The next day, when Su Tang woke up, the other side of the bed was already empty.  

Only a slightly indented pillow and a faint trace of Lu Xiao’s cool, crisp scent remained.  

She sat up and touched her face—it felt a little warm.  

Su Tang took a deep breath and smiled helplessly.  

Here she was, a modern woman, getting outplayed by a pure-hearted young man. How embarrassing.  

She shook her head, feigning composure, and pushed aside those lingering thoughts.  

Today was her first official day as an intern, and she couldn’t afford to be late.  

After washing up, Su Tang changed into a plaid shirt and straight-leg trousers.  

She neatly braided her jet-black hair into two pigtails, and the reflection in the mirror showed clear, bright eyes brimming with unyielding determination.  

Remembering Lu Xiao’s comment about her, she smirked.  

A paper tiger? Well, even a paper tiger could bite!  

Breakfast was still the congee and multigrain steamed buns from the cafeteria, left on the table.  

Lu Xiao was nowhere to be seen—probably out for morning drills.  

Su Tang ate quickly, cleaned up the dishes, took a deep breath, and stepped out the door.  

The residential compound was already bustling: parents sending kids to daycare, others carrying basins to the laundry room.  

A few of the wives spotted Su Tang and greeted her warmly.  

“Dr. Su, heading to work?”  

The first to speak was Zhang Cui, her tone laced with unmistakable pride.  

“Oh, Su, you look so fresh today!”  

Su Tang paused and smiled in response.  

Zhang Cui happened to be heading out too and sidled up to link arms with her, lowering her voice excitedly.  

“Hey, girl, everything alright last night? Did Brother Lu… say anything?”  

She winked, her face full of gossipy curiosity.  

Su Tang’s cheeks warmed slightly, and she deflected the question. “What could he possibly say? Oh, by the way, sister, I wanted to ask you about someone—Yuan Danqin, the director of the hospital pharmacy. What’s she like?”  

She wasn’t familiar with the situation in the northwest, but knowing your enemy was half the battle. Su Tang decided to gather some intel from Zhang Cui first.  

Zhang Cui pursed her lips. “Yuan Danqin? Pfft, she’s an old-timer. She’s been running the pharmacy for over a decade and hates anyone messing with her turf.”  

“She’s not exactly evil, just a bit… old-fashioned? And she likes to skim a little off the top.”  

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping even lower.  

“Those ‘losses’ in the pharmacy—who knows whose pockets they end up in? Everyone turns a blind eye. Just don’t step on her toes when you’re new, alright?”  

Su Tang filed the information away and nodded. “Thanks for the heads-up, sister. I’ll keep that in mind.”  

The two parted ways at the intersection, and Su Tang walked alone toward the division hospital at the other end of the camp.  

The morning wind carried a crisp chill, sharpening her focus as it brushed against her face.  

She clenched her fists, psyching herself up.  

What was there to fear? She’d done this all before in the modern era. Nothing could trip her up.  

The pharmacy was in the innermost room on the first floor of the hospital. The moment she stepped in, the familiar scent of disinfectant mixed with powdered medicine hit her—it felt like coming home.  

Rows of deep brown medicine cabinets lined the walls, their glass doors packed with assorted brown glass bottles and paper pouches of varying sizes.  

Inside, a woman in a white coat—probably in her forties, with high cheekbones and thin, tightly pressed lips—was clacking away on an abacus while checking an account book.  

This had to be Yuan Danqin, the pharmacy director Zhang Cui had described as someone who liked to pocket small gains.  

“Good morning, Director Yuan. I’m Su Tang, the new intern. Here to report for duty.”

Su Tang’s attitude was respectful, her smile gentle and completely non-confrontational.  

Yuan Danqin didn’t even lift her eyelids, merely letting out a dismissive “Hmm” through her nose.  

The woman’s fingers continued flicking the abacus beads with practiced speed, only stopping after a long while.  

She slowly raised her eyes, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping over Su Tang.  

When she noticed Su Tang’s overly pretty face—which carried an air of aristocratic refinement—a faint trace of disdain flashed in her eyes.  

