Chapter 204

To enter someone's mind, you must step into the environment of their experience and understand the information they receive.

Karlman spent the first half of his academic life in Hegang, so his understanding of the local area naturally differed from outsiders'; to find what was implied, he needed to bridge that information gap.

At least Kraft thought so—he had to get closer to the elements mentioned in the records to see more clearly.

"Practice is the sole standard for testing theory. Especially in medicine: one or even several seemingly perfect cases are far from enough—you need repeated, long-term verification." Kraft put on a mask and distributed one to everyone present.

"Even something as simple as a few glass bottles and a brief reaction can yield different results—how much more so the human body, a complex system?"

"Let's talk about tuberculosis instead," Viren took the mask and held it in his hand, deliberately ignoring the part about glass bottles. "Though the Academy has no direct cooperation with the outside world, it's undeniable that a significant number of successful clinic owners were once among us."

"This man is half my student—he attended my lectures, graduated, and opened an internal medicine clinic in the New District. When he heard we were interested in tuberculosis, he reached out to us voluntarily."

"You two really have a good teacher-student relationship," Kraft sincerely remarked. Back in school, professors who taught specialized courses—even those who were friendly during class—usually grew distant after graduation, lacking any reason for daily contact.

It was exceedingly rare for someone to maintain contact with a lecture professor after entering the profession.

"That's true—he was always focused on internal medicine back then, failed the anatomy exam every year, and we all knew him. The year before his delayed graduation, it was my turn to evaluate him, and I just barely passed him."

It was an act of mercy—a life saved.

As the carriage jolted, Kup held the box in one arm and pulled the mask's straps behind his ears to secure it.

After a stretch of road brutally unfriendly to vehicles without shock absorbers, the driver's whistle halted the crisp clatter of horseshoes on cobblestones. Viren stepped out first and introduced the doctor waiting at the door to Kraft.

"This is Dr. Dai Wei—we also call him Dai Wei V." The lecturer walked up without hesitation, clapping the doctor on the shoulder, whose face darkened at the nickname. "Dai Wei, let me introduce you to the next decade's new authority in the field: Professor Kraft, member of the Tuberculosis and Rare Disease Medical Society."

"Hello, it's an honor," the doctor with the famous nickname trembled slightly, extending his hand halfway before freezing, uncertain whether it was appropriate—a reflexive recoil like a student seeing his homeroom teacher after half a year away.

Kraft gripped his hand and shook it vigorously; the enthusiastic force made Dai Wei wonder if he'd need to relearn orthopedics right there.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Dai Wei V. My knowledge of current tuberculosis treatment is also limited—we should learn from each other."

"You're too modest. And if you don't mind, please just call me by my name," Dai Wei withdrew his hand, smoothing his hair forward. "This nickname isn't from any noble family tradition—it's just from how long I've been around Professor Viren."

"That must've been tough."

"Who says it isn't? I owe my survival without becoming Dai Wei VI entirely to Professor Viren's efforts," Dai Wei chuckled bitterly. Among his classmates, many were talented, but he was likely the only one who left a lasting impression on so many instructors.

He pulled up the wrinkled front of his robe, covering half his face including his nose and mouth. "Please come in—talking outside isn't convenient."

Behind the door painted with a long-beaked bird's head, a familiar yet subtly altered bitterness flooded their noses—coming from a clay pot simmering over the fire. The medicinal decoction had concentrated to the scent of Jiaohu, and the masked apprentice, stifling sneezes, added granular substances to the pot.

Patients with milder symptoms who could still walk sat on wooden benches, waiting for assistants to bottle and mix their medicine, their faces yellowish or marked with bright red rashes. From behind the partially screened curtain came violent coughing accompanied by gagging.

"We separate coughing patients from others. There's no solid evidence yet, but anecdotes suggest this may slow transmission to those around them."

The group passed through the busy counter and stove area; patients and apprentice assistants bowed and greeted the clinic owner as if he were a king inspecting his domain. Yet the several behind him made him slightly uneasy.

Several translucent, tinted glass bottles stood out on prominent shelves, their prices seemingly unusual.

When Kraft glanced curiously at them, "Dai Wei V" awkwardly sidestepped to block the price tag and chuckled nervously. "Just some specialty remedies I've formulated from experience."

"Please come upstairs—this area is too noisy."

They were led to Dai Wei's private room on the second floor, where the thick wooden door muffled the noise below. On the wall hung a framed paper document; a walking stick replaced the decorative sword on its stand.

Inside the bookshelf, two dusty volumes of "Human Anatomy" occupied one side, alongside "Humoral Theory" and a row of pharmacopoeias with unknown origins and no spines.

Viren glanced at the document and recognized it immediately. "I shouldn't have signed that diploma back then."

"Don't say that, Teacher—it was so long ago," Dai Wei leaned back, straightened his posture after realizing his slouch, and pulled in his belly. "Let's talk about tuberculosis instead. Why are you suddenly interested? There are plenty of patients and treatments, but few actually work—and it's far removed from surgery."

"That won't be true much longer. A surgical treatment for tuberculosis has already been developed: inflating the chest cavity to compress the lungs, controlling hemoptysis and halting lesion progression. If you still maintain the level needed to pass exams, you should understand." Viren explained the current academic advances to him.

"I think I understand."

"In any case, to facilitate further verification of this treatment, I need more cases and a comparison with traditional methods." This was part of the goal itself—even if they gained nothing, it wouldn't be wasted time.

"As someone who interacts closely with patients, I assume Dr. Dai Wei has a good grasp of local disease patterns. I'd like to hear what you know about tuberculosis."

"I'm sorry, though I'd love to help, my knowledge is limited—I fear I'd only make myself a laughingstock."

"No, I don't want textbook words," Kraft interlaced his fingers, assuming a posture of patient listening. Seeing the sheer volume and variety of patients downstairs, he was certain this was exactly the place he'd been seeking.

"I want to hear what you know about the people—the patients themselves: their homes, jobs, economic status, usual treatments, relationships. Say whatever comes to mind—start anywhere. Or perhaps begin with your clinic's daily operations?"