Chapter 20

People in the countryside woke up early. At this hour, the sky was only beginning to brighten.

Xu Hehua casually set aside the half-eaten bowl of porridge, ran back through the fog, retrieved fifty yuan from her money stash, and dashed out again.

The jeep engine roared again. She didn’t dare delay and hurried over.

In the backseat, Wanchun was listening to the details of the house call when her mother suddenly appeared at the window. She quickly asked the driver to stop and rolled down the window.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m with Master.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Hehua reached in and stuffed the money into her daughter’s pocket. “You never know what might happen—better to have something than nothing.”

Instinctively, Wanchun reached into her pocket. “What is it?”

With a glance at the unfamiliar soldier up front, Hehua casually said, “Eggs.”

But the eggs were still in Wanchun’s arms keeping her warm—obviously not eggs.

She didn’t ask further though. The feel of the money in her pocket said it all.

Moved, she flashed a sweet smile. “We’re off, Mom.”

Saving lives was urgent business. Now that her daughter was an apprentice doctor, Hehua knew better than to get in the way. She stepped back and picked up the noisy puppy, Danggui. “Go on, go on.”

With that, the young soldier stepped on the gas and the jeep jolted off down the road.

The car sped off quickly—gone within seconds, even with rough terrain.

“Since Taohua’s learning medicine, she’ll be running around like this often. You’ll have to get used to it,” Su Nan consoled.

Snapping back to herself, Hehua put Danggui down and smiled. “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous, but I’ll adjust. Nan-jie, you should go back inside—you’ll catch a cold.”

This wasn’t Su Nan’s usual waking time. She had come straight from bed and only loosely wrapped herself in a coat. Shivering, she replied, “I’ll get some more sleep then.”

Hehua suddenly called after her, “Nan-jie, come eat lunch at my place later. We’ll just throw something together.”

Su Nan looked surprised. “Didn’t you say yesterday you were heading into the mountains to pick chestnuts?”

“You’d be home alone—I’d be worried. I’ll go tomorrow instead.”

“What’s there to worry about? Just go. Don’t worry about me.”

But Hehua knew better. There were no secrets in a small village. Everyone saw that Dr. Cao had left in a jeep early in the morning. If any good-for-nothing scoundrel got the wrong idea, Su Nan with her delicate frame wouldn’t stand a chance.

As a widow, Hehua had seen the worst of people. She didn’t underestimate human malice. “It’s fine. One day won’t make a difference. I’ll go tomorrow.”

Knowing her friend was just concerned for her, Su Nan didn’t want to delay the chestnut gathering. “Then I’ll go with you.”

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In 1950, some parts of northern China still had bandit activity.

To protect civilians, the 56th Field Army—preparing for deployment to Korea—frequently worked with local police and militias to root out bandits.

Where there was conflict, there were casualties.

This time, the casualties were especially high because the enemy had been tipped off and laid an ambush.

So even though the bandits were eventually captured, it was a Pyrrhic victory.

“…Casualties far exceeded expectations. We’re critically short on both medics and medicine. Commander Zhou asked me to pick you up from Xujiatun,” explained the driver, Xiao Jiang. He kept glancing at the delicate little girl beside Dr. Cao, baffled as to why anyone would bring a child to a battlefield.

The wounded were all bloodied, some missing limbs. Wouldn’t a kid faint on the spot?

To be fair, Xiao Jiang wasn’t being unreasonable. Wanchun looked too delicate—like a porcelain doll needing careful handling. Not like the tough child soldiers of previous years.

But Dr. Cao was a guest of Commander Zhou. As a guard, it wasn’t his place to question.

Wanchun noticed the driver’s glances but didn’t care. She quietly asked her master, “You know Commander Zhou?”

Dr. Cao replied, “He and my eldest brother—your Grandmaster—were comrades in arms.”

Clearly, the elder of the Cao family also held a high military rank. Wanchun didn’t pry further.

The jeep fell silent again. After another half hour, they finally arrived at their destination.

Concerned for the wounded, Xiao Jiang grabbed the medicine box and rushed them to the temporary medical site.

But he had barely gone a few steps when something tugged on his pants.

