Chapter 6
Lin Weilun soon discovered that although Mr. Ferry had superficially recognized his abilities and given him the qualification of a junior veterinarian.
However, the old veterinarian was still extremely cautious about his first independent visit.
Lin Weilun has been staying in the clinic these days. Following the old veterinarian's instructions, he treated a rabbit's broken ears, checked a hen's feet, neutered a male dog, and solved a hamster's flatulence problem.
His memory and body were constantly working together with each treatment, and now he was fully able to put the knowledge and operations in his memory into practice.
His movements became more and more skillful, and he hardly needed to use thinking and recollection to delay time. Ferry, who was standing behind him, became more and more satisfied.
That night, old Ferry suddenly stopped his assistant who was about to leave work.
"Don't worry, take this and go out with me first."
Lin Weilun blinked. This was not a toolbox for outpatient consultation.
Fortunately, their destination wasn't too far away, just across the street. The twilight cast a light golden glow over the busier streets, casting a faint golden glow over everyone, including the sign that read "The Fox and Hounds."
"Come in," the old man dodged the waiter carrying the tray, "this is the best tavern in Denham."
It turned out to be a dinner party, and I really had to follow a good boss.
Lin Weilun immediately followed.
The whole tavern was filled with the smell of pine and wine. An extra-large fireplace stood in the center of the lobby, but on that July evening, there was no firewood burning inside.
There were always friendly people around saying hello to Ferry, and some would stop to chat about their animals.
In the corner of the room were several tables where people were playing dominoes, and from time to time the men in shirts and waistcoats let out cheerful chuckles.
At the bar, the charming waitress was flirting with a customer. The man's hand inadvertently rested on the waitress's slender wrist, and then he picked up the full glass of porter beer.
The ambiguous excitement was hidden under the beautiful beer foam. The waitress who came out from the kitchen rolled her eyes, changed the direction of the iron plate in her hand, and passed by Lin Weilun.
It was a plate of brightly colored chicken, with herbs and butter as the main seasonings, a large amount of onions as the base, and it seemed that nutmeg and apples were also added, and it was slow-fried in an iron pan.
As I walked along, I saw that most of the round tables were placed with the same iron plates, and it turned out that they were all serving this dish.
Lin Weilun sniffed and it smelled okay, but he didn't know what it tasted like.
Noticing that his eyes were on the plate instead of his skirt, Old Ferry gave him a surprised look, then patted his shoulder lovingly. "Are you hungry? You can enjoy a meal here after we finish. They're famous for their fragrant herb-fried chicken and sweet oatmeal pancakes. They're really... uh... good."
That's what Old Ferry thought originally, and so did everyone in Denham. But the more he talked about it, the less confident he felt. Ever since he'd tasted Lingert's cooking, to be honest, he'd decided that cilantro-fried chicken wasn't that great anymore. At least, he wasn't craving it.
But the Fox Tavern is really great. After all, he has been here for many years. He couldn't help but say, "Even Earl Philip invites the chef here once a month to cook British food for him."
Earl Philip, this was the second time Lin Weilun heard this name.
The first time was at the home of the enthusiastic horse breeder. The hostess from Northern Ireland said that Earl Philip was the richest man in town and owned half of the land here, including Denham's pastures and farmland.
It seemed that this wealthy rural noble had become the unit of measurement in the town. The success of a store depended on whether Count Philip would pay for it.
Since they specially invite the chef to come to the restaurant, the chef must be very good.
What surprised Lin Weilun was that they were not there to consume, but to work.
The chubby chef received them in a low-key manner. He was surprised to see the unfamiliar faces. "You're finally here, Mr. Ferry! And this one..."
"The clinic's new junior veterinarian, Willenlingert," Old Ferry introduced. "He's a very nice guy."
Lin Weilun smiled politely.
"Oh, what a handsome young man!" The fat chef rubbed his belly. "Then let's go to the backyard first. I was so worried, but now that you're here, I feel relieved!"
Several people walked through the messy kitchen, where the steaming pots made banging sounds, like a welcome party.
But the welcomed person quickly walked out and came to an outer warehouse at the back.
There is a dog tied here. When it sees someone coming, the dog jumps on them enthusiastically.
A dog with cerebellar hypoplasia
The corner of Lin Weilun's eye twitched imperceptibly. Cerebellar hypoplasia... means he's stupid?
Letting a stupid dog guard the door is really...
The fat chef didn't notice the young man's expression. He looked around like a thief, and after confirming that there was no one around, he unlocked the door and invited the two to go in.
