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

After the meal, everyone dispersed.

Chen Ping dozed off in the consultation room for about twenty minutes before being woken up by footsteps in the corridor.

He sat up, rubbed his face, and had just picked up his mug to take a sip of water when Wang Tao pushed the door open and came in.

"Dr. Chen, a car has pulled up outside. They're looking for you."

Chen Ping stood up and walked out of the consultation room.

A black Audi was parked in the yard, its body gleaming. Next to the car stood an elderly man in a dark gray jacket, his hair neatly combed, his back ramrod straight.

Zhao Guosheng had already gone to greet him, bowing even lower than usual, his face beaming with smiles, and his voice a half-octave higher than usual, "Old leader, why did you come in person? You could have just made a phone call and had Dr. Chen come to your place. How could I let you make the trip?"

It turned out that the person who came was the retired leader from the provincial government, from Songjia Village.

Old Song glanced at Zhao Guosheng and waved his hand, "Dean Zhao, you go ahead with your work. I'm here to see Dr. Chen. You don't need to stay here with me."

Zhao Guosheng's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded repeatedly, "Yes, yes, you're right, old leader. I'll get back to work now."

As he turned around, he gave Chen Ping a wink, meaning "Take good care of him," and then quickly returned to his office.

Chen Ping invited Mr. Song into the consultation room.

Old Song sat down in the chair, took off his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, and naturally stretched out his wrist.

Chen Ping didn't stand on ceremony. He placed three fingers on the finger and closed his eyes, calling out for about ten seconds.

The pulse was much more stable than last time; the floating sensation had subsided, and the rhythm was more regular, but it was still somewhat wiry and slippery.

Neck problems can't be cured in a day or two. This old revolutionary worked too hard when he was young, and now these old injuries are coming back to haunt him.

"Old boss, how's your sleep lately?"

Old Song withdrew his wrist, leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment, "It's a bit better than before, I can sleep for five or six hours now, but I still tend to wake up easily in the middle of the night."

"How's your neck? Are you still dizzy?"

"I haven't felt dizzy these past few days, but my head still feels a bit stiff when I turn it."

Chen Ping nodded and told him to take off his coat and lie down on the examination bed.

The silver needles were pulled from the needle case, gleaming coldly under the fluorescent light.

Fengchi, Tianzhu, Dazhui, and Jianjing – after inserting the four needles, the strength and rhythm of the finger twisting were as steady as the previous two times.

Old Song remained lying down without moving, only slightly relaxing his shoulders and letting out a long breath when the needle was inserted into Tianzhu.

"Dr. Chen, the acupuncture technique you use is different from what I had when I went back to the provincial capital last time. The head of the acupuncture department at the Provincial Hospital of Traditional Chinese Medicine used it on me."

Old Song turned his head to the side, his face slightly distorted by the pressure on the examination bed, but his eyes remained unchanged, still possessing that sharpness born of experience. "After he treated me, my skin ached for several days. After you treated me, I felt better that very day."

Chen Ping smiled and continued to twirl his fingers. "Each has their own teacher and their techniques are different, but the principles are the same."

Old Song didn't pursue the topic further and remained silent for a while.

Chen Ping removed the needles from his neck and pressed on the back of his neck to confirm that the muscles around his cervical spine were much looser than last time.

"Old boss, after two or three more acupuncture sessions, your cervical spine should be basically stable. In the meantime, be careful not to look down at books or newspapers for too long, and you can change your pillow to one that's half an inch lower."

Old Song sat up, stretched his neck, turned it left and right, and nodded. "Is there dinner planned?"

Chen Ping was putting the silver needles into his needle case when he heard this question. He paused for a moment and said, "Nothing much."

"Okay, let's go out for dinner tonight. I haven't been back to Siping Township for many years, and I'm not familiar with it. Can you suggest a place?"

Old Song took his coat off the back of the chair and put it on, buttoning it up one button at a time. His tone was more like giving an order than discussing something, but it was very kind.

