Chapter 15

The patient's companion soon led him away, disappearing at the classroom door.

Kraft understood them perfectly—this understanding didn't require him to lie on the stone bed and experience being watched by a crowd of black-robed figures; any normal human would feel genuine fear when standing at the center of an anatomy classroom, especially when they weren't an observer or an operator.

To Kraft, this scene felt familiar.

It was like every Monday morning's first lecture at university, where the professor, clutching his computer bag, arrived a few minutes late after an all-night shift, ready to apologize to the students—only to find barely anyone in the room.

Every time he turned to look at the PPT and turned back, he'd notice a few more people had appeared; this repeated for ten minutes or so, until, finishing a section, he suddenly remembered to take attendance—and realized half the classroom was now filled?

Kraft was facing this same eerie phenomenon, except that before, he'd been in the audience; now, he was on stage.

He had just finished examining the patient and performing a manual reduction—less than fifteen minutes ago—and already, two-thirds of a classroom with at least forty seats were occupied by black-robed figures who had appeared out of nowhere; at the door, latecomers poked half their heads in, checking if they could still slip inside.

This level of dedication made Kraft feel ashamed. After all, he was the kind of super-lazy dog who had never arrived on time for a Monday morning lecture; only his dorm-mates who never showed up for any early class could match him. Now, facing this crowd of passionate learners, their energy left him speechless.

"Your exquisite family technique is truly astonishing," said a black-robed man in the back row, quickly standing and descending the steps to break the awkward silence. Lu Xiusi immediately followed, stepping half a pace behind with an embarrassed, sheepish smile.

"This is Professor Karlman of our academy," Lu Xiusi introduced. "He heard a noble patron was willing to share his family's treasured knowledge, and came specially to express his gratitude." His face flushed red, unmistakable against his pale skin.

Lu Xiusi's idea had been: Kraft seemed like a decent fellow, willing to let them observe his family's technique, but hadn't specified how many—so I invited Professor Karlman, someone I'm close with; one more person shouldn't matter.

While Kraft was still carefully examining, he slipped out quietly and knocked on the professor's door.

Then the problem arose: he thought this way, the other two thought this way, and everyone called upon thought the same way.

The classic scenario unfolded: "I only told you this" was copied everywhere in minutes. By the time Lu Xiusi found Professor Karlman in a secluded room and rushed back, it wasn't just three people—there were no seats left in the first three rows; students who arrived early were already holding the patient's hands and feet for Kraft.

"Thank you so much for generously sharing your knowledge—such people are rare, and therefore noble," Professor Karlman, seeing the crowd, immediately knew something was off. Without a word, he took a small step forward, positioning himself between Lu Xiusi and Kraft.

This wasn't a huge matter, but it wasn't trivial either—the man was a noble, and though he'd agreed, what did Lu Xiusi think he was doing by gathering this crowd to watch someone else's family technique?

Professor Karlman's thinking was: nobles usually respond to honor and noble reputation, especially young ones. First, see if this can be smoothed over; if conflict arises, Lu Xiusi won't fare well. Later, consider offering something tangible—can't let the family come knocking; that would be a real mess.

"You flatter me—it's merely minor techniques; if they help, that's all I could wish for," Kraft said, now also tense, though his thoughts were entirely different.

He had borrowed a classroom without the institution's permission, and now, looking up, found himself being treated as if it were a real lecture—with a professor sitting in the back. Just imagining it made him break into a cold sweat in broad daylight.

Yet this professor's attitude was unexpectedly kind? Kraft remembered how, when he first began treating patients, his teachers bombarded him with relentless, deadly questions—each one aimed straight at his knowledge blind spots. When had he ever received such high-level treatment? This scene wasn't overwhelming—it was utterly shocking.

Good, very good, Professor Karlman thought. This was the classic type: inexperienced, full of honor, utterly disdainful of material gain—a young man of virtue, practically identical to the one behind him—Lu Xiusi, his long-lost brother from another mother.

While Kraft was still nervous, Professor Karlman had already figured out what to do.

