Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Chen Deshou thought the term "scoundrel" was quite appropriate.

It was very accurate, very satisfying, and—it didn't affect the face of the imperial court at all.

Chen Deshou picked up the cup of tea on the table, which had gone cold, and took a sip.

The tea is excellent, pre-Qingming Longjing. In previous years, at this time, the line of people delivering the tea would stretch from the office to the stairwell.

Now? Forget about Longjing tea, nobody even delivers any high-quality snacks anymore.

The entire officialdom of Y City is now a powder keg—no, a nuclear waste dump!

Knock knock knock...

Chen Deshou put down his teacup, took a deep breath, and practiced saying "come in" three times to make sure his voice didn't betray any suicidal thoughts before speaking.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Zhao Ming, director of the Municipal Health Commission, entered.

Zhao Ming is 46 years old. Before last Friday, he was the deputy director of the Science and Education Department of the National Health Commission. He had spent his whole life in academia and published papers. He never dreamed that one day he would be kicked to this position.

He was wearing a dark blue jacket, his hair was neatly combed, and his expression was somewhere between "I'm going to die" and "Can I quit my job?"

"Prefect Chen." Zhao Ming's voice was slightly unsteady.

"Speak," Chen Deshou said, sparing with his words.

“There’s something going on…” Zhao Ming swallowed hard and opened the folder in his hand. “The First People’s Hospital of the city, the Second People’s Hospital of the city, the Maternal and Child Health Hospital of the city, the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital of the city, the Central Hospital of the city, the Third People’s Hospital of the city, and…” He flipped through the folder again, “The Children’s Hospital of the city, the Chest Hospital of the city, the Orthopedic Hospital of the city, and the Fifth People’s Hospital of the city have submitted a large number of transfer applications since last night.”

Damn it, that's a provincial hospital, is it under my jurisdiction?

Prefect Chen looked at Zhao Ming as if he were an idiot.

Zhao Ming's expression became even more pained.

"The Provincial Health Commission...please coordinate with the city."

Chen Deshou took a deep breath, then another, and yet another. He felt his lung capacity was enough to burst a balloon: "Didn't we discuss this yesterday? Transferring to another hospital is impossible. There are only 22 beds in total. How can we transfer? We can only register our ID cards, enter the pool, and draw lots at 1 p.m.

“No,” the Health Commission said, “they didn’t want to be transferred to the hospice care unit. They wanted to be transferred to the cancer hospital, the oncology department, the intensive care unit, or even the emergency department if necessary… The Provincial Health Commission hopes we can do a good job of reassuring them.”

"Is that even possible? Why don't they go and appease them themselves!" The prefect roared, "Human lives are at stake! Everyone knows that once a target gets used to a place, they'll most likely continue using it... If I were in their shoes, I'd want to move in too!"

The director of the National Health Commission nodded in deep agreement.

Damn it... The prefect facepalmed. I know you're a greenhorn, but you can't be this greenhorn, can you?

I'm saying all this to gain your approval, aren't I?

What can be done? The problem isn't just a lack of available personnel. In the current healthcare system, let alone transferring people in, even if you arrange temporary dormitories for a unit slightly closer to the healthcare system, the bureaucrats involved will fight tooth and nail with the personnel bureau.

“Coordination is possible,” Chen Deshou said, his voice dry like sandpaper. “Have all departments at the Provincial Cancer Hospital compile a list of available beds, freeing up as many as possible. Compile the quotas and create a tier 2 pool. Transfer applications from Y City that meet the criteria will be included in this pool, and a lottery will be held in the same way.”

Zhao Ming quickly jotted it down in his notebook.

"Furthermore," Chen Deshou continued, "the city has also compiled a list of hospitals' willingness to transfer patients. For those who are truly seriously ill and for whom current technology is no longer effective, add them to the pool. For those for whom there is still a chance with current technology—for those confirmed by expert consultation to have treatment value—try to persuade them. Your Health Commission, don't just go there empty-handed! Get your experts in the field, experimental therapies, and medical assistance channels all mobilized! Treat those who can be treated locally, don't just send everything to the provincial cancer hospital!"

