Chapter 52 The Shock in the Medical World
The corridor outside the CCU (Cardiac Care Unit) at Anhe Hospital, 2 a.m.
Ji Yun sat on the cold metal bench, his hands supporting his forehead. The incandescent light bulb emitted a faint hum, and the smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils. With each breath, he was reminded that his mother had just walked through the gates of hell.
The door to the catheterization lab opened, and out came Professor Chen, the director of the Department of Cardiology at Anhe Hospital—a top interventional cardiology expert in China. The Ji family had used all their connections to get him to perform the surgery late at night.
“Professor Chen, my mother…” Ji Yun suddenly stood up.
"The surgery was a success." Professor Chen took off his mask, revealing a tired but relaxed expression. "The proximal left anterior descending artery was completely occluded. We placed two stents, and blood flow has been restored very well. They were brought in very timely. If they had come any later, the area of myocardial necrosis would have been much larger."
Ji Yun's legs went weak, and he slumped back into his chair, covering his face. A wave of lingering fear washed over him, almost overwhelming him.
Professor Chen sat down beside him and patted him on the shoulder: "I know you switched careers midway through your medical studies, but you still have basic first aid knowledge. The emergency treatment you gave was crucial, especially the acupuncture..."
Ji Yun looked up, his eyes bloodshot: "Acupuncture?"
“Yes.” Professor Chen took the medical record folder from his assistant and flipped to the admission record. “The ambulance doctor wrote: When the patient arrived at the hospital, his vital signs were relatively stable and his chief complaint of chest pain had been significantly relieved. The family said that after the onset of the illness, he had received acupuncture treatment, and the acupoints Neiguan, Quemen, and Tanzhong were selected very accurately.”
He paused, his tone filled with the admiration of a professional: "Neiguan (PC6) is an acupoint on the pericardium meridian, mainly used to treat palpitations and chest pain; Quemen (PC7) is a Quemen acupoint on the pericardium meridian, specifically used to treat acute conditions; Tanzhong (CV17) is the Qi Hui (GV14) of the Eight Influential Points, which can relieve chest tightness and regulate Qi. Moreover, the timing of the acupuncture was extremely good, quickly stabilizing the heart rate when nitroglycerin was ineffective, thus securing a golden window for subsequent interventional treatment."
Ji Yun opened her mouth, her throat dry: "You mean... those injections really worked?"
"It played a crucial role," Professor Chen affirmed. "I reviewed the electrocardiogram record from the ambulance, and the patient's arrhythmia improved significantly before and after acupuncture. This is a very typical case of acupuncture treatment for acute myocardial infarction in clinical practice—of course, the premise is that the operator must be very professional, and there can be no mistakes in the selection of acupoints, techniques, and timing."
He closed the medical record and looked at Ji Yun: "Where did you learn this skill? These acupoints are not easy for ordinary people to locate accurately, especially the Quemen acupoint. If you are slightly off, the effect will be greatly reduced."
Ji Yun was silent for a few seconds, his voice a little dry: "I didn't do it."
"That is..."
“She’s a friend.” Ji Yun carefully chose her words. “She…isn’t a doctor, but she understands traditional Chinese medicine.”
Professor Chen was stunned: "Not a medical background?"
"She is a translator for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
A moment of silence fell over the corridor. The phone at the nurses' station rang not far away; the nurse on duty answered, speaking in a low voice. Further away, the regular beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor drifted through the crack in the ward door.
"Translation?" Professor Chen's expression shifted from surprise to disbelief. "You mean, a staff member of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs treated an acute myocardial infarction with traditional Chinese medicine acupuncture?"
“Her mother is a doctor, a peacekeeping doctor,” Ji Yun added, though he himself was unsure if this information was complete.
Professor Chen took off his glasses and rubbed his temples: "I have been practicing medicine for more than 30 years and have seen all kinds of folk first aid, but such professional and precise selection of acupoints... this cannot be explained by 'knowing a little about traditional Chinese medicine'. She must have received systematic training and have rich practical experience."
He put his glasses back on, his gaze turning serious: "Ji Yun, if possible, I'd like to meet this... translator. Not out of curiosity, but from a medical perspective, I want to understand how she made such a professional judgment in that emergency situation. It would also be enlightening for our emergency medicine."
Ji Yun nodded, but knew in her heart that Song Zhiyi would most likely not accept such a meeting. Her quiet departure after performing first aid said it all—she saved people not to be thanked, much less to be studied.
Professor Chen gave a few more instructions on post-operative precautions before leaving with his team. The corridor fell silent again. Ji Yun leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
The scenes from tonight kept replaying in my mind: my mother's pained face, the housekeeper's panicked voice, the despair I felt when I dialed the phone, and then Song Zhiyi's figure rushing in—wet hair, black clothes, and that old acupuncture kit.
She knelt on the carpet, her fingers steadily selecting acupoints, inserting the needles without the slightest hesitation. Her focus and composure were like that of someone on a battlefield.
No, that was a battlefield. A battlefield of life and death.
