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

"Dr. Chen, when are we leaving?"

The woman looked up, clutching a plastic bag containing several boxes of medicine distributed by the pharmaceutical company. She was unsure whether she should take them with her.

Chen Ping said, "Let's go now. The car is ready and waiting downstairs."

The woman tied up the plastic bag and pulled a woven bag from under the bed, which contained clothes and bedding they had brought from home.

She couldn't carry it all by herself, so Chen Ping helped her put the woven bag on her shoulder and then bent down to pick up the child. The child hugged his neck, his small body very light, as light as a bundle of straw.

Even after I left the ward, the people in the corridor hadn't dispersed yet.

When people saw Chen Ping carrying a woven bag and holding a child as he came out of the ward, they spontaneously made way for him.

A middle-aged man reached out to help Chen Ping straighten the woven bag that was slipping down his shoulder and said, "Dr. Chen, good deeds don't always go unrewarded, don't take it to heart."

Chen Ping smiled but didn't say anything.

People in the corridor watched the woman pulling the child behind Chen Ping, and watched the man lying in a stroller being pushed out by the caregiver. Some sighed, some shook their heads, and some whispered, "This Dr. Chen, he really has the heart of a bodhisattva."

An old woman stood at the door of the ward, clutching a string of Buddhist prayer beads in her hand, muttering prayers, seemingly praying for someone.

Once I went downstairs, a taxi was already waiting at the door.

Chen Ping stuffed the woven bag into the trunk, put the child in the back seat, and the woman helped the man slowly get into the car.

The man settled down, opened his eyes, glanced at Chen Ping, and moved his lips as if to say something, but didn't.

Chen Ping patted him on the shoulder and said, "You'll be fine once we get to the health center."

The woman leaned out of the car window, her eyes still red, her lips trembling several times, and said, "Dr. Chen, you are a good person," before quickly pulling her head back inside.

The taxi drove away.

The taillights flashed twice, then it turned out of the hospital gate, merged into the traffic, and quickly disappeared from sight.

Chen Ping stood at the door for a while, then turned and went back to the inpatient building.

Back in the ward, Cui Ying's father had already sat up. The chessboard was set up, with the red and black pieces in their respective places.

He saw Chen Ping come in, picked up the red team's "general" piece, twirled it in his hand, and then put it down.

Chen Ping sat down on the edge of the bed and had just picked up a cannon when there was a knock on the door.

A man in his forties stood at the door, wearing a dark blue shirt and carrying a bag of fruit.

His face was round, and his belly was slightly protruding, making him look like an office worker.

He stood at the door, glanced inside, his gaze lingered on Chen Ping for a moment, then looked at Cui Ying's father, his expression somewhat awkward, as if he had entered the wrong door and was embarrassed to leave.

"Hello, who are you looking for?" Chen Ping put down the chess piece and stood up.

The man walked in carrying fruit, placed the bag on the bedside table, rubbed his hands together, and smiled. "Dr. Chen, I'm here to see you."

"Looking for me?" Chen Ping was taken aback. He looked the man over, but he didn't seem to recognize him.

"My surname is Zhang, and I'm also hospitalized on this floor, in the second room at the end of the corridor. I've seen everything you've done these past two days; you're a good doctor, and your medical ethics are impeccable."

He paused for a moment, rubbing his hands along the seam of his trousers. "I'd like to ask you to take a look at my condition. I've been in the hospital for over ten days, had all sorts of tests done, and taken all the medication, but I'm not getting better."

This man had come to see Chen Ping for a medical consultation; no wonder he seemed a bit awkward and embarrassed.

After all, Chen Ping wasn't a doctor here; he was just a family member accompanying a patient.

Chen Ping looked at him, but didn't rush to agree. He first asked, "What's wrong?"

The man pulled over a stool and sat down, saying he couldn't eat anything, felt nauseous at the sight of food, and wanted to vomit at the smell of foods he used to love. He also said his stomach was bloated, he kept burping, he couldn't sleep well at night, and he had lost over ten pounds.

After he finished speaking, he stretched out his hand, rolled up his sleeve, and revealed his wrist.

Chen Ping placed his fingers on it, and after three seconds, he let go.

"Mr. Zhang, this isn't a stomach problem, it's hypothyroidism. Insufficient thyroid hormone secretion slows down gastrointestinal motility and reduces digestive function, which is why you can't eat. You can get a thyroid function test to find out the cause," Chen Ping said.

The man paused for a moment, then rolled down his sleeves, his expression shifting from anticipation to skepticism.

"Thyroid? My stomach is upset, how could it be a thyroid problem?" the man asked, puzzled.

Chen Ping explained, "The stomach is the target organ, and the thyroid is the primary disease. Go back and get it checked. After you're done, bring me the results, and I'll prescribe some medication for you. It's not a big problem; you can just take the medicine."

The man nodded, stood up, walked to the door, then came back, pushed the bag of fruit towards Cui Ying's father, said "Dr. Chen, thank you," and left.

After watching him leave, Cui Ying's father asked curiously, "Are you sure it's the thyroid gland? Not the stomach?"

"Confirmed." Chen Ping nodded.

"You can tell the reason just by touching it with your hand?"

Cui Ying's father was starting to appreciate Chen Ping more and more.

Others may not be able to find the cause of a disease even after examining the patient using various diagnostic methods such as observation, listening, questioning, and palpation, and undergoing various equipment examinations.

It's amazing that Chen Ping can find the cause of the illness just by touching the pulse with his fingers.

If Cui Ying's father knew that Chen Ping had a cheat code in his mind that allowed him to see all the causes of illness, he would probably be even more shocked.

Before the game of chess was finished, another person arrived at the door.

She was an elderly woman in her sixties with completely white hair, wearing a dark red cotton-padded jacket. She was standing at the door looking inside, holding nothing in her hands, and only spoke after several seconds.

"Dr. Chen, could you also take a look at me? I've had back pain for over ten years. The X-ray showed a herniated disc. I've tried physiotherapy, acupuncture, cupping, and everything else, but it's not getting better."

I've been watching you give acupuncture to that liver cancer patient these past few days, and I was wondering if you could give me a few acupuncture treatments too.

Chen Ping let her in, pressed on her lower back a few times, found the sore spot, and asked her if the pain was worse when she sat for a long time and that it was better when she lay down.

The old lady nodded repeatedly.

Chen Ping said it was a herniated disc between the third and fourth lumbar vertebrae, which was compressing the nerve root, but it was not yet at the point of requiring surgery. Acupuncture combined with traction would help it get better in a month.

The old lady said she had already completed the discharge procedures and would go home tomorrow, asking which hospital Chen Ping was in.

Chen Ping said he was at the Siping Township Health Center, and the old lady said, "Siping Township? That's where my hometown is. I'll go to the Siping Township Health Center to find you when I get back."

The old lady left with a smile, but the door wasn't closed properly, and people in the hallway were looking this way.

Cui Ying's father pushed the chessboard aside, stopped playing, leaned against the headboard, looked at Chen Ping, and had a slight smile on his lips.

"You're treating patients in someone else's hospital ward. How does that make the hospital's doctors look bad?" Cui Ying's father said with amusement.