There were chicken feathers everywhere.
A blanket of chicken feathers fluttered in the air, and the hens screamed softly at the sudden intruder, but they fell silent after a few seconds.
Ferry looked around. "So what's wrong with these chickens? You think something's wrong with them?"
"Yes, yes," the fat chef seemed a little nervous, with beads of sweat oozing from his shiny forehead. "These chickens were just delivered this morning. I mean, we never noticed anything wrong before. But...but when we slaughtered them this morning, there were indeed some problems."
Having said that, the fat chef paused and took out a blood-stained sack from the corner behind the chicken coop. The sack was filled with dead chickens that had been plucked and gutted.
The fat chef placed the dead chickens on the ground one by one, looking like some kind of terrifying murder scene.
"Can you see that?" He adjusted his chef's hat and pointed at the wing of one of the chickens. "It's noticeably swollen. I originally thought it was just a broken wing, you know, a fracture or a bruise, but these chickens are bleeding profusely."
Old Ferry frowned, "Internal organs ruptured?"
"Yes," the fat chef stood up. "Anyone who slaughters chickens regularly knows that it's normal for one or two chickens to have this problem. But today, almost all of the eleven chickens we slaughtered had the same problem."
Lin Weilun raised the corners of his eyebrows slightly. This symptom reminded him of something.
Seeing the boss squatting down to inspect, he looked at the chef and asked, "Excuse me, where do you buy your chickens?"
"The Stewart family in the east," the fat chef said, "has the largest chicken farm in Denham. Not only our tavern, but also many small vendors in the market get their goods from him."
This is the same as what Mr. Ferry said at the beginning.
Lin Weilun had a guess in his mind, so he squatted down and touched the dead chicken on the ground.
Instantly, a line of dark green text appeared in the air: [A dead chicken suffering from gout]
really.
He moved his fingers and touched the victim chicken next door again.
[A dead chicken with fatty liver disease]
"Was there anything else wrong with the chickens when they arrived?" Ferry asked, wiping his hands.
"A little wilted?" The fat chef thought for a moment. "But that's normal. It's July now, and my hair melts in the heat, let alone these thick-haired little guys. Stuart has repeatedly assured me that there's absolutely nothing wrong with his chickens. By the way, didn't you issue the certificate for Stuart's chickens?"
The old veterinarian shook his head. "Since March of this year, Stuart has stopped looking for me and has been looking for Andre."
Although it was a hot summer evening, the fat chef felt a cold wind blowing in from outside, which gave him goose bumps on his back.
"Andre? Ha, ah, Andre is also... is also a good guy. He shouldn't make a mistake, right? Ha, hahahahahaha!"
He laughed dryly for a while, but when he met old Ferry's sharp eyes, he couldn't laugh anymore.
"No way?" The fat chef rubbed his nose nervously. "Andre is also an experienced veterinarian, Ferry, you shouldn't question your colleagues..."
Old Ferry suddenly interrupted him, "How long have you been aware of the problem chicken?"
“Today…”
"Lundin Cromwell!" Mr. Ferry suddenly raised his voice.
The fat chef shuddered with fear. He knew very well that his neighbor was a man who could not tolerate any grain of sand in his eyes. He was serious and stubborn. He looked more like an old scholar than a veterinarian.
The fat chef suddenly became deflated and hung his head. "Five days ago, last Sunday... You know, I don't have to kill the chicken myself, my apprentice does it all. But last Sunday, he suddenly came to me and said that something seemed wrong with the chicken."
Lin Weilun stood up and listened to the chef while lowering his eyes to wipe his hands.
The faint smell of chicken and blood lingered.
He turned around and touched the live chickens in the chicken coop.
"I didn't think anything was wrong at first," the fat chef said hoarsely. "You know, chickens often bump into things and cause internal bleeding, but I accidentally discovered that the vast majority of chickens are like this, so I, I..."
To the chef's surprise, the old veterinarian actually turned around and glanced at the unknown young man and winked at him.
Lin Weilun received the old veterinarian's gaze, nodded, and whispered, "I think you should change the origin of the chicken. The ruptured and bleeding internal organs are due to fatty liver syndrome. The swelling of the chicken wing joints is due to gout. These chickens are all problematic-"
His gray-blue eyes were like a guillotine, pronouncing death in the chicken coop.
"—every one, including the living ones."
Old Ferry: “…….”
chef:"!!!"
The round-headed man with the chef's hat looked at the young man in horror, then turned to the old veterinarian, "Mr. Ferry! Is he telling the truth?!"
