After being separated from my family, I became a darling of the military region thanks to my medical

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, Beijing was still enveloped in the festive atmosphere. In front of Donglaishun Restaurant, the snow was compacted by footsteps, and the bright red lanterns swayed in the north wind, exuding a joyful vibe.

Inside the shop, however, it was a completely different scene.

The charcoal fire beneath the copper pot glowed red-hot, occasionally sparking a few embers. The clear broth simmered in the pot, two pieces of scallion and a few slices of ginger bobbing up and down with the water, releasing a pure, fresh aroma. Steam rose, partially melting the frost on the glass windowpane, causing water droplets to trickle down the window frame.

"Scheiße! (Damn it!) It's so cold! This is like the Arctic!"

Hans huddled in the corner, wrapped in the military overcoat he'd borrowed from Gu Zheng, curled up like a frightened quail. His usually delicate engineer's hands, which were used to handling precision instruments, were now red with cold. He was holding a pair of bamboo chopsticks, which he struggled with like two unruly sticks, unable to pick up the thinly sliced ​​lamb rolls from the plate.

"Eat." Gu Zheng sat opposite him without looking at him. He stretched out his long arm, precisely picked up a stack of slices of meat with his chopsticks, and put them into the boiling clear soup.

He silently counted to three in his mind, flicked his wrist, and the discolored meat slices left the soup, landing steadily in the white porcelain bowl in front of Hans.

"Three seconds, if it changes color, scoop it out; if it gets too old, it'll be tough." Gu Zheng's voice was lazy, with a casual air characteristic of Beijing dialect.

Ye Zhen sat opposite, holding a ballpoint pen, drawing something on a crumpled napkin.

"Hans, eat first, talk later."

Hans stared at the grayish-white lump of meat in the bowl, his face filled with disbelief: "Ye, is this how you treat your guests? Boiling meat in plain water? This is an insult to the meat fibers! In Germany, we need black pepper, rosemary..."

Before he could finish speaking, Gu Zheng had already lost patience with this foreigner's rambling. He picked up the serving chopsticks, rolled the scalded mutton in the bowl of sesame sauce next to him, grabbed a chopstick of pickled garlic, and without saying a word, shoved it into the German's half-open mouth.

The rich sesame sauce coats the tender lamb, the salty and savory flavor of fermented bean curd and the spiciness of chive blossoms explode on the tongue, and finally, the sweet and sour crispness of the pickled garlic cloves instantly washes away the slight gamey smell of the lamb.

Hans abruptly stopped chewing.

His blue eyes were first confused, then wide open.

Three seconds later.

"Oh! Mein Gott!" Hans, no longer bothered by the heat, clumsily waved his chopsticks to grab food from the pot, even trying to grab the plate of pickled garlic with his hands. "What kind of sauce is this? It's magic! It's absolutely magic! Another plate, please! And that clear wine, I want that!"

"That's Erguotou, 65 proof, it's better than ten bottles of your dark beer." Gu Zheng picked up the green glass bottle, poured half a glass into the wine cup in front of him, and had a mischievous smile in his eyes. "Take it easy, you might lose your underwear if you drink too much."

Hans wouldn't listen to a word, picked up his wine cup, and downed it in one gulp. The strong liquor felt like swallowing a knife, burning his face red, but it also completely dispelled the chill that had seeped into his bones.

"Ha!" He exhaled a long breath, his whole body relaxing.

Three tables away, Vice Minister Li and several foreign affairs officers, who were responsible for accompanying the delegation, stared in disbelief, their chopsticks hanging in mid-air, unable to move. Was this really the same Siemens chief engineer who had been spewing insults and acting arrogantly on the phone? How come he was now acting like a starving ghost who hadn't eaten in eight hundred years?

After several rounds of drinks and dishes, Hans's face turned as red as a monkey's bottom, his tie loosened, and he let out a loud, unladylike burp.

"Ye, the blueprints." He held out his hand to Ye Zhen, his previously dazed eyes regaining some clarity. "This meat is excellent; I can reduce your technical consultation fee for it. But that snap-fit ​​structure, you must give it to me. Now."

Ye Zhen pushed the napkin with a few drops of oil over.

A few simple lines outline the internal meshing structure of the titanium-magnesium alloy pliers.

Hans glanced at it and was stunned, as if struck by lightning. He jumped to his feet, knocking over the vinegar dish beside him, grabbed a napkin, and brought it to his eyes, his lips trembling: "Genius...using the fatigue properties of metals to create a self-locking mechanism? God, what's going on in your head?"

"It's the stuff that doubled Siemens' stock price." Ye Zhen calmly took a sip of tea. "Can the machine in Shanghai be repaired in three days?"

"Three days?" Hans carefully folded the torn napkin, stuffed it into his shirt pocket, and patted his chest to confirm its presence. "I'm flying over right now! Forget fixing it, just give me the material proportions, and I'll even install a turbocharger! I'm leaving right now!"

Gu Zheng waved to Xiao Wang, the guard at the door.

"See them out." Gu Zheng shoved the half-finished bottle of Erguotou into Hans's arms. "Head straight to the train station. Sleeper tickets are already bought. Someone will pick you up when you arrive in Shanghai."

Clutching a bottle of liquor and clutching a priceless pack of napkins, Hans, slightly tipsy, was led away by a group of people. Before leaving, he shouted towards the bottom of the pot, "Save the broth! I'll come back for more after I fix the machine!"