Zhao Ming nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, we're already in contact. We've sent letters to the Provincial People's Hospital, the Provincial Cardiovascular Hospital, the Provincial Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, and also to the hospital in Beijing—"

"Alright, alright," Chen Deshou waved his hand. "Go on."

The door closed.

Chen Deshou picked up the teacup and had just brought it to his lips—

Knock knock knock...

Again.

He closed his eyes briefly and put down his teacup. "Come in."

The person who came in this time was a young clerk from the municipal government office, surnamed Lin, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old. He was usually a very clever young man, but the expression on his face at this moment was probably... the house he had just paid the down payment for was on fire.

"Prefect, the highway entrance is blocked."

"Let the Transportation Department handle it." Chen Deshou rubbed his temples.

“I’ve already gone.” Kobayashi spoke even faster. “But we don’t have enough manpower. We’ve sent everyone we can from the department, even the office staff, to the streets. It’s still not enough. The traffic is too heavy, and it’s still increasing.”

"If we don't have enough manpower, we'll coordinate with the headquarters!" Chen Deshou's voice rose slightly. "Everyone on duty, three shifts a day, I refuse to believe—"

"Everyone is on duty," Xiao Lin quickly added. "The prefectural governor and the express team have been on duty since last weekend. They haven't had a single day off."

"Then let the retirees fill in! There are so many retirees in these government offices, every time I sign off on their pensions it's bleeding money. Let them fill in! Start with the ones with the highest pensions!"

Kobayashi quickly took notes.

Chen Deshou had just picked up his teacup—

Knock knock knock...

The teacup was placed heavily on the table, spilling tea that soaked the unfinished document on the table.

"Enter!"

The door opened.

The person who came in this time was Lao Sun, the deputy director of the municipal government office. He was in his early fifties and had been working for Chen Deshou for seven or eight years. He was considered one of the most reliable people under Chen.

At this moment, Old Sun's face was even more unpleasant than Xiao Lin's.

"Prefect, some travelers have reported that their hotel reservations have been cancelled."

"You're asking me this too?" Magistrate Chen was exasperated.

“The hotel is near the Provincial Cancer Hospital,” Lao Sun said, flipping through his tablet. “The guest booked it a few days ago and received a notification this morning saying that ‘the hotel is undergoing temporary renovations and the booking has been cancelled.’ The guest didn’t pay much attention at first, but when she rebooked the hotel using her husband’s phone, she found that the same hotel and the same room had increased in price tonight from 200 yuan last night to 3800 yuan.”

The office was silent for a full five seconds.

Chen Deshou's expression changed from confusion to disbelief, from disbelief to anger, and from anger to something even more terrifying.

“3800?” His voice was very soft.

Old Sun nodded.

Chen Deshou closed his eyes.

I'll be killed by these damn bastards one day!

They'll either kill you or drive you crazy!

"Old Sun." When Chen Deshou opened his eyes again, his voice was unusually calm.

"exist."

"Go now, go to the cancer hospital, and arrest that bastard."

"...malicious price gouging?"

"Provoking trouble!" Chen Deshou practically spat out these four words through gritted teeth. "Hoarding and profiteering! Making a fortune off the national crisis! Tell the Censorate to prosecute as soon as possible! Send him to prison!"

Old Sun turned and ran.

The door closed.

The phone on the table rang.

Chen Deshou glanced at the caller ID—Provincial Government Office.

He took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Is this Prefect Chen? This is Old Zhou."

"Secretary-General Zhou," Chen Deshou said, trying to make his voice sound natural, "please speak."

"How's the situation in Y City today?"

Chen Deshou remained silent for two seconds.

"good."

"Not bad?" The voice on the other end of the phone was unusually concerned. "The highway is jammed for more than ten kilometers, hotels around the provincial cancer hospital have raised their prices to 3800 yuan, and hospitals throughout the city are applying for transfers—is this what you call not bad?"

Chen Deshou remained silent.

“Old Chen,” Secretary-General Zhou’s voice softened a bit, “I know it’s tough for you. That position would be difficult for anyone. But there are some things I need to make clear to you.”

