Chapter 65 Unexpected Situations
At 9 p.m., the dinner entered a free-flowing conversation session.
Guests gathered in small groups to chat, while waiters moved among them carrying drinks and snacks. All the lights in the courtyard were turned on, illuminating the old house like a fairyland.
Just as Song Zhiyi had escorted Old Master Huo back to his room to rest and was about to return to the banquet hall, she heard a commotion coming from the east rest area.
"Grandpa! Grandpa, what's wrong?"
"Call a doctor immediately!"
"Is there anyone who knows first aid?"
She quickened her pace and walked over immediately. A small circle of people had already gathered in the rest area. On the carpet in the middle, an elderly man with gray hair lay there, his face bluish-purple, his hand clutching his chest, already unconscious.
"Make way! Keep the air circulating!" Song Zhiyi pushed through the crowd and squatted down next to the old man.
She quickly checked: no breathing, no carotid pulse—cardiac arrest.
"Did you call 120?" she asked without looking up.
"We've called! They said they'd be there in fifteen minutes!" someone replied.
Fifteen minutes. That's too long. The golden window for resuscitation after cardiac arrest is only four minutes.
Without hesitation, Song Zhiyi immediately began CPR. She laid the elderly man flat on the ground, loosened his collar, located the lower part of his sternum, and began rhythmic compressions with her hands overlapping.
"One, two, three, four..." she counted softly, pressing at least five centimeters deep, at a frequency of over one hundred times per minute. Her movements were as precise as an instructional video.
Everyone around was stunned. The eldest daughter-in-law of the Huo family, who had just been elegantly coordinating the entire banquet, was now kneeling on the ground, desperately trying to save an elderly person who had suddenly fallen ill. Her Chinese-style suit was covered in carpet dust, her white jade hairpin was slightly loose, and a strand of hair had slipped down her cheek, but she was completely unaware.
"Do you need artificial respiration?" Ji Yun squeezed in; he was also attending the banquet today.
“You do it, I’ll continue pressing,” Song Zhiyi said calmly. “30:2 ratio.”
Ji Yun immediately knelt down and performed two artificial respirations after every thirty chest compressions by Song Zhiyi. The two worked together seamlessly, as if they had rehearsed it countless times.
Time ticked by. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Song Zhiyi's forehead, and her arms trembled slightly from the continuous pressure, but the frequency and depth of her presses remained unchanged.
Three minutes later, the old man's body suddenly twitched.
"It's reacting!" someone exclaimed.
Song Zhiyi didn't stop and continued pressing. Two more minutes passed, and the old man slowly opened his eyes, making a faint sound from his throat.
"He's regained spontaneous breathing." Ji Yun checked his carotid artery. "His pulse is weak, but there is one!"
Song Zhiyi stopped pressing, but kept her hand on the old man's chest to feel his heartbeat. Her arm was so sore and numb that she could barely lift it, but her expression remained calm.
"Grandpa, can you hear me?" she asked softly.
The old man nodded weakly, his eyes unfocused.
"Don't speak, keep breathing calmly. The ambulance will be here soon." Song Zhiyi held his hand, her voice gentle yet firm. "You'll be alright."
Silence fell over the surroundings. Everyone stared at Song Zhiyi, who was kneeling on the ground—she was holding the old man's hand, gently comforting him, as if she hadn't been the one who had just raced against death.
Huo Yanli pushed through the crowd and walked in. When he saw this scene, his heart tightened.
He saw Song Zhiyi kneeling there, her hair disheveled, her clothes dusty, her arms trembling slightly from exertion. But she held the old man's hand, her eyes focused and gentle.
That was a Song Zhiyi he had never seen before—not a calm diplomat, not a distant wife, but a doctor who was doing everything she could to save lives at the critical moment of life and death.
The sound of the ambulance siren grew louder as it approached.
When the paramedics rushed in, the elderly man had regained consciousness and had a stable heartbeat.
