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

Beicheng, General Hospital of the Military Region.

This is a special care ward located at the far end of the top floor. The windows face south, and the sunlight is filtered through the heavy beige curtains, leaving only a few wisps of dim yellow dust floating in the air.

The room was quiet; so quiet that you could hear the faint dripping of the IV fluid. The air was filled with the distinctive pungent smell of Lysol disinfectant, mixed with a faint odor of blood.

The hospital bed was surrounded by people, but no one dared to speak loudly.

Several elderly men with gray hair huddled together, their white coats yellowed from years of handling chemicals. They were pointing and gesturing at two unassuming little items on a tray.

The tray was enamel, with a chipped edge revealing black iron. At the bottom of the tray lay a section of bluish-green bamboo tube and a thin, almost invisible strand of black hair.

The bamboo tube is no longer than a finger, with both ends shaved extremely thin, and the cuts are clean and sharp.

"Old Zhou, look at this knife skill."

The speaker was the head of thoracic surgery. He adjusted his thick glasses, which were as thick as bottle bottoms, and carefully manipulated the bamboo stalk with tweezers in his hand. "The angle of this beveled cut is exactly forty-five degrees. Even with a scalpel, it's not always possible to cut it this neatly on the operating table. But look at the texture; it was clearly carved with an ordinary knife."

The one called "Old Zhou" was Dean Zhou Hai. He didn't speak, but stared at the strand of hair picked up by the tip of the tweezers, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly.

Her hair was stained with dried blood, and a very delicate knot was tied in the middle.

The knot was so small that you wouldn't notice its special feature unless you looked closely.

"A square knot." Zhou Hai finally spoke, his voice hoarse and filled with disbelief and shock. "And it was a square knot tied with one hand. I've only ever seen this kind of knot demonstrated by top surgical experts in the Soviet Union when I was studying there. It's used to stop bleeding in extremely narrow wounds."

Several doctors around gasped in shock.

This is the best military hospital in the northern part of the city, but even they had never seen such an unorthodox approach.

"You mean..." The head of thoracic surgery swallowed hard, "Someone performed closed thoracic drainage and arterial ligation on Commander Gu in the middle of nowhere, without anesthesia, hemostats, or sutures, using only a scalpel, a bamboo stick, and a strand of hair?"

This is ridiculous.

Who would believe that if I told them?

But the facts were undeniable. When Gu Zheng arrived, his hemoglobin level was alarmingly low; an ordinary person would have died from hemorrhagic shock long ago. However, the bamboo tube was precisely inserted between his ribs, expelling the accumulated blood and air from his chest cavity, while the strand of hair tightly constricted the ruptured blood vessel, snatching his life back from the jaws of death.

"This person is no ordinary individual." Zhou Hai put down the tweezers, took off his glasses, and rubbed his sore eyes. "Even in the current main hospital, you couldn't find three people with this kind of skill and courage."

There wasn't even one.

He silently added a sentence in his mind.

Just then, the man who had been sleeping soundly on the hospital bed stirred.

First the fingers, then the eyelids.

Her long eyelashes trembled, and then her deep, cold eyes opened.

Gu Zheng, who had just woken up, still had some blurry vision. His eyes were met with a stark white ceiling and a damp, yellowish water stain in the corner. The noisy chatter around him gradually became clearer, and the piercing wound in his chest burned with pain, feeling like a saw was tearing at him with every breath.

But he didn't even frown.

His years of military service honed his near-numbness to pain.

"He's awake! The commander is awake!"

Someone shouted, and the doctors in white coats surrounding the bed immediately dispersed, making way for them.

Zhou Hai strode forward, bent down to check the IV bag, and then looked at the data on the monitor. A hint of joy appeared on his face: "Commander Gu, you're lucky. That knife was only two centimeters away from your heart. If it weren't for that 'expert' giving you on-site first aid, we'd probably only be meeting at your funeral right now."

Gu Zheng didn't speak.

