Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the withered trees on both sides of the national highway were blurred into a grayish-white blur in the light of the day. The bus bumped and jolted as it sped forward.

Cang Xiangrong leaned back in his chair, his consciousness teetering between drowsiness and lucidity. The cotton-padded jacket over his chest, soaked with blood, was no longer warm; the damp, cold fabric clung to his skin like ice. Shen Jingyi's hand remained pressed against his chest, not letting go. The second-year medical school curriculum hadn't yet taught how to treat open chest wounds, but she at least knew—bleeding exceeding 800 milliliters could lead to shock. She didn't know how much he had lost; she only knew that her hand pressing on the wound was trembling uncontrollably.

"How much longer until we arrive?" she asked the driver.

The driver said in a tense voice, "Twenty minutes...no, fifteen minutes, hang in there!"

The carriage was quiet. The passengers were still shaken and no one spoke. But their eyes were all fixed in the same direction, filled with worry.

The four thugs, their hands and feet bound, were still groaning on the ground, but no one went to look at them.

Outside the car window, morning light peeked through gaps in the clouds, casting a pale, bleak glow on the snow-covered field ridges—quiet, pale, like another world. His face was bloodless, his lips white, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep. But his brow was furrowed, as if he were struggling with something.

"You can't sleep. Do you hear me? You can't sleep."

His eyelids twitched, but he didn't open them.

"What's your name?" she asked again.

"...Cang Xiangrong." The voice was very soft, as if it were drifting from a very far place.

"Okay. Cang Xiangrong, my name is Shen Jingyi. Remember that, don't forget."

His lips twitched slightly, and he finally let out a very soft whisper: "...Mmm."

She didn't know how much time had passed. It could have been ten minutes, or it could have been half an hour. Her arm was so sore that she couldn't feel it anymore, but she dared not let go.

The car slowed down, and the ride became smoother. She then looked up and saw the outlines of several buildings emerging from the thin mist ahead through the car window. The gray-white walls became clearer, and the large red characters "Southern Military Region General Hospital" on the rooftops looked like a ball of fire, burning through the mist.

She suddenly felt a lump in her throat, and something welled up in her eyes. She lowered her head and continued pressing on Cang Xiangrong's chest, tightening her grip even more.

Just then, she heard someone shout, "We're here! We're here!"

The car slowly came to a stop, and the tires made a slight rubbing sound on the road.

The car door opened, and the driver sprang from his seat like a spring, rushing out of the car in a few steps. As he ran towards the emergency room, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Doctor! Doctor! Someone in the car is seriously injured! Emergency care is needed!"

In the emergency room lobby, the on-duty nurse heard urgent cries for help outside and immediately rushed out with a stretcher, followed closely by two nursing assistants. The wheels of the stretcher rolled on the concrete floor, grinding through the morning mist.

The nurse ran to the car door, glanced inside, her expression changed drastically, and she turned back to shout, "Quick! A stab wound to the chest, heavy bleeding!"

The on-duty doctor in the emergency department rushed out. He first examined Cang Xiangrong's wound, then quickly checked his pulse, his brow furrowing deeply: "His blood pressure is dropping; get him to the resuscitation room immediately—"

"Doctor," Shen Jingyi's voice was hoarse but unusually clear, "I am Shen Jingyi, a second-year student in the Department of Clinical Medicine at Pingchuan Medical University. His name is Cang Xiangrong. He was stabbed at an angle by a folded fruit knife on the outer side of his left rib. He pulled it out himself after it went in. I applied pressure for about fifteen minutes. I estimate that he lost between eight hundred and one thousand milliliters of blood."

The doctor on duty paused for a moment, then quickly nodded: "Shen... wait a minute, are you Dean Li's daughter?"

"Yes." Shen Jingyi did not deny it. Her gaze fell on Cang Xiangrong's pale face. "His name is Cang Xiangrong. There was a robbery on the bus. He was stabbed twice when he saved me. Please, you must save him."

The on-duty doctor's expression changed. Without asking any further questions, he turned and shouted into the emergency room, "Go and fetch Dean Li immediately—tell her daughter that the injured person she brought in has a stab wound to the chest, is bleeding heavily, and has unstable vital signs!"

The nurse inside responded and quickly ran to inform them.

The stretcher was quickly pushed into the emergency room lobby. The wheels bumped against the threshold, causing Shen Jingyi to stumble forward, but her hand remained firmly pressed against Cang Xiangrong's chest. Several medical staff surrounded her, skillfully monitoring vital signs, establishing an intravenous line, and drawing and preparing blood…

About two minutes later, the automatic doors to the emergency room suddenly popped open, and a middle-aged woman in a white coat strode out—it was Dean Li Xiuzhi. Only two buttons of her white coat were fastened, and her cap wasn't properly pulled up; a few strands of hair fell from under the brim, indicating she had clearly run all the way from her office.

She walked to the stretcher, her gaze passing over the medical staff, and immediately saw the hand pressed against the wound—covered in blood and trembling slightly.