Chen Ping thought for a moment, "There's an old Zhou's restaurant. The food is alright, but the conditions are a bit poor. Please don't mind."

Old Song chuckled, "Back when I was holed up in a foxhole, I could eat compressed biscuits with rainwater, so why would I complain about restaurants?"

Old Song left, while Chen Ping continued working.

Just before the end of the workday, Old Song's car appeared again in the courtyard of the health center.

Seeing this, Zhao Guosheng hurriedly went to greet him, but before he could speak, Old Song said, "I've come to have a meal with Dr. Chen, you're busy..."

"Okay..." Zhao Guosheng nodded repeatedly and left with a face full of envy.

After finishing his shift, Chen Ping followed Song Lao out of the health center and walked along the streets of Siping Township toward Lao Zhou's Restaurant.

Zhou Jie and Li Fang were just coming out of the pharmacy when they saw Chen Ping and Old Song walking side by side. Li Fang tugged at Sun Xiaoyan's sleeve, her lips moved, but she didn't dare to say anything.

There weren't many people at Lao Zhou's restaurant today; the window cubicles were empty.

Old Zhou personally brought out the menu. When he saw that it was Chen Ping who brought the people, and then looked at Old Song's attire and demeanor, his smile became even wider than usual. He put down the menu and walked towards the kitchen, calling out, "The usual, serve tea first."

Chen Ping ordered the dishes.

A dry-fried potato dish, the potatoes are fried until golden brown, and dried chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns sizzle at the bottom of the pot. The oil is still sizzling when it's served.

A steamed eggplant with garlic sauce, the eggplant cut in half and steamed until soft and tender, the garlic sauce was freshly chopped and then sizzled in hot oil, the aroma filling the entire room.

A plate of fried loach, freshly caught from the river, fried until crispy, even the bones are edible.

I also ordered a tomato and egg soup, a plate of smashed cucumber, a dish of peanuts, and two bowls of rice.

Old Song picked up a loach with his chopsticks, chewed it, then picked up another one, swallowed it, picked up the beer glass in front of him, poured himself a glass, and poured one for Chen Ping.

"Dr. Chen, where are you from?"

"My hometown isn't in Tianhai, it's a small place, you wouldn't even know it if I told you." Chen Ping clinked his beer glass with his.

Old Song drank half a glass of beer, put down the glass, and said, "With your medical skills, how did you end up in this place?"

Chen Ping picked up a peanut, chewed it several times, looked at the remaining beer foam in his glass, and said casually, "It's necessary for work."

Old Song glanced at him, didn't ask any further questions, and picked up his wine glass to take another sip.

After drinking a few bottles of wine, Chen Ping asked, "Old leader, I heard you used to be a soldier and fought in wars?"

Upon hearing the word "war," Old Song became quite talkative.

Old Song said he joined the army at the age of nineteen, and his first battle lasted two days and two nights.

He gets excited when the topic of war comes up. He rolls up his sleeve, revealing a deep scar on his forearm, a mark left from the front lines by shrapnel.

After speaking, he pulled his collar down, revealing a faded old mark on his collarbone, a scar from shrapnel from an artillery shell explosion years ago.

"Old leader, is there any good spot left on your body?" Chen Ping asked, holding up his wine glass.

Old Song pulled up his collar, chuckled, and raised his wine glass to clink with Chen Ping's. "A good place? To survive and be whole is already a blessing. So many people come off the battlefield missing limbs."

"There were also some people who stayed on the battlefield. They were just like me back then, only teenagers. Many of them were killed by artillery shells before they even saw the enemy."

"Several of my comrades were killed by artillery shells right in front of me. Their bodies were shattered beyond repair. It was too cruel..."

As he spoke, Old Song's eyes reddened.

Chen Ping had never served in the military or fought in a war, so he couldn't truly empathize with the situation, but he could understand it.