Looking down, he saw the porcelain-like child holding out her hands calmly. “Brother Jiang, saving lives is urgent. I can’t run fast. Please carry me.”

Dr. Cao, who had considered carrying her himself, quickly handed him the medicine box instead and said, “Please, Comrade Xiao Jiang.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Startled but responsive, Xiao Jiang crouched and carried her on his back, running forward.

Dr. Cao followed, lifting his robe as he ran.

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The temporary medical site was right beside the battlefield.

Though the fighting had ended, the air was thick with the smell of blood and scorched earth.

Even grown men would find it hard to bear.

While running, Dr. Cao kept glancing at his young disciple, worried the sight would traumatize her.

But again, he was surprised. The tiny girl clung tightly to the guard’s back, her usually bright face tense—but not a hint of fear.

As expected… Dr. Cao relaxed and smiled. This little one was born to be a doctor.

Bringing her might have been unnecessary, but her performance made him proud.

Soon, they arrived at the medical camp.

Tents were set up across the open field. Inside them, the air was filled with groans and cries of pain.

Medics bustled about.

Xiao Jiang put Wanchun down and shouted, “Chief! Dr. Cao is here!”

Dawn had fully broken. Commander Zhou was extinguishing a kerosene lamp to save fuel. Hearing the shout, he turned swiftly.

Seeing his long-awaited lifesaver, the deep lines on his square, tanned face relaxed. He strode over. “Cao Er, I’ve been waiting anxiously!”

Dr. Cao frowned as he saw the blood on him. “You’re hurt?”

Commander Zhou, still strong despite being in his forties, waved it off. “No, just got blood on me carrying the wounded.”

“Good. Take me to the patients.”

Zhou, showing no airs, led the way personally. “This way, I’ve prepared the operating area. Want me to call a nurse to assist?”

As they entered the tent, Dr. Cao glanced at his small disciple and knew her thin arms couldn’t help much. “Someone strong, please.”

“Got it!” Zhou replied quickly and ordered Xiao Jiang to bring the wounded, while he coordinated with the medical staff.

Without another word, master and disciple began preparing tools, medicine, and disinfecting their hands, working in perfect sync.Most people hold stereotypes about traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), assuming it doesn’t include surgery. But that’s far from the truth.

TCM is a broad and complex system, with four main branches: Jiyi (internal medicine), Yangyi (surgery), Shiyi (dietary therapy), and Shouyi (veterinary medicine). Surgery falls under Yangyi.

The first injured soldier brought in had a stab wound to the back, about 15 cm long and up to two fingers deep. It required surgical stitching.

Earlier, Dr. Cao Xiu had checked the available supplies—practically nonexistent. Even basic gauze for dressing wounds had been reused, let alone rare anesthesia.

So, he gave up on requesting medication and instead pulled out sterilized gold acupuncture needles. He began inserting them into acupuncture points like Hegu, Neiguan, and Zusanli, while instructing his apprentice, who was cleaning and staunching the wound:

“I’m using acupuncture anesthesia. You’ll handle the stitching. Work quickly—can you manage?”

Though trained in TCM, Dr. Cao didn’t reject Western medicine. Since his son mentioned the girl had potential for it, he had intentionally included some basic surgical techniques—like bone scraping and suturing—in her training, even though he wasn’t an expert.

And as it turned out, just like his son had said, Peach Blossom (Taohua) was a natural when it came to surgical techniques. Her stitching skills even made her teacher feel inferior.

“No problem!” Xu Wanchun replied. She already understood the limits of acupuncture anesthesia—though effective, it wasn’t as strong as modern anesthetics. The faster the stitches, the less pain for the patient.

The assisting nurse and General Zhou, who hadn’t left, were both dumbfounded by the exchange between this oddly casual master and apprentice.

Especially the young nurse—she kept glancing at her commanding officer, silently screaming “Are these two frauds?!”

Though Zhou Xinguo was skeptical, he knew Cao Xiu’s character and that he wouldn’t joke around with patients’ lives. So, he held back his doubts and decided to observe.

And indeed, Cao wasn’t bluffing.

Once the acupuncture took effect, the small girl—so tiny she had to stand on a stool to reach the operating table—swiftly began stitching. Her technique stunned the onlookers.