Ji Yun suddenly remembered a long time ago, before Huo Yanli got married, when they were drinking at a bar. Shen Yu joked, "I heard that Grandpa Huo found Yanli a 'good-natured' wife, probably the kind who is obedient, sensible, and suitable for staying at home."
What did he reply at the time? It seems to be something like, "That's good, Yanli needs someone who won't cause trouble."
Later, when they met Song Zhiyi at a family dinner, she was quiet and reserved, dressed simply, and sat in a corner, hardly participating in the conversation. They all felt that she was indeed someone who "didn't cause trouble," and perhaps even had a bit of a cautious desire to climb the social ladder.
But now...
"Ji Yun." Huo Yanli's voice came from the end of the corridor.
Ji Yun opened his eyes and saw Huo Yanli walking over with two paper bags, handing him one: "Coffee, double sugar. You need this."
"Thank you." Ji Yun took it, the scalding heat transferring through the paper cup to her palm. "My mother is stable now. Professor Chen said the surgery was a success."
"That's good." Huo Yanli sat down next to him, holding another cup of coffee in his hand, but didn't drink it.
The two remained silent for a while, as the deep blue light of dawn shone through the window at the end of the corridor.
"Yanli," Ji Yun stared at the coffee cup in his hand, "Do you know her?"
Huo Yanli did not ask who "she" was.
"I don't know," he answered honestly, "or rather, I'm just beginning to know."
"Did you know she could do these things? I mean... these life-saving skills?"
Huo Yanli was silent for a moment: "I know as much as you do, or perhaps... I don't even know as much as you do."
Ji Yun smiled wryly: "Did we... misjudge people before?"
Huo Yanli didn't answer, but simply took a sip of coffee. The bitter taste spread in his mouth.
"Professor Chen said that her needlework was very professional, so professional that it didn't seem like the level of an amateur," Ji Yun continued. "He also wanted to see her and ask her for advice from a medical perspective."
“She won’t go,” Huo Yanli said.
“I know.” Ji Yun leaned back in his chair, looking at the neatly arranged light tubes on the ceiling. “She’s the kind of person who…does something earth-shattering, and then leaves as if nothing ever happened.”
Just like more than two years ago when she got her marriage certificate, she turned around and went to the airport.
Just like tonight, after saving his mother, she turned around and disappeared into the night.
Huo Yanli's phone vibrated. He took it out and saw a message from Zhou Mubai: "How is Ji Yun's mother? Just let me know if you need any help."
Huo Yanli replied briefly: "The surgery was successful, and the condition is stable."
The reply came almost instantly: "Was it Song Zhiyi who saved you?"
"Um."
There was a half-minute silence on the other end, then a message came through: "Shen Yu just called me and said he asked around. Song Zhiyi did more than just translation work in war-torn areas; she assisted field hospitals, treated numerous external injuries, and even performed simple surgeries in some extreme situations. Her acupuncture skills were honed on the real battlefield."
Huo Yanli stared at the screen, his fingers tightening.
Ji Yun turned her head to look at him: "What's wrong?"
Huo Yanli handed over the phone. Ji Yun read the message and remained silent for a long time.
In the corridor, the morning light began to replace the lamplight. The footsteps of the early shift nurses changing shifts could be heard in the distance; a new day had begun.
"Yanli," Ji Yun finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse, "our previous speculations about her... were quite laughable, weren't they?"
Huo Yanli did not answer.
But the answer is already self-evident.
How could someone who can save lives in the midst of war, who can snatch time from the clutches of death with acupuncture, who possesses life-saving knowledge yet never flaunts it, possibly be a shallow woman who covets the title of Mrs. Huo and tries to climb the social ladder?
They judged her by the narrow values of their own circle, unaware that she harbored a much broader world within her.
“When she has time,” Ji Yun stood up, her coffee cup already cold, “I want to thank her formally. Not in a perfunctory way.”
Huo Yanli also stood up: "She won't care about these things."
“I know,” Ji Yun said, looking at the sky gradually brightening outside the window, “but I care.”
At the end of the corridor, Professor Chen and several young doctors walked and discussed cases. Ji Yun overheard fragments of their conversation:
"...So traditional Chinese medicine does have unique value in certain acute illnesses, the key is the skill level of the practitioner."
"Professor Chen, is that case you mentioned real? A translator performing acupuncture?"
"The medical records are very clear. Once the patient is stable, I'd like to invite that translator to the department for a discussion—provided, of course, that she's willing."
The sound gradually faded into the distance.
Ji Yun and Huo Yanli exchanged a glance.
"The medical community is about to be shaken," Ji Yun said softly.
Huo Yanli looked out the window; the sky was already turning a pale white. He remembered the scar on Song Zhiyi's wrist, her focused profile as she inserted the needle, and her calm departure after saving someone.
The shockwaves are not limited to the medical field.
And then there are those self-righteous people who live in their exquisite cages.
In the distance, the city began to awaken. Meanwhile, in a Ministry of Foreign Affairs dormitory, the woman who had caused all this commotion might have just fallen asleep, or perhaps already been up preparing for a new day's work.
She would never know that she had unintentionally changed the way many people see the world.
Like a pebble thrown into deep water.
Ripples are spreading outwards in concentric circles.
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