Sent to the countryside, I turned the health center into a top-tier hospital.

Zhao Guosheng took another sip of tea: "Alright, go back to your dorm and rest for a bit. We officially start work at 8:30. You just arrived, and you haven't unpacked your things yet, so go and get them ready. Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay, thank you, Dean Zhao."

Chen Ping turned and walked towards the backyard.

As he passed the pharmacy, Li Fang was peering out the window. Seeing him approach, she called out cheerfully, "Dr. Chen, what did you have for breakfast?"

Soy milk and fried dough sticks.

"Uncle Liu's family?"

"right."

"Isn't their fried dough stick delicious? Let me tell you, their chili sauce is absolutely amazing. Try it tomorrow."

Chen Ping smiled and nodded, then continued walking.

The poplar leaves in the backyard rustled in the wind, and a few sparrows hopped from branch to branch.

He pushed open the dormitory door, and sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a bright square on the floor.

The wooden box lay quietly on the table.

Chen Ping walked over, sat down by the bed, and stared at the wooden box for a long time.

The old wood had darkened in color, and its edges were rounded, making it smooth to the touch.

The brass lock was rusted and the keyhole was almost completely blocked by rust.

When he was a child, he tried to poke it with a wire, but he couldn't.

When I grew up, I tried hitting it with a hammer, but it didn't break.

This box is really strange; it looks tattered and broken, but you just can't open it.

He was only six years old when his parents disappeared.

He doesn't remember much about things before he was six years old.

I only remember that my father would always fiddle with this box at night, and my mother would watch beside him. The two of them would sit quietly without saying a word.

One night, he woke up in the middle of the night and saw his father kowtowing to the box, which frightened him so much that he cried loudly.

His mother comforted him, saying that they were worshipping their ancestors and that he shouldn't be afraid.

Then one day, my parents went out and never came back.

The relatives searched for a while, reported it to the police, but in the end, nothing came of it.

Some say they ran away, some say they died, and others say they were taken away by someone.

Chen Ping didn't believe it; he felt that his parents were still alive, just not coming back.

This box is the only memento they left him.

Chen Ping took a deep breath, picked up the wooden box from the table, and placed it on his lap.

The copper lock gleamed with a dull light in the sunlight.

He reached out and grasped the lock.

As with countless times before, the lock remained completely still.

But this time is different.

The moment his fingers touched the lock, a warm sensation came from his fingertips, like holding a stone that had been baking in the sun all day.

That warmth traveled up my fingers, palms, and wrists, up my arms, down my shoulders, and finally into my head.

Chen Ping suddenly jolted awake.

It wasn't pain, it was an indescribable feeling.

It was as if someone had opened a window in his mind, and the light from outside rushed in, so bright that he couldn't open his eyes.

"Click."

A soft sound.

The brass lock is open.

Chen Ping was stunned.

He looked down at the lock; the bolt had already popped out and was lying quietly on the latch.

He tried pushing the box lid, and the lid popped open.

There was only one book in the box.

To be precise, it is a very thin old book, the cover paper is yellowed and brittle, and the corners are curled up.

There were a few words written on it, not in printed font, but in handwritten calligraphy. The strokes were skillful and experienced, as if written by a professional.

"Chen's Medical Classics".

Chen Ping reached out and picked up the book.

The instant his fingers touched the cover...

boom!

It was as if something had exploded in his mind.

Countless images, words, patterns, acupoints, meridians, prescriptions, acupuncture techniques... flooded his mind like a burst dam.

He saw a figure gesturing in the air, its fingers holding silver needles, pricking the mannequin one by one, and with each needle prick, a passage of text flooded into his memory.

Temples, Baihui, Tanzhong, Qihai, Guanyuan... each acupoint seems to be engraved into his bones.

Floating needle, parallel needle, raised needle, side needle, praise needle... a variety of needle techniques unfolded before his eyes.

The images flashed by so fast that Chen Ping didn't have time to react.

He tried to close his eyes, but the images weren't seen with his eyes; they were directly crammed into his brain.

He tried to shout, but he couldn't open his mouth. He was frozen in place, sitting stiffly on the bed.

I don't know how much time passed, maybe only a few seconds, maybe several minutes, but that feeling finally stopped.

Chen Ping was panting heavily, his forehead covered in sweat, and the back of his clothes was soaked.

He looked down at the book in his hand. It was still the same book, lying quietly in his palm, the four characters "Chen's Medical Classic" on the cover gleaming slightly in the sunlight.

But my mind is filled with many more things.

There were so many things that he couldn't sort them out in a short time, but he knew that all of them were there.

It's as if someone has stuffed a huge library into his memory; he doesn't have time to browse it now, but he can find it anytime he wants.

"Dr. Chen! Dr. Chen!"

Cui Ying's voice came from outside the door, "It's time to go to work!"

Chen Ping snapped out of his daze, took a deep breath, put the ancient book back into the wooden box, closed the lid, and locked it with the copper lock.

The lock clicked shut again.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, stood up, and looked at himself in the mirror.

His face was a little pale, but he seemed to be in good spirits.

He patted his wrinkled shirt, pushed open the door, and went out.

Cui Ying stood at the door, holding a folder in her hand, tilting her head to look at him: "What's wrong? You don't look well."

"It's nothing, just a bit stuffy," Chen Ping smiled. "Let's go."

The two people walked one after the other through the courtyard toward the front yard.

The sun had fully risen, and its warmth felt wonderful on my skin.

Several old hens were squatting under the locust tree in the front yard, clucking and digging in the dirt.

The banner at the entrance of the courtyard fluttered loudly in the wind.

Zhao Guosheng was already waiting in the front yard, holding an enamel mug, with Wang Jianguo, Liu Wei, Wang Tao and Li Fang standing beside him.

"Come, Dr. Chen, let me show you around first."

Zhao Guosheng waved and led Chen Ping on a tour of the health center.

Let's start in the consultation room.

Zhao Guosheng pushed open the door to the first consultation room: "This is Wang Jianguo's consultation room. He usually sees patients here for headaches, colds, and fevers."

Chen Ping glanced at it.

An old-fashioned examination table, two chairs, and a blood pressure monitor, stethoscope, and thermometer on the table—all the most basic equipment.

There was a metal cabinet in the corner, inside which were several yellowed medical records.

"Is it a blood pressure monitor or a mercury one?" Chen Ping asked.

"That's right." Wang Jianguo smiled. "I've been using it for over ten years, and it's very accurate."

Next up is the pharmacy.

Li Fang pushed open the door, and Chen Ping went in to take a look.

Two rows of iron racks, with medicine scattered about.

Cold medicine, painkillers, berberine, erythromycin ointment, and even antibiotics are limited to the most basic cephalosporins and penicillin, and in small quantities.