"Who performed the first aid?" the lead paramedic asked in surprise after examining the elderly man. "The treatment was extremely professional! A few minutes later and it would have been dangerous."
“It’s her.” Ji Yun pointed to Song Zhiyi.
The doctor looked at Song Zhiyi, and seeing her in a traditional Chinese suit and disheveled hair, he could hardly believe it: "You are..."
“Translation Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Song Zhiyi.” Song Zhiyi stood up, staggered slightly due to numbness in her legs, and Huo Yanli immediately stepped forward to support her.
She nodded to him in thanks, then turned to the doctor: "Does the patient have a history of coronary heart disease? When I pressed on his chest just now, I felt something unusual about his chest; he may have had a rib fracture."
Upon further examination, the doctor indeed found an old wound on the old man's chest: "Your diagnosis was correct! This is very important, thank you for reminding me!"
Paramedics lifted the elderly man onto a stretcher. His son, a middle-aged businessman, with tears in his eyes, grasped Song Zhiyi's hand: "Ms. Song, I can't thank you enough! If it weren't for you, my father might be..."
"Of course," Song Zhiyi said calmly. "Let's hurry to the hospital; follow-up treatment is more important."
After the ambulance left, the rest area remained quiet. Everyone looked at Song Zhiyi with complex emotions—shock, admiration, and deep thought.
Standing on the periphery of the crowd, Huo's mother, Xu Wenjun, watched Song Zhiyi's tired but still upright back and recalled how this woman had relieved her pain with three silver needles when she had a migraine attack.
It turns out that wasn't a coincidence. She truly is capable and responsible.
Song Zhiyi stretched her sore and numb arms, then looked at the Huo Group executives who were watching: "Everyone, you all saw what happened just now. The golden rescue time for cardiac arrest is only four minutes, while the average arrival time of an ambulance is more than ten minutes."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear and strong: "I suggest that the company regularly organize first aid training, especially CPR. This isn't an option; it's an essential skill. I can recommend professional training institutions and courses."
The executives looked at each other, then nodded in agreement.
"Miss Song is right! I'll make the arrangements as soon as I get back!"
"This kind of training is definitely necessary..."
"Miss Song, your technique just now was so professional. Did you receive special training?"
Just as Song Zhiyi was about to answer, several ladies surrounded her.
"Ms. Song, I've been having trouble sleeping lately. Do you have any suggestions?"
"Zhiyi, my husband has had high blood pressure for many years. What should we pay attention to in his diet?"
"Translator Song, could I have a copy of the calming tea recipe you gave Madam Ji last time?"
Their attitude was warm and natural, treating Song Zhiyi as a trustworthy expert. Just hours earlier, many of these people had been secretly questioning the qualifications of this "eldest daughter-in-law of the Huo family."
Song Zhiyi patiently responded to each question, her tone gentle yet professional: "There are many causes of insomnia, and we need to first diagnose it... A diet for high blood pressure should be low in salt and fat, but the specifics depend on your constitution... I can write down the recipe for calming tea for you, but it's best to consult a traditional Chinese medicine doctor first..."
Huo Yanli stood beside her the whole time she spoke. He watched her calmly answer everyone's questions, watched her remain focused despite her exhaustion, and watched her earn everyone's respect through her professionalism.
Huo's mother watched from afar, her expression complex.
She recalled how many years it took her to gain the Huo family's approval when she first married into the family. But Song Zhiyi only took a few months—no, just a few hours tonight.
It's not about flattery or scheming, but about solid ability and a sense of responsibility.
“Wenjun,” Aunt Lin Wanru walked to Huo’s mother’s side and said in a low voice, “Your daughter-in-law… is not simple.”
Huo's mother did not answer, but only looked at Song Zhiyi in the center of the crowd.
The woman she once thought was unworthy of the Huo family is now proving her worth in the simplest yet most powerful way.
It's not about Mrs. Huo's value.
It is Song Zhiyi's own value.
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