The private room fell silent.

Ye Zhen looked at Gu Zheng: "You're quite adept at using the 'crossing the river and then destroying the bridge' tactic."

"Speed ​​is of the essence in war." Gu Zheng poured her a cup of hot tea. "As long as that old bastard is here, you have to spend the whole day with him. I'm not willing to do that."

Ye Zhen chuckled and lowered her head to take a sip of tea.

The fragrant aroma of tea concealed the fleeting thought that crossed her eyes.

……

Three days later, in Ye Zhen's temporary office.

It's less of an office and more of an abandoned warehouse vacated by the military hospital.

A huge map of China hung on the wall, covered with countless pins.

"no."

Ye Zhen threw the pencil in her hand onto the table, her voice cold and hard, "It will take another six months, more than half a year, for the center to be completed. What will happen to those children then?"

Sitting across from him, Dean Zhang Guohua took off his glasses and rubbed his temples: "Xiao Ye, you can't rush things."

"If there's no rice, sift the grains first."

Ye Zhen turned around, took out a stack of cards that she had prepared in advance from the drawer, and slammed them heavily on the table.

Those were three colors of cardboard: red, yellow, and blue, with simple forms printed on them using a mimeograph machine.

"What's this?" Zhang Guohua was stunned, picked up a red card and looked at it.

"Tiered medical service card." Ye Zhen pointed to the card, speaking rapidly with an unwavering determination, "Red: critical, immediate surgery is required, even if it means skipping the queue; Yellow: sub-emergency, intervention is necessary within six months; Blue: mild condition, observation and elective treatment are possible. We need to establish a mobile screening team to go here, here, and here."

Her finger pointed heavily at several blank areas on the map—those were the most remote suburbs and mountainous areas with the scarcest medical resources.

"Before the center is built, we will screen patients, create files, and register them. As soon as the machine starts, we will immediately push people into the operating room according to their color. We must not let children who could be saved die in the corridor because of waiting in line."

This is common sense in later generations, but in the 1980s, it was simply a fantasy.

Back then, patients would flock to the entrance of large hospitals and queue up. Whoever got a number first got one. Often, patients with serious illnesses would die before they even got a number, while patients with mild illnesses would occupy beds.

"But we don't have enough manpower..." Zhang Guohua smiled bitterly, putting his hands into his sleeves to warm them. "The hospital is short-staffed, who would want to run errands? It's a tough job. There's no allowance for going to the countryside, and you have to pay for your own travel expenses. It's tiring and thankless."

"Knock knock knock".

The urgent knocking interrupted the complaining.

Before anyone inside could answer, the dilapidated wooden door was pushed open forcefully, and two figures were swept in by the cold wind.

"I do!"

"I'm going too!"

The two voices spoke in unison, clear and resonant.

Ye Zhen looked up.

The woman on the left, wearing an eye-catching red wool coat and sporting fashionable big curls, with an arrogant expression, is Gu Zheng's cousin, Gu Linlin.

The woman on the right, dressed in a faded green military uniform, with a straight back and a dashing appearance, is Song Sisi, the leading actress of the performing arts troupe who once considered Ye Zhen her rival in love.

"Sister-in-law! I'm a student at Peking University, I can get my classmates involved!" Gu Linlin said quickly, slamming a manila envelope on the table and raising her chin. "This is an invitation from the Peking University Student Union. Our president heard about your slap in the face to those foreign experts in Germany, and he's given special permission for you to give a speech in the auditorium. With just a word from you, our top students at Peking University will be the most qualified volunteers in all of Beijing! I want to go too. I may not know how to treat patients, but I can help fill out the forms!"

Not to be outdone, Song Sisi stepped in front of Gu Linlin, gave Ye Zhen a standard military salute, and her eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Sister-in-law!" Song Sisi's voice was loud and clear, carrying the crispness of a soldier. "The cultural troupe is currently on break. Although we don't know how to use a scalpel, we're strong and can endure hardship! We'll handle the physical labor like climbing mountains and wading through rivers! And how could we soldiers be absent from screening work like this!"

Ye Zhen looked at the red and green colors in front of her.

My spoiled cousin from the past, and my former rival in love.

Now they stand there, their eyes shining with the same light. That light is called worship.

"This job doesn't pay." Ye Zhen leaned back in her chair, her gaze sweeping over the two excited faces, and said calmly, "You'll have to endure hardship, walking on muddy roads, sleeping in a dormitory, and you might even get scolded by your family."

"Tch, who cares about that little bit of money?" Gu Linlin rolled her eyes and threw down her gloves. "I just want to see if I can send out your red card and see if it can really save people like you say."

Song Sisi was even more direct, taking off her hat to reveal her neat short hair: "That's something only deserters care about. Sister-in-law, just give the order. Execute wherever you point."

Ye Zhen was silent for two seconds, then lowered her head and picked up the invitation letter from Peking University. When she looked up again, a genuine smile finally appeared on her lips.

"Okay." She stood up and handed the stack of cards to the two of them. "Then let's go to Kyoto University first. A lecture? Isn't it on holiday now?"

"So what if it's a holiday?" Gu Linlin snorted smugly. "Sister-in-law, you're an idol now. If you just say you're going, the threshold of the auditorium will be worn down."