a fuss."

He wiped his face. "I'm going back to Liaoning. It's not like I'm never coming back."

He looked at Nurbahati: "The department is in your hands now. The patients are in your hands now."

Nurbahati nodded emphatically: "Don't worry."

"I'm not comfortable with it. But I have to pay."

He stopped in front of the young doctor and said, "Xiao Zhang, you were too hasty when you did the stitches last time. Slow down and be more careful."

He walked up to the head nurse and said, "Sister, the postoperative nursing procedure I revised must be strictly followed."

Finally, he returned to Nurbahati, said nothing, but squeezed his hand tightly.

As Zhou Yi turned to walk towards the car, he waved to the crowd with his back to them: "Go back, everyone! Get back to work!"

The car started.

Nurbahati suddenly caught up and banged on the car window, so Zhou Yi rolled down the window.

Nuerbahati, panting, said, "Dr. Zhou, you said this place feels like your second home... Well then, come home often."

Zhou Yi looked at him for a long time, and finally nodded: "Okay."

Roll up the car window.

The car drove out of the hospital gate, past the bright red banner, and onto the road leading to the airport.

The people in the department were still standing there.

A young doctor asked in a low voice, "Director Nu, is Dr. Zhou really coming back?"

Nurbahati gazed in the direction the car had disappeared, "If he says he will, he definitely will."