"Please speak."

"The province generally affirms Y City's work. Especially in the last two weeks, you have responded quickly and taken effective measures in terms of social resource allocation, social order maintenance, and public opinion guidance. When provincial leaders went to Beijing for a meeting, higher-level leaders specifically mentioned you, saying that you 'can handle it'."

Chen Deshou did not respond.

In official circles, the phrase "able to withstand" can be both a compliment and a harsh statement.

If you can withstand it, then keep withstand it.

Hold on until you can't hold on any longer.

“There are a few issues,” Secretary-General Zhou said, changing the subject, “that the province needs your close attention to.”

"Please speak."

"First, medical resources. What happened at the Provincial Cancer Hospital is just the beginning. How many critically ill patients are there across the country? They are currently heading to Y City. Where will they stay? Where will they eat? Where will they be treated? These are things that the Provincial Cancer Hospital cannot handle, nor can the Provincial Health Commission. You, Y City, can only find a solution yourselves."

Chen Deshou's temples began to throb.

"Second, social stability. Hotel price hikes, traffic congestion, and strained medical resources—if these issues are not handled properly, they can be the trigger for mass incidents. You are not dealing with a few hundred ordinary people, but tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even millions of people. Among these people are patients, their families, reporters, onlookers, and people looking to make money—all kinds of people. You cannot let them descend into chaos."

Chen Deshou remained silent.

“Old Chen,” Secretary-General Zhou sighed, “the province’s intention is very clear—from now on, Y City will enter a special state. All resources will be directed towards Y City, all policies will give way to Y City, and all problems will be solved in Y City. Whatever you need, the province will give you.”

"Thank you for the support from the provincial government."

"Oh, right..."

Chen Deshou felt a chill run down his spine when he heard those two words.

However, the core message on the other end of the phone was unexpectedly simple: "...There's one more thing. Later, try to spare one or two hours to go to the provincial health center for a check-up. The expert team is already waiting for you."

"An expert team? When medical resources are so strained?"

"Your boss is very concerned about your health."

Chen Deshou remained silent.

“Old Chen,” Secretary Zhou’s voice was gentler than that of his mother in his memory: “Hold on… The court and the people need you.”

The phone hangs up.

Chen Deshou held the microphone, listening to the busy tone coming from it, without moving.

If you did bad things in your past life, you will be a county magistrate in this life; if you did evil in your past life, you will be a county magistrate in the capital; if you are utterly wicked, you will be a county magistrate in the provincial capital.

Someone like me would probably be considered... utterly wicked.

109 Special Status

I had barely sat down for five minutes after returning from the hospital when my secretary knocked on the door.

"Prefect, it's time to start the meeting."

Chen Deshou stood up from the chair. His legs were a little numb. He held onto the edge of the table for a few seconds until the soreness subsided before taking a step.

The elevator is at the end of the corridor.

Chen Deshou went inside, and his secretary followed, pressing the button for the top floor.

The elevator doors closed, and the only sound in the cramped space was the buzzing of the elevator.

Chen Deshou looked at his blurry reflection on the door panel. He was fifty-three years old, with white temples, drooping eye bags, and a downturned mouth.

During my physical exam, the doctor said my blood pressure, blood lipids, and blood sugar were all at borderline levels, and advised me to rest, control my diet, and increase my exercise.

What foods can easily cause intracranial hypertension?

With a "ding," the elevator arrived.

The rooftop corridor was much quieter than the downstairs area; the carpet was thick, and there was no sound when you stepped on it.

Several calligraphy and paintings hang on the walls on both sides. They are all the works left by the previous prefects, and the contents are nothing more than things like "diligent in serving the people" and "honest and incorruptible".

Every time Chen Deshou passed by, he felt it was ironic—those people who wrote calligraphy now either hold higher positions in the province or have retired to enjoy their grandchildren at home. None of them collapsed from "diligence" or died of poverty because of "integrity."

At the end of the corridor was a dark wooden door, which was open and already full of people.

Chen Deshou went inside.