Chapter 50 Ji Yun's Plea for Help
At 8:20 p.m. on Saturday, the Ji family mansion was in complete chaos.
Ji Yun knelt on the living room carpet, holding his mother's hand, his voice trembling: "Mom? Mom, look at me, can you hear me?"
Mother Ji's face was deathly pale, her lips were cyanotic, her left hand was pressed weakly against her chest, and her breathing was short and labored. Cold sweat soaked her forehead hair, and she looked as if she had been pulled out of the water.
"Where's the doctor? We still haven't been able to contact Dr. Wang?" Ji Yun yelled at the housekeeper, his voice filled with barely suppressed panic.
The housekeeper's hand trembled as she held the phone: "Dr. Wang went to the mountains for a medical outreach program, and there's no signal... 120 said the nearest ambulance would take at least 25 minutes to arrive, and it's rush hour now..."
Twenty-five minutes. Ji Yun watched his mother's increasingly weak breathing, his heart feeling as if it were being clenched by an icy hand. His mother had a history of coronary heart disease, but it had been well-controlled in recent years. They always kept nitroglycerin on hand, and she had just taken it sublingually, but there was no significant relief.
This is not ordinary angina.
"Call Zhou Mubai and ask him if he knows any cardiology experts at private hospitals. Send an ambulance directly!" Ji Yun tried to calm herself down, but her voice was still trembling.
The servants paced frantically in the living room, but no one knew what to do. Ji Yun's father was away on a business trip abroad, and his younger brother was studying abroad. At this moment, the only person in the mansion was him, the son who had dropped out of medical school to go into business—a half-baked doctor who had studied clinical medicine for two years but couldn't even remember the complete emergency procedures.
The phone rang; it was Zhou Mubai.
“I contacted Anhe Hospital, and their ambulance has already left, but it will take at least twenty minutes. Now listen, have your aunt lie flat, keep her airway open, and monitor her breathing and pulse…”
Ji Yun mechanically followed the instructions, but his mother's pulse was weak and erratic under his fingertips. He had studied medicine and knew this was an ominous sign.
"Do you have any oxygen cylinders?" Zhou Mubai asked on the phone.
"We have...we have home medical oxygen, but..."
"Connect! Adjust the flow rate to 5 liters per minute!"
The housekeeper stumbled to fetch the oxygen equipment. Ji Yun held his mother's hand; it was growing cold. A terrible thought flashed through his mind: he might have to watch helplessly as his mother...
Then he suddenly remembered someone.
Song Zhiyi.
Huo Yanli's taciturn wife, the woman who relieved Huo Yanli's stomach pain with three acupuncture needles at the club, and the translator whom Zhou Mubai described as "unfathomable".
Without any hesitation, and without even having time to consider whether the decision was reasonable, he directly dialed Huo Yanli's number.
"Yanli! Song Zhiyi... your wife is on the phone! Quickly!"
---
In the Ministry of Foreign Affairs dormitory, Song Zhiyi had just finished showering and was drying her hair.
When her phone rang, she glanced at the caller ID—an unknown number.
The call connected, and Ji Yun's almost hysterical voice came through: "Miss Song! This is Ji Yun! My mother has suffered a heart attack, and the ambulance is in twenty minutes. Could you... could you come? Please!"
In the background, there are chaotic footsteps and suppressed sobs.
Song Zhiyi turned off the hair dryer: "Address."
"The Ji family's old residence, in the Xicheng District..."
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she interrupted him. “Now listen to me: have the patient keep in a semi-recumbent position with their back elevated, absolutely not flat. Loosen all tight clothing. Do you have any nitroglycerin or other nitroglycerin tablets at home?”
"I took nitroglycerin, but it didn't work..."
"Understood. Keep the phone accessible."
The call ended. Song Zhiyi tossed aside the towel, not even bothering to dry her wet hair, and changed her clothes in three minutes—a simple black tracksuit for easy movement. She took a dark blue cloth bag from the drawer; it was her mother's acupuncture kit, made of sheepskin, its edges worn smooth and shiny.
As she rushed out of the dormitory building, the security guard on duty looked at her in surprise: "Translator Song, so late..."
"It's urgent." She had already run towards the door.
As the evening rush hour drew to a close, hailing a taxi was proving difficult. Song Zhiyi stood by the roadside, checking her watch for the third time, when a black sedan screeched to a halt in front of her.
The car window rolled down, revealing Huo Yanli.
"Get in the car."
She didn't ask why he was there, opened the car door and got in: "Go to the Ji family's old house, the fastest route."
Huo Yanli stepped on the gas. In the rearview mirror, her hair was still dripping wet, her profile was tense, and the old acupuncture kit was on her knee.
"Ji Yun said his mother's condition didn't improve after taking nitroglycerin; it might be a heart attack or severe arrhythmia." Her voice was calm, as if she were analyzing a case. "Did you notify them to prepare oxygen equipment?"
"I told you." Huo Yanli's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. "How could you..."
“My mother is a cardiologist,” she replied briefly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Turn right at the next intersection; there are fewer cars on that side road at night.”
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