The professor frowned slightly, took Kraft's hand, and said: "Though this may seem presumptuous, I humbly ask your forgiveness for the request of a man with limited ability."

"?"

"In a place devoted to acquiring more knowledge to save the lives bestowed by the Heavenly Father, I, unfortunate in my capacity, lack the ability to train successors capable of bearing such a weighty responsibility, and thus often long for those endowed with both virtue and talent to share this burden..."

"??"

"To ask such a person, destined for higher missions, to waste precious time here fills me with shame..."

"??? "

"Yet to spare more bodies from suffering, allowing them to pass their brief lives in peace and return to the Lord's embrace, I must still, with deep regret, make this request..."

Kraft, having learned from Anderson, had not yet reached this stage. These long, complex sentences—requiring a deep breath before speaking and maximum lung capacity to finish—were beyond his literary grasp. After this half-minute barrage, he was completely lost, unlikely to untangle it anytime soon.

"Therefore, I invite you, such a person, to become a lecturer at Wendeng Harbor Academy's Medical College," Professor Karlman concluded.

"Ah, this..."

"Please do not refuse—even if you cannot come often. But if, after exchanging and studying here, you wish to take our examination, we are prepared to grant you a Bachelor of Medicine degree."

Before Kraft could react, the matter was effectively settled. In Karlman's view, a lecturer position was something he could decide on his own—a prestigious honor for nobles, a sign of refinement, yet for him, such slots were adjustable.

And the Bachelor's degree? In this era, it wasn't like the other world's annual seven-figure degrees. With few higher institutions here, alarmingly low literacy, and the long-term withdrawal from work required, only wealthy merchant families or nobles with such spiritual aspirations even considered this luxury.

Add in the high cost of books, immense time and effort, and the need to pass examinations by professional teachers—or even nobles or church members—and the degree became more valuable than a Vestminster gold coin. It was essentially letting Kraft board the lecturer's train first, then later earn the ticket to the degree through further study and examination.

"I am deeply honored, deeply honored," Kraft said, overwhelmed. He had barely met them, yet now sat in the professor's room drinking tea, facing Professor Karlman beaming with smiles, and Lu Xiusi, equally bewildered, holding a half-eaten biscuit, caught in a daze—half-understanding, half-confused.

"These are my personal treasures from youth," Professor Karlman said, pushing forward several neatly bound manuscripts. Their wooden covers had been carefully smoothed, rounded and comfortable to hold.

According to Kraft's memory, movable type printing hadn't appeared yet; block-printed pages hadn't reached the refined detail of hand-copied manuscripts. These books were things his meager purse couldn't even dream of. But he thought he understood: the professor meant these books were precious, and he should share his own insights with the students.

"Of course—it is my honor," Kraft said solemnly, accepting the books, which were small compared to his surgical knowledge, like receiving five years' worth of allowance from his grandfather.

Lu Xiusi, taking another bite of biscuit, stared at the books—they looked familiar. He swallowed, drank a sip of honeyed barley tea to clear his throat, and opened his mouth to ask: "Professor, weren't these the same books you gave me last time?"

The professor shot him a look that said, "I haven't settled accounts with you yet," and Lu Xiusi swallowed his words.

Unnoticed, the light outside dimmed. Beneath warm candlelight, the barley tea and biscuits filled the air with fragrance, the atmosphere pleasant and serene. Kraft and the professor discussed the anatomical principles of shoulder dislocation; Lu Xiusi nodded vigorously beside them. The academic atmosphere was so thick it could inspire a medieval version of Raphael's "School of Athens," painted on the walls of the medical college hall.

If such a painting were ever made, Kraft would give it a name worthy of lasting fame, appreciated by both the refined and the common.

——《Lain's Cousin at the Door》

Kraft's smile froze on his face. After being so thoroughly swept up by Karlman, he only now realized he had forgotten something important—his beloved cousin had arranged to meet him at the academy gate at dusk.

He looked outside—the sky was dark, nothing like dusk anymore.