"Song Sichen, hold on for a while, don't fall asleep yet!"
Song Sichen's eyelids felt heavy and he couldn't lift them up.
This village girl usually calls him "husband" in a pinched voice, and deliberately calls him "Brother Achen" to displease him.
Today is pretty normal, not disgusting.
Jiang Sui didn't know where she got the strength to walk so fast. After arriving at the clinic, she opened the door.
She pushed the cart onto the threshold and rushed in.
Fortunately, Song Sichen was already unconscious and very heavy, otherwise he would have been thrown to the ground and rolled several times.
Jiang Sui turned on the light in the clinic and laid Song Sixen flat on the ground.
She turned around and quickly grabbed everything she needed.
Cutting open Song Sixen's trouser legs that were soaked in blood, Jiang Sui took a deep breath when she saw his old wounds that had repeatedly become inflamed and festered.
"Why is it so serious?"
The man closed his eyes and did not react at all. Jiang Sui naturally had no anesthetic at hand, so she started to clean the dead flesh from his wound while he was unconscious.
Her technique was skillful and gentle, and she treated his wounds, both deep and shallow, meticulously, completely different from that of Wang Zheng, the Mongolian doctor.
Jiang Sui didn't know how much time had passed, and beads of sweat had already appeared on her forehead.
If Wang Zheng himself were here and saw so many bandages and disinfectant alcohol being used, he would probably scream and faint.
In fact, Song Sichen woke up when Jiang Sui cut open his trouser legs.
He remained patient, wanting to see what she was up to.
Unexpectedly, she cleaned and bandaged all the wounds on his body.
His techniques are as professional as those of military doctors in the army.
Song Sichen became alert and suspicious, as it was not uncommon for that group of people to disguise themselves and sneak into the village before.
Where does this village girl come from?
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