The owner of that hand was her daughter.

Li Xiuzhi paused for a moment. She didn't look at Shen Jingyi first, but quickly lowered her head, gently pulling aside Cang Xiangrong's collar with her gloved hand to examine the wound. Then she raised her head, her gaze sweeping over Cang Xiangrong's pale face, and said in a steady voice, "Push him in, prepare for surgery."

Shen Jingyi still held onto Cang Xiangrong's chest, refusing to let go. Her voice trembling with tears, she said, "Mom, he's my savior! You must save him!"

Li Xiuzhi's gaze finally fell on her daughter's face, and she only glanced at her once. In her eyes were heartache, lingering fear, and a sense of relief that "my daughter is still alive," but she didn't say a word.

She reached out and placed her hand on the back of Shen Jingyi's hand, gently pressing it, and said, "Jingyi, let go. I'll do it."

Shen Jingyi loosened her fingers one by one. The blood had dried, staining the back of her hand a dark red, like a scab. Li Xiuzhi's hand slid in and pressed firmly against Cang Xiangrong's chest.

Shen Jingyi pulled her hand back, clenched it into a fist, and dug her nails into her palm.

Li Xiuzhi remained silent. She straightened up and said in a deep voice to the nurse beside her, "Complete blood count, coagulation panel, crossmatch—draw the blood now. Notify the operating room, prepare the thoracic surgery and anesthesia teams. Also, notify the injured person's family."

She didn't look at Shen Jingyi again, turned around and walked into the emergency room. The door closed behind her, shutting out the cold winter morning wind.

Shen Jingyi stood at the doorway, looking down at her blood-stained hands. The blood was cold, dried on her skin like a shell. Her body began to tremble. She squatted down and buried her face in her knees.

The emergency room was filled with hurried footsteps, the clanging of instruments, shouts of "Blood pressure dropping!" and "Prepare for a blood transfusion!"... The sounds mingled together like a pot of boiling porridge. Shen Jingyi squatted at the door, listening to the sounds without moving.

She didn't know how much time had passed when someone walked up to her. She looked up and saw a nurse holding a neatly folded, clean towel.

"Wipe your hands," the nurse said softly.

Shen Jingyi took the towel but didn't dry her hands. She gripped the towel tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white from the force.

At the same time, several uniformed police officers entered the hospital. They immediately spotted the large bus parked in front of the emergency room.

The police got into the car and immediately saw four thugs tied to their seats.

"Who's in charge?" the policeman asked.

The driver pointed to the man in the military coat who was strapped to the middle seat and said, "That should be him."

The man in the military coat had one swollen eye and scratches on his cheek from fingernails. He showed no fear upon seeing the police; his expression remained fierce.

The police officer walked up to him, squatted down, glanced at him, then took out handcuffs from his waist and snapped them onto his wrists. Several other officers also handcuffed the other three criminals.

"Keep an eye on him," the lead officer said. Then he turned to the driver and several other male passengers and said, "You, and the other officers who helped subdue the assailant, come downstairs for a moment to give your statements."

The driver and two or three male passengers got off the bus with the police and stood next to it. The police took out a notebook and started asking questions and taking notes.

The driver recounted the events in detail. Other passengers occasionally added a comment or two. After they finished speaking, the policeman asked, "What about the girl who was rescued?"

"It's inside," the driver pointed to the emergency room lobby.

The policeman closed his notebook and nodded: "Take me to her."

The driver walked ahead, followed by the young man and another middle-aged man. The police walked through the waiting area and pushed open the door to the emergency room lobby.

The lobby was much livelier than before. Several passengers who had gotten off the bus were sitting on the benches, including elderly people, women holding children, and family members of other patients. They were gathered in twos and threes.

"You have no idea, the scene was absolutely terrifying..." a female passenger was loudly recounting to several family members. More and more people were gathering around her.

The police officers scanned the crowd but did not find the girl covered in blood.

"There it is," the driver pointed to a corner at the entrance of the emergency room.

Shen Jingyi squatted there, leaning against the wall, clutching a towel in her hand. Her eyes stared blankly into the distance, unfocused.

The police officer walked over, knelt down, and asked softly, "Young lady, are you the girl who was rescued from the bus?"

Shen Jingyi looked up at the police officer, nodded, and said, "Yes, I am."

The police took out a notebook and asked Shen Jingyi several questions, such as her name, school, details of the incident, and contact information for her family.

The police officer paused for a moment when he heard who the girl's parents were.

He didn't ask any further questions, but solemnly instructed, "Student Shen, I am Li Wenming from the Nancheng City Public Security Bureau. You may need to come to the station to give a formal statement later. I hope you can cooperate."

Shen Jingyi nodded.

"Okay, then take care of yourself."

The police officer turned and walked towards her colleague. A cool morning breeze slipped in through the crack in the door. She lowered her head and slowly wiped the dried blood from her hands.