Chapter 014

014  

The jeep quickly started moving. Qu Jianjun sat beside Qingyin and said apologetically, “I apologize for bringing you here in such a sudden manner.”  

Qingyin remained silent, but her mind was calculating the odds of successfully calling for help.  

“But rest assured, we’re not bad people. We just need your help to examine a patient. At most, it’ll take an hour, and we’ll make sure to send you home safely.”  

Qingyin thought to herself, *What kind of patient requires such secrecy? Could it be something shady?*  

“I only know a little about Traditional Chinese Medicine.”  

“I believe in you,” Qu Jianjun said, looking into her eyes.  

In the dim light, he could see the calm and composure in her gaze. Most female comrades would have been terrified out of their wits in this situation. That sweeping kick earlier had clearly been delivered with full force—enough to match a grown man’s strength.  

Even he, a seasoned veteran, had barely managed to dodge it. If it had been anyone else, they’d be incapacitated by now.  

Moreover, he had already investigated her background. Compared to Lin Suifen and her daughter, who had been mistakenly credited as saviors and now hovered around the old man daily, this female comrade was anything but ordinary.  

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what set her apart, but Qu Jianjun remembered her composed and unflappable demeanor when she treated Da Ya last time. For some reason, he found her reliable.  

He had hesitated for a long time over whom to ask for help with this matter, but in the end, he had settled on her.  

“I have a young comrade who suffered an external injury. I’d like you to take a look.”  

The two young men in the front seats kept their eyes fixed ahead, as if they hadn’t heard the conversation in the back. Qu Jianjun paused, then lowered his voice. “It’s a gunshot wound. We can’t take him to the hospital.”  

Qingyin’s pupils dilated—*gunshot wound?!*  

In these times, what kind of person would have a gunshot wound? And if they couldn’t go to the hospital or seek a doctor, it meant the injury was caused by something illicit.  

Looking at these three men, clearly trained and military in bearing, Qingyin’s mind flooded with scenes from movies—spy thrillers, gangster films, cop dramas…  

But no matter which scenario it was, she had no chance to leave the vehicle now. She could only buy herself time, keeping her eyes on the route and silently memorizing it.  

Soon, the jeep stopped outside a dilapidated factory building in the western district. The factory was eerily quiet, with no signs of life. The two young men swiftly got out—one keeping a vigilant watch while the other knocked lightly on the gate. The door soon opened, and Qingyin was ushered inside by Qu Jianjun.  

After winding through the complex for about three minutes, Qingyin realized they were no longer in the original factory building when they finally reached a lit room.  

Following Qu Jianjun inside, she saw a man sitting on the edge of a *kang* (heated brick bed) who immediately stood and saluted.  

“How is he?”  

“Still unconscious.”  

Qingyin’s eyes blinked when she saw the pale, lifeless figure lying on the *kang*.  

She wasn’t mistaken—it was really Gu An!  

But Gu An was widely known as a street hooligan, a temporary worker in the factory’s security department. How did he get involved with Qu Jianjun? And how did he end up with a gunshot wound?  

Qu Jianjun cleared his throat. “I only recently learned about your connection to Anzi. Please, save him.”  

Hearing “Anzi,” the young man who had been tending to Gu An looked up at Qu Jianjun in disbelief, seemingly shocked that he had revealed Gu An’s identity to this young woman.  

“It’s fine.”

Qingyin thought of the only person who had collected the original owner’s body, and of him grumbling while washing dishes. She quickly got into the right mindset, with just one thought in her heart—this was the only child Gu’s Mother had left. She couldn’t let anything happen to him.  

Gu An had been injured at the fifth intercostal space on his left chest, right along the midclavicular line—the location where a normal person’s heart would be. A gunshot wound there would have been fatal in this era, yet he had survived until now. The only explanation was—his heart wasn’t there.  

Sure enough, the young man who had been taking care of him said, “The enemy intended to kill him, but they didn’t expect his heart to be on the right side. We removed the bullet and shrapnel as quickly as possible the night before last, but he still hasn’t regained consciousness. He doesn’t respond to calls.”  

To be honest, he was just relaying the condition as instructed by Qu Jianjun. As for letting this young female comrade treat him—he hadn’t even dared to consider it.  

Qingyin first washed her hands, then peeled back the bandages to examine the wound. After debridement and suturing, there was some minor oozing, but that was normal. If the wound wasn’t infected, he should have woken up two days ago. “Has he been unconscious since the gunshot?”  

“There was no anesthesia during the shrapnel removal—he endured it raw. He was conscious at the time. After the surgery, we thought he was just sleeping normally, but he still hasn’t woken up. Occasionally, he mumbles nonsense, but he doesn’t respond to calls.”  

Endured shrapnel removal without anesthesia? Qingyin’s heart skipped a beat. How could an ordinary person withstand that? Such toughness was something she’d only seen in blockbuster movies—never in her years of real-life medical practice. And especially not from someone known to everyone as a street hooligan…  

No time to dwell on it. Qingyin took his hand and checked his pulse on both sides simultaneously.  

The military doctor’s eyes widened in disbelief.  

Was he seeing this right? In such a critical state, she was actually taking her time to check his pulse?!  

His understanding of Traditional Chinese Medicine was that it could treat illnesses—but only minor ones. Things like colds, fevers, or diarrhea—mostly self-limiting conditions that would resolve on their own even without medicine.  

“Comrade, I think you might have misunderstood. The patient’s condition is extremely critical—an unexplained coma. This isn’t a cold or fever.” Treating such a severe condition like a common illness was practically playing with human life!  

Out of respect for Qu Jianjun, he held back the second half of that sentence, but the fury on his face was unmistakable.  