It wasn’t that her speed was superhuman. On an adult, it would have been impressive but not unheard of. The shock came from the fact that she looked like an eight-year-old child.

If the situation weren’t so serious, Zhou would’ve dragged Cao aside just to marvel at the girl’s skills.

But Cao paid them no mind. Once the sutures were done, he applied Shengji Yuhong ointment to stimulate healing, then dressed the wound with a bandage. “Next patient!” he barked at the dazed onlookers.

The nurse snapped out of it. “Yes, sir!”

“I’ll come too,” said Zhou.

And so, the master and disciple fell into a seamless rhythm. One patient after another was brought in and treated. From 6:00 in the morning until 3:00 in the afternoon, they didn’t stop.

When the last patient was carried out, Xu Wanchun’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor.

Dr. Cao was exhausted too, but still walked over to his spent little apprentice. “You alright?” he asked, bending down to lift her onto a stool.

Too tired and too hungry, Xu Wanchun weakly waved him off. “I’m fine, Shifu… I just need to sit for a bit.”

Cao’s heart ached seeing her so wilted. He turned to the equally exhausted nurse. “Do you have any tea?”

The nurse was already thoroughly impressed with this duo—especially the little girl, who she now saw as a genius. She quickly dug out a candy from her pocket. “Here, have this for now. I’ll go get you some tea.”

Sugar was a precious wartime resource. Xu Wanchun declined. “Save it for someone who really needs it. Hot water is enough.”

The nurse’s nose stung. That candy had been rationed by the head nurse for emergency use—most staff didn’t even get to eat during shifts.

But she hadn’t expected such maturity and restraint from a child. She sniffed, put the candy away, and left the tent to get water and some food.

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Though no new wounded arrived, their work wasn’t over. Previously treated patients still needed follow-ups.

After scarfing down a few cornbread buns, the master and apprentice rested briefly before starting rounds.

Despite her fatigue, Xu Wanchun followed Dr. Cao closely, carefully recording each patient’s post-op condition in a small notebook.

Thankfully, her two years of clinical residency weren’t wasted. She handled the work with ease.

After finishing with the last patient, a woman in her fifties approached them.

She had short, cropped hair in a Hu Lan style, a thin build, a round face, and slanted eyes. Though her eyes were bloodshot, her expression was calm and composed.

Seeing them look over, she smiled warmly. “I’m Yu Qiong, director of the field hospital.”

Cao Xiu blinked. He greatly admired front-line doctors like her. Though she was older, he respectfully extended a hand. “Director Yu.”

Xu Wanchun, ever the proper little bean, didn’t speak or offer her hand—just gave a toothless smile.

Yu Qiong chuckled at her gap-toothed grin, patted the girl’s head, and leaned down kindly. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

Cao suddenly had a bad feeling…

But Xu Wanchun didn’t suspect a thing. “My nickname is Taohua. Full name: Xu Wanchun.”

“Wanchun… Peach Blossom? What a lovely name! May I see your notebook, Taohua?”

Xu Wanchun looked at her master for permission.

Cao nodded.

So, Xu Wanchun offered the notebook with both hands.

Yu Qiong’s smile deepened. She lovingly ruffled the girl’s curls before flipping through it.

Time logs, treatment notes, patient feedback—all neat and complete. Yu Qiong’s eyes sparkled.

When she’d heard from the nurse and General Zhou that the one doing the sutures was an eight-year-old child, she was shocked—and skeptical.

But earlier, she’d already examined one of the soldiers.

Honestly, she felt her own stitching wasn’t as good as the girl’s.

Current emergency surgical practice called for stitches about 1 cm apart. But the girl’s technique looked more like precision repair.

Whether this would reduce infection rates remained to be seen, but it was certain the resulting scars would be more aesthetically pleasing.

“Taohua’s stitching—did you teach her that?” she asked.

“No,” Cao replied. His father had been a renowned TCM doctor, and while he taught some basics, the suturing was not his work. He proudly added, “She figured it out herself, practicing on pigskin at home.”

“Really? Then little Taohua is a born surgeon!” Yu Qiong exclaimed.

“Our little Taohua”? Cao’s face darkened. He yanked the girl behind him and snapped, “She’s my disciple and a future TCM doctor!” He emphasized “my” extra hard.

