Chapter 48: 0047 A Drop of Kindness, a Spring of Gratitude

0047 A Drop of Kindness, a Spring of Gratitude

After the light flashed, Zheng Ren saw three books appear before him.

Three identical books.

System Grandpa is really lazy; the contents of the silver treasure box are all the same, no surprise.

Zheng Ren never considered his non-lucky physique; if he had a bit of Ou's luck, maybe he could get a bigger surprise.

The three books are skill‑level‑raising books, also counting as skill books; they can raise any skill tree to the advanced peak level.

If calculated by grade, each book is worth at most 1000 skill points.

Zheng Ren felt a bit regretful; if he were given 3000 skill points, plus the 930 skill points he saved from scraping by, his General Surgery Department level could rise to master level.

After thinking it over, Zheng Ren also kept all three skill books and didn't use them right away.

The key is that the System Grandpa's killing threat once gave Zheng Ren a huge psychological shadow, weighing three kilograms (well, not a typo).

He always has to keep a backup plan, right?

Just like the deep venous puncture technique just now, if Zheng Ren hadn't kept a few thousand experience points to exchange for surgery training time, he probably couldn't have saved so many people.

Zheng Ren isn't stupid; back in the orphanage, watching kind people from all over donate various books, and after school each day he still had to do odd jobs to support himself, yet he still got into the nation's top medical university.

As for being admitted to graduate school without exams, as long as the advisor isn't blind, they'll take him.

He gradually figured out the system's behavior pattern; each time it lured him, there seemed to be a corresponding patient needing his rescue.

Put another way, the System Grandpa seems to have a brief period of precognition.

Well… should I learn interventional surgery? Zheng Ren, through thinking, gradually had the idea of putting on lead clothing to perform interventional surgery.

But it's just an idea; Zheng Ren currently has no plan to put it into practice.

System experience points aren't durable; 75,000 points of experience amount to less than 21 hours of surgery training time at most.

For a completely unfamiliar surgical branch, twenty hours is useless.

This is completely different from the beginning, when the System Grandpa directly gave twenty days of surgery training time; back then the light and shadow in the System Space grew blurry, as if it would shatter the next second.

Zheng Ren felt that the system was in extreme danger back then, directly giving twenty days of training time, which should have been a do‑or‑die move.

As for now, let's just gradually accumulate surgery training time.

Besides, the biggest problem now isn't studying surgery but getting proper rest—I'm even hypoglycemic.

Zheng Ren certainly doesn't want to end up lying in the funeral home tomorrow, listening to the hateful hospital leader recite insincere eulogies over him.

With the System Space's recovery, mental strength isn't lacking; it's just the body that can't take it.

Zheng Ren saw that the system had stopped issuing new tasks and was observing changes in the System Space. At that moment he suddenly felt a crisis approaching; a thought moved him, and he returned to the real world.

……

……

"It's him! The son of a bitch actually dared to hit my mom!" a violent voice came from not far away.

"It's him who kicked me! And you call yourself a doctor? Bullshit!" The old lady who had been causing a scene by grabbing Director Xiao's collar at the hospital appeared, jumping about, pointing at Zheng Ren and spitting out vicious words.

As for whether Zheng Ren had actually kicked her at the time, she didn't care.

His blood sugar had returned to normal, and the sweat on Zheng Ren's back had gradually dried, sticking to his skin and feeling unpleasant.

Zheng Ren looked up and saw a tall man whose exposed neck, arms, and hands were covered in twisted, deformed dragon tattoos, wearing a thick gold‑orange chain as thick as a finger, leading a few people as they burst in.

The hallway was full of emergency patients and their families; they froze, carefully making way for the frightening, savage‑looking burly man.

Generally, no one wants to provoke such a wicked person.

Because the emergency work had ended, the police from the nearby branch bureau who had been maintaining order had already left.

Hearing the noise outside, two hospital‑assigned guards opened the big iron door of the security room and poked their heads out.

"Look at you, you damn…!" the burly man cursed, his eyes flashing sideways, exuding arrogance.

The two guards didn't hesitate at all, immediately put on a smile, and shut the big iron door.

With a "bang," it served as background music for the hasty imitation and the inner panic.

Zheng Ren felt helpless; in the hospital, this kind of thing happens all too often.

