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

The young doctor next to him also leaned over and muttered, "Teacher Ma, this acupuncture technique looks rather strange, and the acupoints don't seem quite right..."

"What's so strange about it? What real skills can a township health center have?"

Dr. Ma said impatiently, "Quickly remove it, re-bandage it, and prepare for the IV drip..."

"Try pulling it out."

Chen Ping's voice came from behind, unhurried but carrying a weight that made people afraid to move.

Dr. Ma's hand froze in mid-air as she turned to look at him.

Chen Ping walked over, squatted down next to the woman, took her hand, pinched the tip of her middle finger, and gently squeezed it.

A stream of dark red blood seeped from under the fingernail. It wasn't much, but the color was dark, clearly indicating it was venous blood.

"A ruptured spleen causes internal bleeding, and the blood will accumulate in the abdominal cavity."

Chen Ping's voice was calm. "I used acupuncture to constrict the branches of the splenic artery, minimizing the bleeding. Now that you've removed the needles, the blood vessels will dilate again, and blood will spurt out. If you don't believe me, you can try it."

Dr. Ma stared at the needle for a few seconds, then looked at the woman's face. It wasn't the deathly pale of someone who had lost too much blood, but a pale white with a hint of blood. Her breathing was steady, even more so than the man with the broken bone next to her.

He hesitated.

The young doctor squatted down, shone a flashlight on the woman's eyelids, and felt her pulse. His expression changed slightly: "Teacher Ma, her hemoglobin... doesn't seem like she's lost a lot of blood."

Dr. Ma didn't say anything, and turned to examine the elderly man with tension pneumothorax.

The elderly man leaned against the car, his breathing was steady, his lips were no longer purple, and he was even able to say "Thank you, doctor."

Dr. Ma listened to the patient's lungs with a stethoscope. There were almost no breath sounds in the left lung field, but the compensatory breath sounds on the right side were very strong. The patient's blood oxygen saturation...

He glanced at the old man's lips and nails; they were rosy.

wrong.

Even if a patient with tension pneumothorax undergoes thoracentesis to decompress the airway, it is impossible for them to recover so quickly.

Such patients usually require a closed chest drainage tube connected to a water-seal bottle, and need to be observed for at least several hours to stabilize.

But this old man was breathing smoothly and speaking with strength. He didn't look like someone who had just been pulled back from the brink of death.

Dr. Ma stood up, looked at Chen Ping, and his eyes changed.

It wasn't the condescending scrutiny of before; it was tinged with doubt and... disbelief.

"That acupuncture technique for chest decompression..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "was it your own idea?"

"It's a family heirloom," Chen Ping said casually.

Dr. Ma remained silent for a moment, then turned to look at the boy with the cervical spine injury.

The boy was firmly immobilized by splints and bandages, his head and neck unable to move at all, his posture so perfect that he couldn't find fault with it.

He reached out and felt the tightness of the splint, and then checked that the boy's limbs still had muscle strength and sensation, indicating that the spinal cord was not completely damaged.

This level of performance is better than some of the resident physicians under his supervision.

"Your health center... only has this many people?" Dr. Ma stood up, his tone softening considerably.

"Yes." Chen Ping nodded.

Dr. Ma glanced at him again, said nothing more, and instructed people to lift the wounded upstairs.

The woman with a ruptured spleen should be sent first, followed by the elderly with tension pneumothorax, and then the boy with a cervical spine injury.

All three seriously wounded were survived.

When the two nurses from the county hospital were carrying the stretcher, they noticed the needles on the woman's body and hesitated for a moment: "Dr. Ma, these needles..."

"Don't move it," Dr. Ma said. "Lift it up as is, and we'll remove it when we get to the hospital."

The nurse paused for a moment, then nodded.

The young doctor followed behind, glancing back at Chen Ping every now and then, his eyes holding something more.

He jogged a few steps to catch up with Dr. Ma and said in a low voice, "Dr. Ma, the patient with the ruptured spleen has very stable vital signs."