“Xiao Su, the dean already mentioned you to me.”  

Yuan Danqin drew out her words, addressing her as “Xiao Su” before pointing at a pile of dust-covered cardboard boxes in the corner.  

“There. Start by sorting out the expired meds in those. Catalog them properly for unified disposal. Be quick about it—don’t hold things up.”  

Her tone was dripping with impatience and condescension.  

The boxes had clearly been sitting there for ages, the dust thick enough to write in.  

Su Tang understood immediately: this was a power move, a way to put the “unwanted newcomer” in her place.  

It was also an attempt to sideline her with the most tedious, least skilled work possible.  

Su Tang wasn’t actually spineless—she just knew that pushing back outright would be pointless and give people ammunition against her.  

Avoiding direct conflict was the smarter play.  

She put on a perfectly measured smile, one that carried just the right touch of a clueless newbie’s eagerness: “Understood, Director Yuan. I’ll get right to it.”  

Her tone was docile, without a hint of complaint.  

Rolling up her sleeves, Su Tang grabbed a rag and a basin of water and began meticulously cleaning up the mess.  

She didn’t grumble or rush to prove herself—she simply focused on the task with unwavering diligence.  

One by one, she sorted the expired medications, carefully checking each label and batch number.  

Then, in the tattered logbook Yuan Danqin had tossed her way, she recorded every detail in clear, neat handwriting:  

Drug name, specifications, quantity, production date, expiration date.  

Yuan Danqin watched coldly at first, smugly anticipating a spectacle.  

But gradually, she realized this so-called “spoiled rich girl” worked with startling efficiency.  

Her movements were quick yet methodical, her records almost too precise—even her elegant penmanship made Yuan Danqin feel a twinge of inadequacy.  

And throughout it all, Su Tang showed no trace of resentment or frustration, as calm as if this were just another routine task.  

Yuan Danqin’s sense of superiority deflated like a punctured balloon, replaced by an inexplicable irritation.  

She snapped her ledger shut with unnecessary force and stalked off to the storeroom.  

Su Tang kept her head down, but the corner of her mouth quirked up ever so slightly.  

Yuan Danqin’s attempt to intimidate her had backfired—instead, it became the perfect opportunity for Su Tang to showcase her competence and professionalism.  

And she knew the ones evaluating her weren’t just Yuan Danqin, but also the dean and department heads observing from the shadows.  

At noon, Su Tang ate a quick meal in the hospital cafeteria before returning to her sorting.  

Perhaps Yuan Danqin herself felt a little embarrassed, because she eventually reassigned Su Tang to assist a young Dr. Wang in the internal medicine outpatient clinic.  

Dr. Wang was baby-faced and visibly nervous, flustered whenever the patient load got heavy.  

The examination room was packed—coughs, crying children, the noise overwhelming.  

A peasant woman clutching a child rushed in, frantic: “Doctor! Doctor! Please, look at my baby! My baby is burning up and convulsing!”  

The child, around two or three years old, had a flushed face and rapid breathing.  

His body twitched intermittently, his gaze unfocused—clearly a case of febrile seizures.  

Dr. Wang panicked, scrambling for a tongue depressor: “Quick! Hold him down, don’t let him bite his tongue! Get a towel!”  

He tried prying the child’s mouth open, but the little one’s jaw was clamped shut with surprising strength.  

The situation was critical. Su Tang stepped forward without hesitation.  

Instead of forcing the child’s mouth open, she swiftly laid him on his side on the examination bed, loosening his collar to ensure clear airways.  

“Go! Fetch 10ml of 10% chloral hydrate solution from the pharmacy, diluted with an equal amount of saline for an enema! Also bring alcohol and warm water for physical cooling!”  

Her voice was steady, carrying the natural authority of a doctor, instantly stabilizing the chaotic scene.  

The nurse reflexively nodded and rushed off.  

“Dr. Wang, stay calm. Breathe.”  

Su Tang even spared a moment to reassure the shaken young doctor.  

Sigh. Still green—gets rattled the moment a patient raises their voice.