The guards are also contract workers, merely wearing auxiliary police uniforms. If a dispute really broke out, they wouldn't dare to lay a hand on anyone; if they injured someone, regardless of fault, they'd first be fired, then made to pay compensation and apologize.

They're all a bunch of miserable guys, and Zheng Ren didn't blame the guards for backing down.

What should we do in this situation?

Just take the beating; what else can we do?

Medical staff get assaulted every day across the country; Xiangya Second Hospital is considered one of the more upright hospitals, but the eventual outcome? It's still disheartening.

Facing a man as solid as a tower, Zheng Ren flashed a thought—if he got beaten up, could he perform the surgery himself as the lead surgeon under local anesthesia?

Although he was afraid, Zheng Ren didn't back down.

Of course, backing down wouldn't help anyway; that's certain.

Anyway, we're going to get beaten up anyway—who would we be putting on a cowardly act for?

Zheng Ren fell silent, stood up, and moved his shoulders and neck a bit.

A few doctors and nurses trembled, wanting to step in, but were intimidated by the burly man's aura; they're all cultured folk who only argue with words, never come to blows.

"Yo, little bro, you still want to practice a couple moves?" the tower‑like man sneered, his fist clenched like a sandbag; from ten steps away Zheng Ren could hear the cracking sound of his knuckles.

Zheng Ren wasn't preparing to fight back; his close‑combat skill was basically zero, so what could he use to strike someone?

He was just loosening up his muscles and bones; at least he'd recover a bit faster after getting beaten.

The formerly noisy hallway fell silent, with over a hundred people staring at each other, mute as cicadas in winter.

"What are you trying to do?" Xie Yiren rushed up to Zheng Ren, arms wide open, wanting to shield him with her body.

Zheng Ren gave a wry smile; Xie Yiren's petite frame… her slender build had not an ounce of fat. She's lovely to look at, but absolutely cannot take a hit—one punch and her bones would break.

He hurriedly covered Xie Yiren's mouth and pulled her behind him. Zheng Ren had already resigned himself to being beaten; he only hoped the young miss wouldn't have to share his suffering.

Tieta obviously very satisfied with his intimidation power, like a cat catching a mouse, looking at Zheng Ren with a sinister smile, speaking in a deep, muffled voice: "Pretty impressive, dare to hit my mom?"

Zheng Ren gave a bitter smile, reasoning with him? Don't be ridiculous!

This is the difference between making you wear a hat and not making you wear a hat.

He tried hard to recall, in the Emergency Department Operating Room, when that guy encountered such a situation, his practiced self-protection moves.

Zheng Ren felt he couldn't learn it; that big brother must have been beaten countless times to have practiced such skill.

Director Pan wasn't there; he had gone to the internal medicine ward to find an empty bed. Good thing he wasn't there—with Director Pan's foul temper, if he were here, we'd surely get beaten together.

I'm young, a beating wouldn't hurt me. Director Pan's old arms and legs—if he got a fracture, that would be bad.

Zheng Renyi crouched, shielding Xie Yiren in the corner, hands over his head, posture very awkward.

"Young man, doctors are life-saving bodhisattvas." An old man lay on an extra bed in the Emergency Department hallway, speaking softly.

The voice was very soft, but the hallway was especially Silence, many people nearby heard the old man's words.

His nitrite poisoning symptoms were mild, likely related to the elderly eating little.

After an intravenous drip of Meilan, the originally light blue-gray all over his body had gradually faded, obviously improving.

"Dad, don't say that." A middle-aged man in his forties leaned close to his ear, softly advising him, while turning his face, giving Heita an apologetic smile.

"Beast!" The old man, somewhat agitated, slapped his son's face: "How did I raise you?!"

His voice rose, two veins on his forehead bulged, looking quite frightening.

Not much strength, voice very soft.

That slap seemed to strike everyone's face, hitting everyone's heart, and the hallway atmosphere stalled for a moment.

"Dad, control your emotions, watch your blood pressure." This scared the middle-aged man half to death; if his agitation caused a Blood Vessel in the brain to rupture and bleed, things would get even more chaotic.

"A drop of water's grace, repay with a spring!" The old man struggled to sit up: "This doctor, exhausted from saving lives, you just watch him get beaten? Get lost! Don't bother helping me—I don't have a son like you!"