Gu An had performed a great service in this operation. From the moment he discovered the ammonium nitrate, to uncovering the spy den, to locating the hidden explosives, and finally charging in to capture the mastermind—all the leads had come from him alone. If not for that, the enemy wouldn’t have taken their frustration out on him when cornered.  

And yet, this female comrade showed no respect, no reverence whatsoever. His bloodshot eyes seemed to burn with rage as he glared at Qingyin.  

Qu Jianjun didn’t understand either and found it all a bit ridiculous.  

“Traditional Chinese Medicine does have miraculous effects for certain diseases—that can’t be denied. But… forgive my bluntness, wouldn’t Western medicine be faster for Anzi’s current condition?”  

“You’ve been using plenty of antibiotics these past two days, haven’t you? Why hasn’t the infection been controlled?”  

The young military doctor paused. “What infection?”

“The patient’s wound exudate is normal, with no redness, swelling, heat, pain, or chills, and no rapid breathing. Although his temperature fluctuates, it remains within the normal range. There are absolutely no signs of wound infection.” Moreover, the room was stocked with the most advanced antibiotics he could currently obtain. Even if there were an infection, combined treatment over these past few days should have resolved it by now. Where does this talk of infection come from?  

This female comrade not only disregards human life but also spouts nonsense!  

The young military doctor’s eyes no longer burned with anger—now they shot daggers.  

Yet Qingyin remained calm. “Have you measured his heart rate?”  

“Yes, vital signs like blood pressure and heart rate are checked twice daily, morning and evening. All are within normal range.”  

“Not morning or evening—now.” Qingyin handed over Gu An’s limp left hand.  

The military doctor thought to himself that it was only half past midnight now, and he had last measured at ten o’clock—just two hours ago. How much difference could there possibly be? This woman was truly reckless with her words.  

But out of professional instinct, he took Gu An’s hand, placed his fingers on the pulse, glanced at his watch, and began silently counting the heart rate.  

He refused to believe it. Once he got the number, he’d see what nonsense she could possibly spin next! Yesterday and earlier, the readings had been a steady 72 beats per minute—the ideal value for a healthy person. In just two hours, how much could it possibly change?  

“1, 2, 3… 98, 99… 121, 122…” The military doctor’s expression shifted from confidence to confusion, then to disbelief, until finally, sweat beaded on his forehead and his lips trembled.  

It wasn’t that he was easily shocked, but… but… “His heart rate is as high as 154!”  

A normal resting heart rate for an average person ranges between 60 and 100 beats per minute. Yet Gu An’s had soared to 154—equivalent to the heart rate during intense exercise. But he was clearly in a coma!  

The military doctor, unwilling to accept it, checked the pulse on Gu An’s right hand. This time, it was even higher—156!  

What’s more, when a person’s heart rate is this elevated, it’s usually accompanied by rapid breathing and intense chest movements. But Gu An showed none of that!  

He swallowed hard. “I overlooked this.” With such a high heart rate, infection should be strongly suspected. He ought to increase the antibiotic dosage immediately.  

But Qingyin shook her head. “No, no more antibiotics.”  

“If not antibiotics, then what? Traditional Chinese Medicine? That’s absurd!” The military doctor flared up again. He had just begun to regret his earlier dismissiveness, but Qingyin’s words reignited his temper. He seriously wondered if Qu Jianjun had brought her here to sabotage him. If they didn’t trust his medical skills, they could just say so—no need to send an amateur to humiliate him.  

This wasn’t just sabotage—it was an insult!  

Qu Jianjun was also baffled. “Infection requires antibiotics—even I, a layman, know that. I’m not sure what Comrade Qing means…”  

“Forgive my bluntness, but even if you fed or injected him with tons of antibiotics here, it wouldn’t help.”  

Qingyin pointed at the discarded IV bottles and medicine boxes in the waste bin, her smile faintly mocking. “You’ve already used plenty these past two days.”  

The fact that he remained unconscious was the clearest proof—these things were utterly ineffective.  

No, not just ineffective. The excessive use of cold-natured antibiotics had suppressed the Yang energy in his body. With Yin and Yang locked in conflict, his heart rate would only accelerate further, his vital energy would weaken, and the infection would worsen.  

The military doctor’s face stiffened.  

Qingyin had no time to argue with him. Fetching Chinese herbs now was impractical, but Traditional Chinese Medicine wasn’t limited to oral treatments alone.

She rummaged through a pile of instruments and found a medical suture needle. Fortunately, they were all from sterile packages, so there was no need to re-sterilize. She quickly located the acupoint and inserted the needle with precision—though not too forcefully.  

At least, to the untrained eyes of the two bystanders, her movements were gentle, the insertion shallow, like being pricked by a tiny splinter—just a faint sting, entirely within tolerable limits.  

As they watched, Qingyin lightly flicked the needle twice, then twisted it slightly, as if playing with a small toy…  

The young military doctor opened his mouth, about to say something, but Qu Jianjun silenced him with a look.  

Then, in the next moment, Gu An—who had shown no reaction moments before—furrowed his brows and shifted uncomfortably, his limbs twitching slightly.  

The two men’s eyes lit up. “Anzi?”  

Gu An’s lips moved as if trying to respond, but no sound came out.  

Qingyin flicked the needle twice more, and his tense expression relaxed. A faint “Mm” escaped him.  

“Anzi, can you hear me? It’s Qu Jianjun.”  

“Y-yes.” Though weak, the response was unmistakable.  

For two whole days, he had been unresponsive—yet now, after just a few needle pricks, he could answer when called. It was nothing short of a miracle!  

The young military doctor’s eyes were filled with disbelief: *Is this even real?*