Chapter Seventy-Seven: Seeking Medicine

While driving, Zhang Wenhao made a call to his mother, informing her that he would be celebrating the rebirth of Class Twenty-One with Li Nan and a few classmates. He might return home late tonight or perhaps not at all. His mother didn’t suspect anything and merely reminded him to drink less and try to come home early. Zhang Wenhao promised her not to worry, then focused on driving. Although it was his first time behind the wheel, Zhang Wenhao felt an inexplicable excitement; yet, in his mind, he was already a seasoned driver. This old model Passat was a manual, and Zhang Wenhao’s coordination between the accelerator and clutch was so perfect that every gear shift was smooth. If there had been passengers, they would hardly have noticed any jolt during the shift. He could rely solely on the sound of the engine and the feel of the car’s speed, never needing to glance at the speedometer or tachometer, and still hit the sweet spot for shifting gears. Such mastery would astonish even the instructors at the driving school.

This was the greatest advantage of the Super Learning System: as long as you had points and exchanged them for a skill, you would instantly become an expert in that field.

The night’s traffic was smooth, and there were no police checks for drunk driving or licenses. Zhang Wenhao reached the entrance of Renai Hospital in the High-Tech District in less than twenty minutes. He parked in front of the emergency room and rushed inside. The emergency room was particularly quiet tonight, barely a sound could be heard. Just as Zhang Wenhao was about to head to the duty doctor's office, a door opened and a girl stepped out, bumping right into him.

Afraid she might be knocked over, Zhang Wenhao instinctively caught her in his arms, taking two steps forward with her to counteract his own momentum.

“My apologies,” Zhang Wenhao said quickly, releasing the girl as soon as he regained his balance.

The girl looked at him in surprise and exclaimed, “Oh, it’s you!”

“And you are?” Zhang Wenhao frowned, sizing her up. She wore a nurse’s uniform, but he didn’t recognize her. Did she know him?

The nurse spoke excitedly, “Last time, I went on an emergency call with Dr. Li to the Senge Hotel Apartments. You were the one who saved that severely injured man! I helped with the blood transfusion then.”

Realization dawned on Zhang Wenhao. This was the young nurse who, masked at the scene, had been asked by him to give Chen Feng a pressurized transfusion. She looked about nineteen or twenty, serene and quite pretty.

Zhang Wenhao blurted, “By the way, is the doctor who went with you last time on duty tonight?”

“He is,” the nurse replied, and for some reason, her gaze carried a hint of shyness, perhaps still awed by Zhang Wenhao’s actions that day. Blushing, she said, “Dr. Li and I are in the same group. He’s in the office; I’ll take you there.”

“Thank you, then.”

The young nurse led Zhang Wenhao to the office and knocked. A lazy voice came from inside, “Come in.”

She pushed open the door and said to the doctor reclining in the chair with his eyes closed, “Dr. Li, look who’s here.”

Dr. Li opened his eyes a sliver, and upon seeing Zhang Wenhao, jumped up from his chair and greeted him warmly. “Zhang Wenhao, what brings you here?”

Zhang Wenhao smiled, “I need your help with something.”

“Go ahead, as long as it’s within my ability.” Ever since that emergency rescue, Li Changyun had been deeply affected. In his six years of practice, he had never witnessed such a miraculous rescue—someone he thought was doomed, saved by an eighteen-year-old high school student. The technique Zhang Wenhao used later amazed even the veteran specialists who operated on Chen Feng. Since then, Li Changyun had sought out old professors at the medical school for materials on battlefield emergency care, determined to strengthen his shortcomings, hoping that one day he, too, could bring people back from the brink with superb medical skills.

Zhang Wenhao glanced at the young nurse and said, “This is a fairly private matter. Could we speak alone?”

The nurse was clever enough to smile sweetly at Zhang Wenhao and said, “I won’t interrupt; you two talk.”

Zhang Wenhao thanked her and, after entering, closed the door behind him. He turned to Li Changyun. “Dr. Li, I need your help acquiring some medical tools and medicines. This must be kept absolutely confidential; not a soul can know.”

Li Changyun had heard about Zhang Wenhao’s unusual background—the rumors had spread like wildfire through the hospital. It was said that Director Wang of the precinct and Director Han from the provincial bureau had both visited, and, most critically, one of the relatives in plain clothes was supposedly the deputy commander of the Southern River Military District. Now Zhang Wenhao had come to him for the hospital’s most commonplace tools and medicines; Li Changyun readily agreed.

“Tell me what you need. I’ll prepare it right away. Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word.”