His mind was still a little hazy, and fragments of his memory lay on the rocky beach by the stream.

The icy stream, the biting cold, and the suffocating despair of being on the verge of death.

And then... there was a hand.

The hand was cool, and when it pressed against his burning chest, it brought a strange sense of calm.

He remembered the eyes he saw when he barely opened them.

It's very bright.

Like the brightest star in the night sky over the Black Mountain, she was serene and focused, showing no trace of the panic one might feel at the sight of blood, nor the fear that an ordinary woman would have upon seeing a severely wounded man. The way she looked at him was like how he looked at a gun waiting to be disassembled on the training field—calm to the point of being cold.

Who is that?

Gu Zheng tried to sit up, supporting himself on the edge of the bed.

"Hey! Don't move! Don't move!" The head nurse exclaimed in alarm, quickly reaching out to steady him. "The wound was just stitched up; it'll be a real problem if it reopens!"

Gu Zheng dodged her hand, gritted his teeth, and forced himself to sit up straight using the strength of his waist and abdomen. Cold sweat slid down the contours of his resolute face, dripping onto the pure white sheets and spreading out a small wet patch.

He was shirtless, his chest wrapped in thick bandages, and his broad shoulders and back were covered with old scars of all sizes—the medals of a soldier.

"Where are my things?"

His voice was terribly hoarse, as if he had a mouthful of sand in it.

Hearing the commotion, Xiao Wang, the guard who had been standing guard at the door, burst in like a spring, clutching a military green satchel covered in mud.

"Commander! They're all here! They're all here!"

Xiao Wang's eyes were red, clearly from crying. He carefully placed the bag on the bedside table. "The strap of this bag is broken. I picked it up from the riverbank two kilometers downstream. The documents inside are a bit wet, but the handwriting is still legible."

Gu Zheng ignored the document.

He reached for the bag, the movement aggravating his wound and causing him to catch his breath in pain. He roughly unzipped it, his long, slender fingers rummaging inside.

This contains crucial information about the mission, as well as his identification and sidearm magazine.

The items were in disarray, clearly washed away by water.

A few seconds later, Gu Zheng stopped.

He turned his satchel upside down and shook it forcefully onto the bed.

Soaked documents, a few spare bullets, and a water-damaged lighter were scattered on the hospital bed with a "crash".

The only thing missing is the wallet.

Zhou Hai and the other doctors exchanged bewildered glances, wondering what kind of treasure this man was looking for.

Xiao Wang looked equally bewildered, scratching his head. "Sir, what are you looking for? If any equipment is missing, I'll take men back to search the mountains right away! We know this area well; even if wild dogs carried it away, we'll find it for you!"

Gu Zheng stared at his empty handbag, remaining silent for a long time.

His wallet contained about two hundred yuan in cash, several dozen kilograms of national grain coupons, and his military officer's ID.

"Keep the change, please."

He said something casually, picked up the bullets scattered on the bed one by one, and put them back into the magazine.

"Huh?" Xiao Wang was stunned.

Gu Zheng closed his eyes, and those cold, clear eyes reappeared in his mind.

It's a woman.

She is not old, and her hands are slender and long.

"Xiao Wang."

Gu Zheng spoke again, his voice deep and powerful.

"Here!" Xiao Wang instinctively stood at attention and saluted.

"Go check."

Gu Zheng opened his eyes, his gaze passing through the window to the distant, rolling mountains. Black Mountain Village was in that direction.

"Check if any educated youth who recently returned from the city or young women who have just returned to Heishan Village have come back recently."

Xiao Wang looked bewildered: "Why are you investigating this? Are they spies?"

"No."

Gu Zheng recalled the strand of hair that had saved his life, and the pressure the woman had applied to his chest.

To be able to maintain absolute calm and professionalism in that environment, facing a bloodied and mangled stranger.

This is definitely not something an ordinary village girl could do.

"Find out who knows medicine."