Tao Wenwen held his chin and squatted in the corner of the yard watching the ants move.
The ants are black, big and numerous. If we catch them all, we should be able to exchange them for a lot of food from Master Zhang.
Uncle Zhang from the next village suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. A barefoot doctor prescribed him a medicine containing ants. Many children would catch a lot of ants and take them to Uncle Zhang to exchange for food when they were free.
Tao Wenwen was thinking in his mind as he caught the ants one by one and put them into the jar.
The line of ants was so dense and long that it stretched all the way into the grass. She hesitated for a few seconds, but then she pushed them aside gently and reached in carefully.
A strong wind suddenly blew up from the quiet grass, and a bloody hand reached out and grabbed Tao Wenwen's wrist.
Tao Wenwen was startled, but did not break free and escape immediately.
"He's really not dead." She muttered, "You scared me."
Bloody Hand heard her mumbling and gripped her wrist even tighter. A hoarse voice came from the dense grass, "Help, save me..."
"It's not that I didn't want to save you, it's that I couldn't." Tao Wenwen recounted the facts. "Your injuries are too severe. Stitching the wound is useless. It's also poisonous."
She expressionlessly pried open the bloody fingers on her wrist one by one, then stood up.
Bloody hands grabbed her ankles, and a hoarse voice came from the dense grass again, "Help, save me."
"Why are you still sticking with it?" Tao Wenwen stared at the bloody hand on her ankle, her beautiful eyebrows furrowed.
She said in embarrassment, "There's only a 10% success rate, and the detoxification process is excruciatingly painful. Are you sure you want to fight for this 10% chance?"
"Fight!" the hoarse voice said without hesitation.
Tao Wenwen uttered an "oh," put the bottle of ants in his pocket, and said, "Then let go. I'll go get the tools."
The bloody hand did not loosen, but held on tighter.
"Hey, why are you so disobedient?" Tao Wenwen struggled, but his bloody hands stuck to her like leeches. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her.
She sighed, bent down, grabbed the bloody hand, and said, "I'll take you into the utility room."
The bloody hand still did not loosen.
"Doctors hate disobedient patients the most." Tao Wenwen complained, forcefully pried open his fingers, held one of his arms, and staggered him into the utility room.
It is called a storage room, but it was actually her "father's" studio when he was alive, a small medical room where all medical treatments were done in one place. Her "father" died of cancer a year ago, and this room has been vacant since his death. It contains everything.
Tao Wenwen put him on a bed less than one meter wide in the corner, and took out surgical tools from the cabinet.
"I just packed up the scalpels, and you're in luck."
As he spoke, Tao Wenwen had already opened his clothes and skillfully disinfected his wound.
The infirmary, which was well-equipped, still had limited conditions and extremely simple equipment compared to the medical equipment decades later.
"There's no anesthetic," Tao Wenwen said. "The process will be long, so you need to be mentally prepared."
The person on the bed seemed to be dead and there was no movement for a long time.
Tao Wenwen had no intention of waiting for his reply. After explaining the matter in a businesslike tone, she proceeded to strike with the knife.
The sharp knife cut off the rotten flesh, and the person on the bed finally groaned, and then stopped moving again.
Tao Wenwen looked up at him and found that although he was tall, he was only a teenager of eighteen or nineteen years old.
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