And that pneumothorax case—the puncture point was ridiculously precise, right at the second intercostal space along the midclavicular line—textbook-level localization. How could someone from a township health center have this level of skill?

Dr. Ma didn't answer. He quickened his pace and, when he reached the middle of the slope, suddenly stopped and looked back.

Chen Ping was still standing at the bottom of the slope, the moonlight shining on him. His hands were covered in blood, and he was holding a wooden box in his arms. He was talking to a girl with a ponytail next to him.

Dr. Ma stood for two seconds, then turned around and continued walking uphill.

When he got up there, he saw Wang Jianguo handing over the list of wounded to a nurse from the county hospital.

Wang Jianguo handed over Chen Ping's triage results. Dr. Ma took a look and saw that the patient's number, injury assessment, treatment measures, and transfer priority were all clearly written, which was more professional than many emergency department triage records he had seen.

"Who wrote this?" Dr. Ma asked.

"I wrote it as Dr. Chen instructed," Wang Jianguo said.

Wang Jianguo was clever; he didn't say who wrote it, but rather that it was written according to Chen Ping's instructions.

This triage record is very professional. Although it was written by Wang Tao, it was simply based on what Chen Ping said.

Dr. Ma folded the paper, put it in his white coat pocket, and didn't say anything.

The second ambulance drove off, its lights flashing, disappearing into the night with a wail.

The slope quieted down, leaving only a few villagers and Chen Ping and his group.

Chen Ping sat on the ground, leaning against the overturned minibus, with the wooden box on his knees.

The blood on my hands had dried and was stretched taut on my skin.

Cui Ying sat next to him without saying a word, and handed him a bottle of saline solution. Chen Ping took it and drank a mouthful.

"That doctor from the county hospital just now," Cui Ying said softly, "his attitude at the beginning was really unpleasant."

"That's normal." Chen Ping smiled. "People from big hospitals all think that township health centers are just makeshift operations."

"After that, he stopped talking." Cui Ying's lips curled up slightly. "He was stunned by you."

Chen Ping didn't reply, but looked up at the moon in the sky.

Footsteps came from up the slope; someone was coming down the slope.

The flashlight beam shone briefly; it was the young doctor.

"Dr. Chen."

He stood a few steps away, a little embarrassed. "Teacher Ma asked me to come down and ask which acupoints you used to treat the patient with the ruptured spleen. He said he needs to write it down in the medical record."

Chen Ping glanced at him: "Zhangmen, Qimen, Zhongdu, Diji. Insert the needle 1.2 inches into Zhangmen, use the reducing method for three minutes, insert the needle 0.8 fen into Qimen, use the tonifying method..."

"Wait, wait, wait!" The young doctor frantically pulled out his phone, opened the notes app, and said, "Please speak slowly, I'll write this down."

Chen Ping repeated it again, and the young doctor typed it in word by word, then read it aloud to check.

"And the pneumothorax puncture," the young doctor looked up, "what kind of needles did you use...?"

"Disposable acupuncture needles, 0.35×75 mm."

The young doctor paused for a moment, typed a line on his phone, and muttered, "Using acupuncture needles for a thoracentesis... who's going to believe this when I tell everyone..."

He finished taking notes, put his phone back in his pocket, glanced at Chen Ping, and suddenly bowed: "Dr. Chen, I've learned a lot today. Thank you."

After saying that, he turned and ran, but after a couple of steps he turned back and shouted, "Teacher Ma said he admits defeat and asked me to tell you!"

The footsteps faded into the distance.

Cui Ying chuckled beside her: "That Dr. Ma's face changed so quickly."

Chen Ping shook his head, let out a long sigh with a bitter smile.

Although this car accident was dangerous, the fact that no one died is a stroke of good luck.

Fortunately, their clinic was nearby. If they had arrived any later, none of these seriously injured people would have survived!