1772 Guilt, life is so fragile
Feng Qingchen woke up after only sleeping for half a day, washed his face with cold water, ate a few mouthfuls of food in a hurry, and rushed to the wounded soldiers' camp to bring Sixing back to rest.
"You are a really good master." The old doctor praised again.
"Yeah. Master is a good person." Sun Sixing responded blankly. His spirit wilted when he saw Feng Qingchen. His eyelids were fighting each other. After greeting him, he yawned and floated away.
Sun Sixing was really tired.
"This child needs exercise. You are so good to him." The old doctor expressed his jealousy. He could not bear it after just one day and one night. He had not slept for two days and one night, and no one seemed to care for him.
"He is still young, he can't ruin his body." As a doctor, how could he not know the harm that high-intensity work can cause to the body? Combining work and rest is the best way.
"Young? You are not much older than him." This man loves his disciple too much. He is really jealous of that little idiot. Why didn't he meet such a normal master back then?
"Well... I seem to be younger than Sixing." Feng Qingchen wiped the sweat off her face silently. She had never thought of herself as a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl, so she had never thought about whether staying up late like this would damage her body.
This time it was the old doctor who was speechless: "You are awesome. You watch over here. I am going to take a rest too."
It's such a shocking thing that a teenage girl can become a master. How can these old guys survive?
Others are like the Yangtze River where the waves behind push the waves in front, and the waves in front die on the beach. But what about him? He was beaten to death by the waves behind before he could even push the waves in front.
This is simply not allowing people to survive!
The old doctor clenched his fists in grief and anger, feeling guilty in his heart, wishing he had never met this evil master and disciple.
It’s so discouraging!
However, as soon as the old doctor went out, he saw the soldiers running up the mountain with heavy objects on their backs, and he instantly felt balanced. Even if he couldn't beat these two monsters, he was lucky and didn't have to serve as a soldier under the regent and suffer this kind of torture.
The old doctor was cured instantly and was in a good mood. He was thinking about writing a letter to his senior brother to show off in front of him and let him see what a genius among geniuses is, so that he wouldn't have to brag to him all the time about how capable his apprentice is.
There are indeed some good disciples among the disciples that the senior brother has accepted, but compared with this master and disciple pair, they are simply disgusting.
…
There is always a lot of work to do in the wounded camp, and doctors are not made of iron. Even if there are many wounded soldiers waiting for their treatment, they also need to rest.
In order to ensure that everyone can get enough rest and have enough energy to cope with the high-intensity rescue work, Feng Qingchen suggested that three people take turns, dividing the twelve hours of the day into three parts, with two people on duty per shift and the remaining person resting.
In this way, everyone can get news every day, and there are two doctors on duty in the wounded camp, which is enough to cope with it as long as there is no war.
"I can finally have a good rest." The old doctor was the first to agree. He was the only doctor who could be used in the army before. If he hadn't been running around all year round and paid attention to health preservation, he would have lay down with the wounded soldiers long ago.
"Those pharmacists and half-baked doctors, let them take turns. Those people's medical skills are not that good, but they are very hardworking." The old doctor has superb medical skills. He treats the wounded that others cannot cure, so he has the confidence to say this.
The affairs of the wounded camp became more and more orderly under the cleaning of Feng Qingchen and the other two. Those with less serious injuries also took care of the hygiene of the wounded camp under Feng Qingchen's organization, and many people even learned simple bandaging.
"It is better to teach a man how to fish than to give him a fish. Just a simple method of stopping bleeding may save their lives on the battlefield." Feng Qingchen and Sun Sixing often took time to explain to the wounded soldiers the emergency treatment methods of external injuries on the battlefield, and also let them exchange dressings with each other.
Although the wounded soldiers did not learn to read and write, they were not stupid. They knew that Feng Qingchen and Sun Sixing were doing this for their own good, so they studied very hard.
"Doctor Feng and Doctor Sun, this is saving our lives. If, if... I had met Doctor Feng earlier, Ergouzi would not have died. The doctor said that Ergouzi died from bleeding to death." The burly man in his thirties was covered in blood but he did not shed a single tear, but at this moment his eyes were red.
"Sanzhu's father also had his legs chopped off. The blood spurted out three feet high and sprayed all over my face. I was completely stunned, watching Sanzhu's father die in front of me."
…
The purpose was to teach these people simple first aid, but it turned into a symposium for them to recall their fallen comrades. When talking about their dead comrades, these big men could not stop crying.
Women are all made of water, but when men cry, they shed just as many tears as women, and they are even more pitiful than women.
A man sheds blood but does not shed tears, that's just because he's not heartbroken.
Sadness is contagious. When Feng Qingchen thought of the dead Lan Jiuqing, her nose felt sore and tears fell: such a person died just like that, she didn't even see him for the last time, and there wasn't even a complete corpse.
"Report." The soldier's sudden voice broke the sadness of the Injured Soldier Palace. Feng Qingchen quickly raised his hand and wiped the tears from his face: "Come in."
"Hello, Doctor Feng." The soldier stood in front of Feng Qingchen and saluted: "The Regent King is injured, please send a doctor to the tent immediately."
"Okay, I'll go right away." Feng Qingchen picked up the medicine box and followed the soldiers out.
I thought the Ninth Prince was using a self-torture trick again, but I didn't expect that the Ninth Prince was really injured this time. The Ninth Prince's entire left arm was purple, bloody and bloody, and you could see silver light flashing when the sun shone on it.
Poisoned?
Feng Qingchen's face changed, he quickened his pace, squatted beside the Ninth Prince, and checked the injury on his left arm.
"There is an assassin in the camp?" Feng Qingchen took a quick glance and saw the tents with obvious signs of fighting, as well as Yu Wen Yuanhua who looked guilty. He already understood about 70% of the situation.
He glared at Yuwen Yuanhua fiercely. Yuwen Yuanhua knew he was in the wrong, so he just accepted it weakly. He was about to tell Feng Qingchen what happened, but the Ninth Uncle said first: "Well, he was sent by Yecheng, and he is fine."
The corner of the Ninth Uncle's eye fell on Yuwen Yuanhua, and the meaning was self-evident...
Yes, I am redundant. Yuwen Yuanhua wisely left and evacuated the people around him, leaving only the ninth uncle's personal soldiers and secret guards.
The Ninth Prince's tent was messed up by the assassin, so he will definitely not be able to sleep tonight. There are no servants to tidy it up for him. So Feng Qingchen should take him in.
The more Yuwen Yuanhua thought about it, the more he felt that his arrangement was brilliant. It was tailor-made for the Ninth Prince, and the Ninth Prince should be grateful to him.
Of course, in this way, he could also repay the Ninth Prince for saving his life. If the Ninth Prince had not taken the blame for him, he would have died by now.
He didn't have the abnormal physique of the Ninth Prince. He could be poisoned by the blood-seeking poison and act as if nothing had happened...