CHAPTER 90: CHAPTER 90: GO FIND BEISITIAN (PART 3)

This time of year, there’s a lot of rain, and with it comes a flu outbreak. The elderly and children are the most susceptible to catching it.

Yang Wulang has been extremely busy lately. A mild cold can be treated with a medicine biscuit, but if it’s a fever, the villagers usually need an IV. His clinic isn’t large, with only five chairs, and they’re all occupied now.

Yet, outside, there are still several people holding children or supporting the elderly, waiting. Yang Wulang is swamped, like a spinning top. Ma helped out a bit the last couple of days, but now both their children are down with a fever, leaving only Yang Wulang to manage.

Yang Wulang has a son and a daughter, both in their teens. There’s a saying that teenagers can eat a father poor, but fortunately, his profession is a lucrative one. In Kao Village, they are relatively well-off.

"Old Yang, hurry up and get an IV for Chuan!" Ma rushed in anxiously.

Yang Wulang, sweating profusely, replied without turning his head, "I’m on it!"

Yang Chuan is his younger son, now thirteen. He caught the flu shortly after his older sister and is now running a fever.

"Hurry, hurry!" Ma urged.

To her, nothing in this room was as important as her son. Naturally, she prioritized her family above all else.

Though Yang Wulang was being pressed hard, he wasn’t angry, just a bit flushed. He knew he probably wouldn’t be spared this time either!

This wave of the flu was severe, coinciding with the seasonal change, making it easy to catch colds and fevers. Those who went to the town brought it back, spreading it to others in the vicinity.

Ma’s urging still echoed in his ears, but it seemed distant. Yang Wulang straightened up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His mind was buzzing, and he felt dizzy; he’d already misplaced the needle three times.

"Wulang, take it easy, look at what you’ve done to my mother’s hand!" the daughter-in-law said sternly, trying to appear dutiful.

Yang Wulang stood there, staring at the hand, so thin that only skin remained, and the veins were clearly visible, yet he couldn’t get the needle in.

"Tiancheng’s wife, my husband hasn’t even given his own son an IV yet, but he tended to your mother-in-law first, what more do you want? Look at how exhausted my husband is from all this these past two weeks! If it can’t be helped, we’ll close up today; our kids are feverish too!" Ma wasn’t one to back down. If you want to show filial piety, fine, but consider where you are first. He’s treating you, and you’re still finding faults.

Tiancheng’s wife pouted after hearing this. She was just speaking her mind and didn’t dare truly offend Yang Wulang’s family, as he’s the only doctor in the village.

Hearing talk of closing, everyone outside got anxious. If not seriously ill, who would come here for an IV?

"Tiancheng’s wife, we’re all waiting. If you want it, get it. If not, clear the way!"

Voices began to arise from outside, one after another. Already impatient from waiting, emotions were high, and they found a vent.

Tiancheng’s mother-in-law glared at Tiancheng’s wife, wondering why she was creating trouble for herself with all her fake antics!

Tiancheng’s wife’s attempt to flatter backfired, causing a mess, leaving her fuming!

As they chatted, there was a sudden ’thud,’ followed by Ma’s sharp scream.

"Chuan’s father!" Ma cried out as she rushed over.

Yang Wulang lay on the ground, his face completely pale except for his cheeks, which were flushed. His eyes were closed as he gasped heavily for air.

He had worked himself sick!

"Oh my god, everyone, please, help carry my husband to the back!" Ma, also pale with anxiety, pleaded.

A few of the accompanying men hurried inside, carrying him to the backyard with much effort.

The seated patients with their IVs were stunned. With Yang Wulang sick, what would happen with their needles?

The people outside were even more dumbfounded. At least those inside already had their IVs; what about those still waiting for one?

No one was tending to them anymore, and those still waiting returned home with gloomy faces. The once-bustling clinic soon had only the patients inside, with their IVs, staring at each other.

"My drip is almost finished. What should I do now?" an old man asked, looking up at the glass bottle hanging by a netted rope, its contents nearly depleted.

"Yang Wulang is down. His wife can’t attend to anything else now. You might as well pull it out yourself!" a woman suggested.

She intended to remove it herself. After all, she’d seen Ma do it before; just pull it out and press it down.

Hearing this, the old man realized he couldn’t let the blood flow back. Thinking this over, he had someone beside him hold the needle, and he removed it.

Yang Wulang fell ill, but the cases of colds and fevers in the village didn’t ease up. On the contrary, they seemed to be intensifying. Almost every household had someone sick, with severe cases bedridden for days, sweating under multiple blankets with no improvement. Ultimately, some were taken to the town clinic; they were cured but at high costs.

Those returning from the town generally didn’t look happy.

At Yang Wulang’s house, everyone wore worried expressions. Yang Wulang lay on the kang with a cold towel on his forehead, and beside him, their two children had towels too, while Ma sighed by the side.

She could only remove needles, not administer them. Yang Wulang indeed had been worn out. He slept restlessly, not waking for who knows how long.

Lately, he was sleep-deprived, with people coming at all hours for shots and IVs. Being the only doctor in the village, he couldn’t refuse, which eventually led to his falling ill.

By evening, the two children awoke, barely managed to have some porridge, and soon dozed off again, still feeling feverish like fire was burning within them.

The kang felt like it housed three furnaces!

At midnight, Ma didn’t dare sleep deeply. Any stir from the large or the small ones on the kang had her checking immediately, so when Yang Wulang stirred, she opened her eyes.

"Oh husband, you’re finally awake. What should we do now? What medicine should you take?" Ma, though she’d helped a lot, never learned; she couldn’t even read. With all the medicine lined up, she didn’t know which to pick!

Yang Wulang’s eyelids felt like they carried weights, barely opening. Hearing Ma, he mumbled something.

Not catching it, and seeing him about to drift off again, she leaned closer, "Don’t sleep, don’t sleep. What did you say? I didn’t hear."

"Go, go find Beisitian..."

Ma paused, thinking she’d misheard. Who’s Beisitian?

Yang Wulang muddledly fell asleep again, and after a long pause, she remembered. Beisitian was the young widow, Luo Er’s daughter-in-law!