“I need surgical scissors, hemostatic forceps, tweezers, bandages, hemostatic gauze, disinfectant, medical alcohol, suturing needles and thread, several disposable IV sets, high-dose anti-inflammatory antibiotics, injections, burn ointment, concentrated glucose, and either Dolantin or morphine.”

Li Changyun was stunned. As a doctor, he immediately recognized these were standard supplies for treating gunshot wounds. He cried out, “Wenhao, this is exactly what you’d need for gunshot injuries! What happened?”

Unconsciously, he now addressed Zhang Wenhao as Wenhao. Seeing that Zhang Wenhao’s expression didn’t change, Li Changyun felt a flicker of excitement—if he could get closer to Zhang Wenhao, perhaps one day Zhang Wenhao could help him.

Zhang Wenhao smiled, “Not a gunshot wound. My dog was hit by a steel ball gun. Veterinary hospitals can only handle fever and colds; they don’t have surgical facilities, so I have to do it myself.”

Li Changyun nodded. Though he was suspicious, he knew better than to ask questions he shouldn’t. “Everything except morphine and Dolantin is easy to get. Those two are controlled substances; you know how it is—if they hit the black market, they become narcotics. Honestly, I can’t get them.”

Zhang Wenhao frowned, clicking his tongue. “Without them, the pain will be too much. I’m afraid my dog won’t make it.”

“Let me give you some sedatives and ordinary painkillers instead,” Li Changyun offered. “They’ll help a bit.”

Zhang Wenhao suddenly remembered acupuncture anesthesia—a method where, if used correctly, acupuncture can temporarily block the nervous system, similar in effect to drug anesthesia. He asked, “Do you have silver acupuncture needles? Could you get me a box?”

“There aren’t any in the emergency room,” Li Changyun said after thinking it over. “I’ll go to the Traditional Medicine department and get you a box. Any head nurse can provide them; they’re cheap and don’t require paperwork.”

Zhang Wenhao hurriedly thanked him. “That’s a huge help.”

“No need for thanks. I hope I’ll have the chance to learn from you sometime,” Li Changyun replied. “If your dog’s been injured by a steel ball gun, time is of the essence. I’ll go get the supplies now; wait here.”

Zhang Wenhao nodded. Li Changyun quickly ran out. For him, most of the medical tools and medicines Zhang Wenhao requested were readily available in the emergency room. Any emergency kit would have them, even plasma. The emergency room operated with a lot of flexibility; medicines and equipment were used on an ad hoc basis, not requiring paperwork. Doctors often pocketed a bit, charged to the patient’s bill, and no one really checked how much medicine or equipment was actually used during emergencies—as long as it wasn’t excessive, it could be glossed over.

Li Changyun soon gathered all the medicines and equipment Zhang Wenhao needed, then went to the Traditional Medicine department and got a box of ordinary silver needles from the head nurse. In less than twenty minutes, he returned with everything packed in a cardboard box.

“Here, check if this is enough. If anything else is missing, I’ll get it for you.”

Zhang Wenhao inspected the contents. There were plenty of IV sets, injection fluids, and antibiotics—more than enough to treat the injured woman. He thanked Li Changyun, “Dr. Li, this is urgent. Give me your phone number; I’ll treat you to a meal soon.”

Li Changyun didn’t care about the meal, but he did care about getting closer to Zhang Wenhao. He took out his business card and placed it in the box. “Your situation is critical; get going. If you need anything, call me and I’ll bring it to you.”

Zhang Wenhao’s impression of Li Changyun improved greatly. This man was truly attentive; when he took out the business card, Zhang Wenhao wanted to put down the box and accept it with both hands, but Li Changyun noticed and simply tossed the card into the box, showing his thoughtfulness.

Zhang Wenhao didn’t stand on ceremony. “Alright, I’ll head back now. Thank you, Dr. Li.”

Li Changyun saw Zhang Wenhao out, watched as he got into the Passat and placed the box in the passenger seat, and was surprised—a senior high student shouldn’t have a driver’s license. He reminded him, “Wenhao, drive carefully. Don’t rush.”

Zhang Wenhao nodded, thanked him again, and drove off. Though there were still many people guarding the exits on Jiangquan Road, none paid attention to the Passat. Zhang Wenhao parked at the entrance, got out, checked his surroundings, found no one nearby, quickly opened the gate, and drove in.

Once inside, Zhang Wenhao ran to the injured woman with the box. Her wound was still bleeding steadily. Judging from the pool of blood on the floor and estimating the bleeding during her escape, she had lost roughly 700 to 800 milliliters. Though the amount was considerable, it wasn’t life-threatening.