Chapter 256: Simple Surgery

Hearing Mu Min's explanation, everyone's expression changed. They were all modern people with basic concepts of human rights. Now someone—a woman at that—was about to die wrongfully for no reason because of superstition. They couldn't stand by and watch.

"We have to save her," Mu Min said.

Everyone fell silent. This was the Li district, and the transmigrators were outsiders. Historical experience told them: when you don't have enough power to influence others, even if your intentions are good, don't interfere in other people's affairs casually—otherwise it will only attract resentment.

Xiong Buyou said, "How can we save her?"

"She is innocent—" Mu Min stopped midway. They knew there was no such thing as "Jin" in this world. The problem was that the people here didn't think so.

"Let's play it by ear," Cui Yunhong said. "Didn't Engineer Wang specifically instruct us this time to respect the customs and habits of ethnic minorities and not interfere casually?"

"We can't just leave her to die, can we?" Someone's sense of justice exploded.

"What she dies of has nothing to do with us!" Fang Jinghan suddenly dropped such a cold remark. Everyone couldn't help but be startled, not expecting this old nice guy to suddenly say such cold words.

"What did you say?!" Someone's universal values acted up. "An innocent person is about to be killed! And you actually say it has nothing to do with us?!"

Seeing that before anything was done, a great debate on values and human rights theory was about to unfold, Cui Yunhong shouted:

"Enough!" He also felt that this woman's life or death had little to do with them, but now that it had been brought up, openly saying not to save her would definitely cause internal conflict. "What's the use of saying useless things now?"

He Ping said, "It's not hard to save her, but I have to ask—will the Executive Committee agree if we take this woman in?"

"Of course we'll take her," Mu Min answered without hesitation. "Not considering her ethnic identity, we need people even as laborers."

"Or she can be a wife for Little Wang."

"I think you're the one tempted, right?" People started teasing each other. Cui Yunhong thought that one of the biggest characteristics of modern people was being heartless; they could joke around at any time.

"I could only be tempted if she didn't have facial tattoos."

"Stop dreaming," Mu Min said. "Although women of all ages and classes can be identified as Jin Mu, it's mainly middle-aged and elderly women, especially widows with no one in their natal families, because they lack the protection of family power."

He Ping nodded and said, "Since we are willing to take her in, I'll try when the time comes. I can't say for sure if it will succeed."

The Ao Ya had already come to urge them, and a large crowd of curious onlookers had gathered outside. Cui Yunhong hurriedly made assignments.

"Comrades," Cui Yunhong said. "Now we have to guard against contingencies. When necessary, we might have to flee quickly. Let's familiarize everyone with the plan again. In case of any accident, everyone acts according to the plan, understood?"

It was decided that Xiong Buyou would accompany He Ping to see the patient, with Huang Zhuazi as bodyguard.

Cui Yunhong gave the team's only Glock pistol to them.

"If anything happens, fight your way out immediately," Cui Yunhong instructed. "Life is most important; it doesn't matter if medicines and equipment are lost."

Mu Min also came to instruct: "Don't be impulsive. The Li people value keeping one's word most. Leave some leeway when speaking. No need to be so nervous." She sighed, not quite approving of Cui Yunhong's arrangement as if facing a formidable enemy, feeling it was an overreaction.

"We all understand."

The others packed their luggage and readied their guns. The exploration team had brought four Remington shotguns, five-round hunting rifles, and a few derringer pistols—all loaded with ammunition, wrapped in banana leaves, and placed close at hand.

Arrangements made, early the next morning, He Ping's group, carrying the travel medical kit, followed the Ao Ya and Li Benqing to the Chief's house.

The Chief's residence was larger than the surrounding houses, and the materials used were also more refined. Class differences among the Meifu Li were quite obvious. He Ping and the others looked solemn. The able-bodied men of the stockade held back the crowd while escorting him forward. After a while, an old man walked toward them in welcome; this was one of the Chief's confidants.

The light in the room was dim. He Ping blinked for a long time before he could see clearly: a young man lying on a bamboo couch at the side of the room. A group of people clustered around, mostly women, some seemingly sobbing. The outside of the bed was screened by a bamboo slat wall.

