Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Zhao Shanhe slept very soundly.

The kang (heated brick bed) inside was very hot, and a layer of white frost covered the window paper. The air was filled with the smells of medicine powder, blood, and the lingering stench of tiger skin.

Lin Xiu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her eyes still closed.

She held a half-bowl of warm water in her hand, and every now and then she would dip her chopsticks in the water to moisten Zhao Shanhe's chapped lips.

The sunlight outside gradually brightened.

Old Chen, the village's old doctor, stepped across the threshold, carrying a tattered wooden medicine box and sweating profusely.

When Old Sun completely cut open Zhao Shanhe's blood-stained cotton-padded jacket, revealing the deep, bone-revealing, and flesh-rolled-out blood groove at the base of his thigh, Old Chen immediately gasped and his brows furrowed into a tight knot.

Without even opening his first-aid kit, he stood up and shook his head repeatedly: "No, this wound is too big. Not only is it deep enough to expose the bone, but the flesh around the edge is completely frozen; it's bound to get infected."

Old Chen pointed to the purplish-black festering flesh, his voice heavy: "All I have in my box are mercurochrome, hemostatic powder, and gauze, enough for minor injuries. But for this kind of wound, just stopping the bleeding isn't enough; it needs to be cleaned, stitched up, and then treated with good anti-inflammatory medication."

The room fell silent immediately.

Without saying a word, Old Sun turned around, pulled an oilcloth bag from under the cabinet, and threw it directly into Old Chen's arms.

"Take a look at this."

Old Chen was startled by the blow. Looking down, he saw that the oilcloth bag had a string of Russian letters printed on it and was wrapped up tightly.

He reached out and untied the strap, dumping all the contents onto the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).

Upon seeing the gleaming steel scalpels, sterile sutures, and several glass medicine bottles with foreign labels, Old Chen's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up.

He picked up one of the small brown bottles with trembling hands and examined it for a long time under the light from the window paper.

"A Soviet military-grade suture pack for external wounds?"

Old Chen swallowed hard, his voice trembling with excitement: "My God, this is ampicillin powder for injection made in the Soviet Union! It's a top-grade antibiotic for treating sepsis and suppressing internal heat; it's a rare commodity that even city hospitals need a special permit to get!"

He rummaged through the medicine cabinet at the bottom, his eyes widening even more: "There's an unopened tube of imported local anesthetic down there! Old Sun, where did you get such precious stuff?"

"Enough with the nonsense!"

Old Sun glared at him irritably and then pressed Old Chen down onto the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).

"I've prepared everything for you, now get to the point where you're going to draw up the drugs!"

Old Chen suddenly came to his senses and dared not say another word.

He deftly tore open the packaging of the sterile syringe, filled it with anesthetic, and then cleanly injected it around the edge of the rotten flesh at the base of Zhao Shanhe's thigh.

The demand for imported drugs is rising very quickly.

Old Chen picked up the gleaming steel scalpel and sliced ​​it directly into the purplish-black rotting flesh.

The expected horrific struggle of a living person being torn apart did not occur.

Because the anesthetic was pressing down on his nerves, Zhao Shanhe, who was unconscious, only twitched his muscles instinctively, and his tense body relaxed slightly.

He was fast asleep, with only his heavy, steady breathing remaining.

Old Chen was a seasoned pro. He removed all the rotten flesh, broke open the extremely precious bottle of Soviet ampicillin, sprinkled the antibiotic powder thickly into the blood trough, and finally used a sterile curved needle to suture the wound tightly layer by layer.

It took more than an hour to complete.

Old Chen wiped the sweat from his forehead, wrapped Zhao Shanhe tightly with thick gauze from the first-aid kit, prepared the liquid with the medicine bottle, and inserted an imported anti-inflammatory injection into the muscle.

At the other end of the kang (a heated brick bed), the two dogs also benefited from the light.

Old Chen also cleaned and stitched up the wound on Heilong's stomach, and then applied the same Soviet-made special medicine.

The dog has lost too much blood; its body feels cold to the touch.

