Chapter 652

Helping Each Other

It's been a while since I last posted a bonus chapter and chatted with everyone.

Today we reach the climax of this book—not seeing a doctor for a leader, not chasing a Nobel Prize, but engaging in earthquake relief.

Do you still remember Nurses' Day in 2008?

We were having a meal in the department when the director announced that an earthquake had struck Sichuan. At the time I didn't think much—I got home late and didn't pay attention. The next day, seeing the news that the 15th Army had been deployed, I realized something was off.

I immediately went to an internet café, to the Tianya Community (which was still one of the hottest spots back then), and saw the belated news.

Then I found a friend who graduated from Huaxi, we discussed it, and felt we were up to the task. We were young and strong, with rich experience in emergency and critical care, so we wouldn't be a burden to the Sichuan people and could actually be of use.

I immediately bought daily necessities—I got a huge travel bag full of chocolates—and called my uncle in Beijing to buy train tickets for me to go to Chengdu.

I took a shower and said goodbye to my parents. My late father, who has since passed away, was silent for a few seconds and then said—"Train soldiers for a thousand days, use them for a moment—go."

Unfortunately, a few hours later I got a call from my uncle: the trains to Chengdu were no longer selling tickets; everything was being used to transport supplies and troops.

My uncle said, "Don't go add trouble to the disaster area; the state is handling it."

Back then we didn't have a car, so the plan fell through, but I kept the memory in my heart, unable to let go.

Over a year later, I went to a meeting with teachers from the provincial capital.

While transferring at the airport, having a meal, I heard a teacher from the provincial capital's medical school nephrology department say that back then she had been assigned to join the disaster relief. Aftershocks, mosquitoes, insects—what could possibly bring down the people of Sichuan, except for the joke about not letting them play mahjong?

My whole body trembled, my nose felt sore, and I felt deep regret.

Now I think this incident was the first major event to occur after the Internet became ubiquitous in everyone's lives.

Moving the timeline back further, before the Internet was widespread, not everyone could learn what had happened within a day.

This is a historically significant event.

Bo Yang said, "The Chinese are ugly."

I have never admitted that, never. Though I lack evidence, the earthquake event that occurred after the Internet entered everyone's lives has given me and many like-minded people solace.

Units bearing old honorific numbers marched forward, starry-eyed, crossing mountains and rivers, rushing to the front lines.

Blood donation trucks were surrounded, water-tight, and the crowds refused to disperse for a long time.

Fleets of private cars and ambulances from all over the country rushed to Chengdu.

In Tianfu Square, tens of thousands gathered, shouting loudly, "Sichuan, rise up!"

The usually stern and rigid CCTV hosts were in tears during the live broadcast, one after another breaking down.

Every ordinary person responded in their own way to the surge of feeling in their blood.

Of course, there are problems—for instance, the Guo Mei crowd.

But that's not the mainstream; the nitpickers bring up examples, yet there's nothing to be done—each person has their own worldview.

Before 2008, the so-called elite dominated the internet, shouting "The Chinese are ugly." Well, that's basically today's "pill faction."

After that, the *** on the internet obviously increased. It seems that the term *** started then, and at the very least began to spread then.

Like the saying "After the fall of Jia Shan, there is no China," in my view that is completely unfounded.

Perhaps, in days when nothing happens, we continue our ordinary lives, seeing all sorts of things that are less than ideal. But once something occurs, countless examples already tell us what the nation's spirit is.

Absolutely not—one Jia Shan cannot break the ages.

Returning to this book, its main content is the daily life of a young doctor: diagnosis, treatment, surgery are routine; joking around is routine; showing off and getting slapped is the daydreams' routine—but none of that is the most important.

It's not about sneaking in private goods.

When the people need us, we step forward—that, too, is part of the daily routine.

Of course, deifying ourselves is unnecessary; doctors are human, we make mistakes, even really stupid ones.

Actually I'm afraid of the whole country promoting medical ethics like that, because it would mean something big has happened.

Helping each other with moisture is not as good as forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes.

Zhuangzi said it correctly.

Well, I've rambled on for half a day; today I added a chapter to talk about things.

With the help of the book friends, my monthly votes in the male channel have already reached fifteenth place—something I never dared to dream of before.

Just writing a young doctor's daily life and gaining everyone's approval makes me feel uneasy, to the point that this bonus chapter—I dreamed I woke up late today, forgot to update, was suddenly startled, got up at 2 a. m., and wrote it.

Um… talking about things.

Next month, I'm asking for monthly votes. Please, everyone, cast your baseline monthly votes for me at the start of the month—I'll reserve them here.

No book friend group, I'll say it again: no book friend group. As long as everyone gives their baseline monthly votes, that's enough!

I also want to send out monthly vote red packets through crowdfunding.

I also want to crowdfund the Silver Grand Alliance, get on TV, and so on.

But helping each other with moisture is not as good as forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes.

Perhaps you wait for updates each morning, lying in bed beside your spouse and children's faint snores.

Perhaps you read updates while squeezing onto the subway, smile a little, and forget the irritation of the crowds.

Perhaps…

Countless perhapses can bring you a little joy, and I'd be satisfied—I dare not ask for more.

Well, spending money—aside from subscribing, I dare not ask for more. Usually I shout twice for a tip, just treating it as me trying to keep the beat.

When I have nothing to do, I flip through all the badges. The gratitude for ten thousand tips, the monthly vote first place, the dark horse sprint—none of that I dare to imagine.

However, if you have the time and opportunity, book friends, please click a full‑praise rating on the upper‑right corner of the PC version of Qidian's page. A hundred full‑praise ratings earn a badge—it's free and looks simple enough.

Sorry for the trouble, everyone.

Finally, a clarification: this episode is not based on personal experience; much of it comes from asking Huaxi friends. For example, just minutes after the earthquake, the frontline clinical surgeons were all taken away to the front to rescue.

The matter is the same whether experienced personally or heard from others—there's always some exaggeration. Just don't slap me in the face~

Finally, thank you for your love, Jiu Gong~

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