But Yu Qiong just smiled even more warmly. “Whether TCM or Western medicine, if it can save lives, why draw such hard lines?”

I knew it! Cao’s hair practically stood on end—he hadn’t imagined it. She really was trying to poach his student!

Sensing that her master was about to explode, Xu Wanchun peeked out from behind him and quickly said, “Granny Yu, the suturing wasn’t my invention. I lost my memory half a year ago. I probably saw it before and just copied what I remembered.”

She’d told her master and mistress this before, but they hadn’t believed her. Still, she couldn’t take credit for something that wasn’t hers.

Yu Qiong could understand that. In these chaotic years, it was entirely possible the girl had once encountered a skilled traveling doctor.

She wasn’t overly concerned about the source. As someone stationed on the front lines and dealing with battlefield injuries daily, Yu Qiong was more interested in whether this new stitching method could speed up healing or reduce infections.

If it worked, she would shamelessly ask Peach Blossom to teach her.

But before she could even ask, the sweet little voice piped up again: “Granny Yu, if you think it’s useful, I can show you how I do it.”

That voice was music to Yu Qiong’s ears. If she had admired the girl’s talent before, now she was determined to have her.

She crouched down and gazed at her like she was her own granddaughter. “Little Taohua, would you like to learn Western medicine from Granny Yu?”

Cao Xiu, absolutely fuming: “Don’t even think about it!”

And once again, Xu Wanchun was hidden protectively behind her furious master…

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He had waited years for this perfect little apprentice—someone to carry on his legacy. Now someone dared to try and poach her?

If not for his medical ethics, Dr. Cao would’ve stormed off right then and there.Even though he was angry, as long as the patients under his care weren’t out of danger yet, Doctor Cao wasn’t going anywhere.

In other words, he and his little apprentice would have to stay here at least one more night.

It wasn’t appropriate to give Director Yu, an elder, the cold shoulder—but when it came to Commander Zhou, all bets were off. After all, that guy was his older brother’s best buddy.

Commander Zhou, feeling a bit embarrassed after learning about Director Yu’s attempt at poaching, looked at his fuming friend and tried to ease the tension: “Why don’t you two go get some rest? If anything happens, Xiao Jiang will come get you. Otherwise, it’s going to be a rough night.”

Sure enough, those words made Cao Xiu drop his anger. An adult could tough it out, but a little kid like his apprentice couldn’t. “Alright then, we’ll rest for a bit.”

The temporary medical station didn’t have a great resting environment for the medical staff either.

Inside the tent, simple military cots were set up. There were no assigned beds—wherever there was a space, that’s where you slept.

As for cleanliness? Or mixed genders? When you’re so tired your legs are wobbly, those things simply didn’t matter.

Little Xu Wanchun couldn’t care less. She climbed up onto an empty cot and was asleep the moment her head hit the makeshift pillow.

By the time her master woke her up, it was already close to midnight.

She wasn’t stupid. Seeing the weariness on his face, she knew he hadn’t rested as well as she had. He probably hadn’t slept much at all.

With her short arms and legs, she felt like a burden during times like this. Xu Wanchun sighed softly and quickly got out of bed… for yet another all-nighter.

By dawn the next day, when the last patient suffering from a high fever finally pulled through, the master and apprentice were finally able to relax.

“We’re no longer needed here. Do you want to sleep for a bit, or head home now?” Exhausted to the bone, Cao Xiu didn’t even have an appetite and just drank a random bowl of cornmeal porridge.

The temporary clinic was about an hour and a half’s drive from Xujiatun. Xu Wanchun knew her master would prefer to go home. “Let’s go home.”

Cao Xiu didn’t object. He put down the bowl and went to find Commander Zhou.

Before leaving, out of good manners and personal courtesy, Doctor Cao brought his apprentice to bid farewell to Director Yu.

Despite the red veins in her eyes, Yu Qiong was still busy at work. Hearing their reason for coming, she smiled warmly at the little girl. “Taohua, give Granny Yu your address. I’ll send you some Western medicine books and case studies. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can write to me…”

Cao Xiu: !!!

He should never have been polite in the first place!!!

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