Ferry closed his eyes. How did he know?! The look he had just given Lingert clearly told him to go get some clean water with the vet!
Oh my God, these chickens have been dead for a while, and their internal organs are all covered with blood clots. No one can see the details without flushing them with water!
Who knew that boy was so confident that he would directly tell the result of his deduction!
Is he really still too young... It seems that letting Lingert see patients independently will have to be postponed for a while.
But Old Ferry didn't say these words directly. He just said vaguely, "Lundin, can you prepare some clean water for us? We need further confirmation just in case."
The fat chef nodded frantically, "Okay, okay, I'll get it right away!"
If there really was something wrong with these chickens a long time ago, and if word got out, his pub...
The chubby guy almost fled to get some clean water. It looked like his sweat was about to cover his forehead.
But the more Ferry examined, the more frightened he became.
Because after looking at several chickens in a row, he found that Lingert's seemingly casual diagnosis... was actually exactly the same as the facts!
These dead chickens really have gout and complex fatty liver!
How is this possible?
Old Ferry couldn't help but stare at the young man's face. There was so much blood that it almost filled the cavity. Even he, a veterinarian with more than 20 years of experience, couldn't see clearly. Lingert had just graduated...
This child's intuition is too terrifying, right?
No. Can this really still be considered intuition?
At this moment, he couldn't help but recall that during the time Lingert had been at the clinic, his diagnosis had never been wrong, not even vague. As long as the young man opened his mouth, it would definitely be the most direct cause of the disease.
Now old Ferry also felt the cold wind of summer that inexplicably rushed up his back.
He remained completely impassive. After wiping his hands, he calmly said to the fat chef, "Lundin, take these chickens to Stuart. He'll have to take responsibility for you. But you'd better go to the market again. If a customer finds something wrong with the chickens, I'm not sure you can handle it alone."
This wasn't his customer, nor was it as serious as a tapeworm infestation, so he couldn't intervene rashly.
"But what should I do now?" The fat chef took off his hat and rubbed his face. "I have to go to the Earl's house tonight... The Earl specifically asked for herb-fried chicken! Oh, damn it!"
He kicked the wooden pillar of the chicken coop hard, his face growing paler and paler. "If there's something wrong with the Stewart chickens, then there won't be many healthy chickens in the entire market! What should I do? What should I do!"
"Maybe you could change the main course?" asked Lin Weilun.
"No, no!" Lundin paced back and forth anxiously. "The Earl wasn't satisfied with my previous cooking. If this time's not good enough... he'll replace me! He'll look for another English chef! Then I'm doomed!"
So that's how it is. Lin Weilun withdrew his hand. The chef had to bring freshly slaughtered chickens to the manor. After all, the longer the chicken has been dead, the more it affects the taste.
Because the chef was worried that the picky earl would have problems eating the chicken, he killed them one by one in an effort to find a normal chicken.
But there was a problem with each one, and the fat chef was scared, so he urgently contacted the nearest veterinarian in Ferry.
But the result was really disappointing.
Lin Weilun understood Lundin's anxiety. For the town of Denham, Earl Philip was a weather vane, a local restaurant selection list, and a guide to the public's choices.
If he were fired and replaced, I'm afraid everyone in the town would think he was not up to par.
By then, not only would the business be affected, but the tavern might not even be able to keep him.
Everyone will flock to the newcomers.
But what does this have to do with him?
Lin Weilun picked up the suitcase and wanted to tell Mr. Ferry to leave.
But he suddenly saw Lundin's round head suddenly turn towards him, with great surprise in his eyes.
"You just found out the problem with the chicken! You can do it!" The fat chef rushed over and grabbed Lin Weilun's arms as if he had thought of something. "Can you...can you please help me pick out a healthy chicken? I'll pay you! 1 shilling...Oh no no no! How about 5 shillings! If you don't help me, I'm finished!"
Old Ferry was a kind man, and Lundin knew him very well, so anyone who was approved by him to join the clinic must be right!
Besides, this guy is just a young man. Guys of this age are the easiest to fool. Just play them pitifully and they will volunteer to go to the battlefield.
The chef didn't dare to order the gray-haired old man around, and only dared to target Villenlingert.
However, he found that the young man in front of him suddenly smiled, not that kind of kind smile, but... but... it was as if he would smile when he saw a rabbit running into his arms.
"I'm so sorry, sir," Lin Weilun curled his lips and shook his head slowly, "I have something else to do tonight, so I'm afraid I can't help you with this."
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