He Ping glanced at the scene, then walked to the front of the bamboo couch. This person was only fifteen or sixteen years old, in the prime of youth. In the dim light, one could see his face was sallow, his head covered in sweat, gasping in pain.

His body was covered with a piece of tie-dyed kapok cloth. In the air, a scent of rot drifted faintly.

He Ping frowned. This smell didn't seem like sickness; could it be an infected wound?

"What illness?" He Ping asked.

A middle-aged woman with facial tattoos nearby hurriedly spoke to Li Benqing, who translated:

"It was originally just some redness and swelling on the leg. A few days ago, it suddenly flared up, raising a big lump, and his whole body became very hot."

Lifting the sheet, He Ping sucked in a breath of cold air. There was a huge abscess on this person's leg, and his body temperature felt very high. He opened the box, wiped his fingers with an alcohol cotton ball, and pressed the abscess. It was scalding hot, with a soft spot in the middle that had a pulsating sensation. He Ping already knew—this was an infection caused by trauma.

Surgery was unavoidable in this situation. He Ping disinfected his fingers again. Although it was just a minor outpatient surgery, he had never tried it on a human being before. At this moment, he couldn't help but feel a bit of regret.

Seeing his difficult expression, the woman beside him knew the person was hard to save and couldn't help wailing loudly. The people around also started shedding tears.

The old man who had welcomed them asked, "Divine doctor, can the Chief still be saved?"

"Hard to say," He Ping said cautiously. "We can try, but I don't guarantee he'll live. I can't be responsible if he dies. If you agree, I'll treat him; otherwise, I can only take my leave."

The Ao Ya agreed profusely, saying living one more year was good enough, begging the divine doctor to perform his magic.

He Ping asked for the patient to be carried outside—it was pitch black in there, impossible to perform surgery. He instructed them to fence the area around the patient's bed with curtains and set up a shed above to shade the sun. Outside the shed, stones were piled up to make a fire pit for boiling water, and people were ordered to fetch brand-new clay pots. He also asked for several bolts of white cloth, cut into three large pieces with a hole in the middle to serve as surgical gowns. The rest was made into masks and hats. After making them, they were boiled in water and dried in the sun.

The Li people in the stockade watched all this with both fear and curiosity. Everything was ready. It was already noon when the three men came out of the shed wearing white cloth gowns, white hats, and masks. The children were scared away. The eyes of the old people also revealed great unease and fear.

He Ping opened his medical kit and organized the items. He said to Xiong Buyou and Huang Zhuazi:

"His illness should be a streptococcal infection of the wound. It won't get better without surgery. If we drag on for a few more days, he'll likely either die of high fever or septicemia."

"Incision and drainage?" Huang Zhuazi was an outdoor activity enthusiast and knew a bit about self-treatment for minor injuries.

"Yes, only surgery can save his life," He Ping said. "You act as my nurses and help."

"Okay, tell us what to do." Huang Zhuazi agreed readily.

"First help me disinfect the instruments and prepare materials. By the way, also prepare some physiological saline."

"Need an IV drip?"

"For washing the wound. Pay attention to the preparation concentration of 0.9 percent."

"Alright."

There wasn't much alcohol in the medical kit, so the surgical instruments were disinfected using the simplest boiling method. The instruments needed were boiled in already boiling water for another five minutes and then disinfected with alcohol. He Ping put on gloves. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the scalpel.

The middle-aged woman outside—probably the Chief's mother—started to get uneasy when she saw them dressed strangely boiling various shiny things in water. When she saw He Ping pick up a small knife, she almost went crazy, crying and screaming outside trying to rush in, but was held back by several Ao Ya—He Ping had instructed them beforehand.

"What's the temperature?"

"39.8 degrees."

"Stuff some cloth in his mouth and hold him down." He Ping instructed them.

He Ping first thoroughly disinfected the area around the abscess with alcohol, then found the soft place on the abscess with a fluctuating sensation—he remembered Dr. Shi telling him when teaching simple surgery that surgical treatment of abscesses meant cutting from here to drain the pus. But saying it was easy; actually cutting into a live person really made him feel a bit weak. He adjusted his breathing and cut down.

Pus and blood almost sprayed out, splashing everywhere on their temporary surgical gowns.

Xiong Buyou almost cried out. This scene was really terrifying. He clearly felt the patient under his hands twitching and struggling, and immediately used all his strength to hold him down.