Lin Xiu specially found two old cotton-padded jackets to elevate it, placing it near the warmest part of the kang (heated brick bed) near the flue opening, and then poured half a bowl of warm water into it.

The Azure Dragon's injured leg was also treated with medicine and splinted, and it lay obediently next to the Black Dragon.

It rested its chin on its two front paws, occasionally pricking up one ear to listen to the sounds inside the house. Only after confirming that there was no danger did it wearily close its eyes.

The sun slowly climbed to due south, then gradually began to slant westward.

The room was unusually quiet.

After explaining the effects of the medicine and the time to change the dressing, Old Chen left with his tattered medicine box.

Old Sun took a break to change his blood-stained clothes, and Li Baotian, unable to bear the exhaustion, went home to catch up on sleep.

Lin Xiu was left alone in the room, guarding the kang (a heated brick bed).

She filled a basin with warm water again, wrung out a towel, and carefully wiped away the dried blood and black mud from Zhao Shanhe's face and neck, revealing his originally rugged features.

The firewood crackled and popped in the stove, making the room warm and cozy.

The mountain wind howled outside the window, and occasionally a few indistinct barks of dogs could be heard.

This lingering tranquility, tinged with the stench of blood and the bitterness of medicine, slowly permeated the small room.

This quiet afterglow lasted until late into the night.

The last embers in the stove went out, leaving only the faint glow of the kerosene lamp in the room.

Zhao Shanhe was awakened by thirst.

It felt like there was a handful of dry grass stuck in my throat, it was sore and dry.

He struggled to open his eyelids, and the dim light swayed before his eyes for a long time before slowly focusing.

A dull ache came from my groin and chest, but the burning sensation that made my bones feel cold had subsided.

He turned his head to the side, his gaze following the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) downwards.

Lin Xiu was lying on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her head resting on her arm, fast asleep.

Her thin floral jacket was draped over her shoulders, and even in her sleep, her eyebrows were tightly furrowed together, while she clutched a wrung-out warm towel in her hand.

Zhao Shanhe's Adam's apple bobbed.

He didn't say anything, but slowly raised his uninjured left hand, pulled over an old cotton coat next to him, and unfolded it to cover Lin Xiu's thin back.

This slight movement aggravated the broken ribs in his chest, and Zhao Shanhe couldn't help but let out a low, hoarse cough.

Lin Xiu jumped up from the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) as if she had been electrocuted.

When she saw Zhao Shanhe's open eyes, she was stunned for a moment, and then her eyes suddenly reddened.

Without saying a word, she turned around, picked up the half-bowl of warm water that had been simmering on the stove, and fed it to Zhao Shanhe little by little with a small spoon.

Warm water flowed down his dry, cracked throat.

He looked into Lin Xiu's bloodshot eyes, his voice hoarse as if sanded: "I've woken you up."

Lin Xiu shook her head, put down the bowl of water, and wiped her face haphazardly with her sleeve: "Are you hungry? There's some sorghum porridge heating up in the pot, I'll go get it for you."

I'm not hungry.

Zhao Shanhe grabbed her wrist with his other hand, his fingertips rubbing the chapped skin on the back of her hand. He said in a low voice, "Get on the kang (heated brick bed) and lie down next to me for a while. You haven't slept much these past two days, and your eyes are bloodshot. Don't ruin your health."

Lin Xiu bit her lower lip, but ultimately didn't break free.

She took off her shoes, carefully avoiding Zhao Shanhe's injuries, and lay down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) fully clothed, burying her face in the crook of his uninjured arm.

Hearing the steady, powerful heartbeat from the man's chest, Lin Xiu's nerves, which had been taut for a day and a night, finally snapped, and she fell into a deep sleep within half an hour.

Zhao Shanhe listened to his wife's long, even breathing, and then turned his head to look at the black dragon curled up at the chimney opening.

The black dragon seemed to smell its master's scent, and hummed twice in its sleep, its tail tip gently brushing against the kang mat.

Zhao Shanhe twitched the corner of his mouth and closed his eyes.