At this time, a burst of noise and many footsteps came from outside. He Ping began to wash the wound with saline water. The young Chief struggled even more violently. Huang Zhuazi and Xiong Buyou had to use all their strength to control him.

While busy, they saw Li Benqing slip in from outside. Seeing this scene, his face turned white with fright. Xiong Buyou scolded: "What are you doing coming in?"

Li Benqing said with a bitter face: "There's a racket outside, saying that handing the Chief over to you to treat is—is—"

As they spoke, someone seemed to be arguing outside. Unintelligible Li language rose wave after wave. The three men were all nervous. But things having come to this, they couldn't give up halfway. He Ping simply ignored it and just focused on cleaning the wound. After cleaning the wound surface completely, he stuffed gauze drainage strips coated with petroleum jelly into the wound and covered it loosely with medicinal cotton from the outside.

"Not using anti-inflammatory powder?" Huang Zhuazi asked.

"Need to drain now. Give him oral penicillin." He Ping looked at the dressing of the wound. Although it was a bit ugly, it was passable.

"Wait, you give him oral penicillin—what if he's allergic? He's dead meat!"

"I forgot!" He Ping was startled. "Switch to sulfanilamide tablets."

Immediately, they gave the patient oral sulfanilamide. At this time, the chaotic noise outside stopped. He Ping instructed that the family members could come in. The ones who entered were exactly the Chief's mother and the old Ao Ya who had invited them.

Seeing her son's face was listless but he seemed less in pain, the Chief's mother showed a look of relief. The old Ao Ya spoke at length to Li Benqing, who translated:

"He thanks you for saving his nephew. He asks if this counts as cured?"

"Not yet, need to wait a few more days." He Ping knew that before the temperature dropped, it was still a dangerous period. "You can give him water and some light food, but don't let his wound touch water or dirty things. Find someone to watch him day and night. He is having a fever now, so use cloth soaked in cold water to apply to him..." He Ping instructed a bunch of precautions, and finally, "Choose the person you think is most reliable to watch him. Apart from this, no one else is allowed to enter the shed, absolutely no one! If anything happens, come find me quickly."

Hearing He Ping say this, a look of worry floated onto the old Ao Ya's face. But he didn't say anything more, only saying everything would be done according to the divine doctor's instructions.

The three-man team came out of the shed. Their blood-stained gowns caused another commotion. Everyone set to washing the instruments, then boiling them in water to disinfect again. After finishing, the pottery used for boiling was smashed and buried. The temporary gowns, masks, and hats were all thrown into the fire and burned. This practice was originally just to prevent pollution from medical waste, but unexpectedly it was understood by the locals as a kind of witchcraft ritual. So much so that many years later, when the Transmigrator regime's work team returned to this place, a young team member recorded such a paragraph in his social survey notes:

"...The final stage of 'doing ghosts' to drive away illness for the patient is to throw a white cloth stained with spots of red, sometimes bloodstains, into the fire, and finally smash the pottery pot used for boiling things. All garbage will be buried. The whole ceremony officially ends..."

Returning to Li Benqing's house, someone sent food: roast chicken, eggs, fish, bamboo tube rice, rice wine—very sumptuous. It was just that the exploration team members had no appetite: the three who performed the surgery had been covered in pus and blood just now, and the others were worried about what would happen in the next few days. The riot outside the shed just now—the people inside didn't see it, but the others saw it clearly. A young man was constantly inciting something, and the crowd outside rioted several times. Fortunately, those few Ao Ya desperately suppressed it outside to maintain order.

"Don't worry, this Chief will definitely have a fever for a few days. With antibiotics, he won't die." He Ping said, "It's just a bit fishy."

"What?"

"He didn't get inflamed for no reason." He Ping took a paper packet out of the enamel box in the medical kit. Inside was impressively a thin bamboo splinter. "This is what I pulled out of the wound." He whispered, "It's a bit strange."

"He didn't know he was pricked?"

"That's quite possible." He Ping said, "Dr. Shi told me about many such cases. Fortunately, this thing isn't iron; otherwise, if he got tetanus, no one could save him."

"Damn, we won't get involved in some palace intrigue, will we?" Someone's imagination exploded.

(End of Chapter)