Chapter 13

Chen Jue snapped back to attention and asked Zhou Qingshan, "Do you want to stand up again?"

A flicker of hesitant guilt passed through Zhou Qingshan's eyes, but there was undoubtedly a glimmer of hope within them. Everyone wants to live a good life.

Chen Jue continued, "Only by standing up will you stop being a burden to your family and be able to earn your own money."

Zhou Qingshan finally nodded. "I want to stand up."

Uncle Liu was on the verge of tears of joy, nodding repeatedly. "Good, good. We'll get it done tomorrow."

Zhou Qingshan said to Uncle Liu, "Father, these past days have been hard on you. I haven't been a good son."

This time, Uncle Liu's eyes truly turned red.

"Father, go take care of your work. I'd like to talk a bit more with Jue Geer and ask how I can recover faster."

After Uncle Liu left, Zhou Qingshan looked at Chen Jue and smiled bitterly. "Jue Geer, thank you for encouraging me. I'll live a good life, I promise. But can you tell me what's wrong with me?"

He patted his leg. "I don't mind that my leg's broken. It is what it is. I can still get around on crutches and work. But I don't understand why I suddenly lost it like that. The medicine you prescribed—I took it for seven days and I was feeling a lot better. Really. I don't know what happened to me today either. When it hit, I couldn't control myself at all..."

Chen Jue glanced at him. Zhou Qingshan was an adult; he knew there was something else wrong with him.

"It's called post-war aftereffects, or survivor's guilt. It's a psychological condition."

Chen Jue was straight with him. Although Zhou Qingshan was only twenty-three, in this day and age, twenty-three was old enough to be the head of a household. Especially in Uncle Liu's family—he was supposed to be the strong one.

"Sur... survivor's syndrome?" Zhou Qingshan muttered, not quite understanding. He pressed further: "Is there any medicine that can fix this fast?"

Chen Jue gave him a look.

The medicine he'd prescribed was just for inflammation, swelling, and helping him sleep. It wasn't for treating psychological conditions.

Psychological issues were the hardest to treat. You either went hard or took it slow.

Even the hard methods depended on whether the patient had the guts for it.

When it came to PTSD, doctors were always split into two camps.

One camp believed in taking it slow. Patients who shut themselves off and were afraid to face people did it because they didn't want to relive the horrors.

So the most common treatment in hospitals was conservative therapy.

Step by step, letting time heal the wounds. In other words, avoid the wound, forget it. It was a very, very slow process.

The faster methods were harsher—desensitization. Making the patient relive their worst moments over and over until they went numb.

Did Zhou Qingshan have that kind of guts?

Zhou Qingshan caught the look in his eyes and quickly said, "I can handle anything! I'm not scared anymore, really. Try me!"

He started trying to get up to prove it, but Chen Jue stopped him. After thinking for a moment, he asked, "Brother Qingshan, let me ask you about your injury. Is the cut where your leg was amputated clean?"

"Wh... what cut?" Zhou Qingshan felt like he couldn't understand half of what Chen Jue was saying.

Chen Jue rephrased: "I mean your wound—where the leg was cut. Is it clean, straight across, or at an angle?"

Zhou Qingshan's lips trembled a little. "...Clean. Fl... flat."

Chen Jue acted like he didn't notice and kept going: "So what weapon cut your leg? What kind of blade was it? You said last time it was curved. Think hard—if it was curved, one slash should've left a slanted cut."

Zhou Qingshan's face went pale. He clenched his fists as hard as he could, but his arms still wouldn't stop shaking.

Chen Jue, like he didn't see a thing, kept pushing: "Did the army doctor re-cut it later? Think hard?"

Big beads of sweat rolled down Zhou Qingshan's face.

Under Chen Jue's relentless questioning, Zhou Qingshan finally spoke: "It was cut off in one slash. A gleaming blade came at me—the blade... it seemed curved. No, I didn't see the blade clearly. I just saw a flash of light. I instinctively tried to run, but... I didn't make it."

After saying this, Zhou Qingshan squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for breath. His fingers, clenched into fists on his thighs, had probably dug into his flesh. It took him a long while before he painfully opened his eyes and went on with trembling lips: "I don't know how I fell to the ground. It hurt so much. When I was rolling in pain, I realized my leg was gone... After that, I passed out. I thought I'd be buried in the pile of corpses like Dalin, but when I woke up again, I was in the medical tent."

Chen Jue nodded. Zhou Qingshan had a strong enough mind—he could handle the recall.

The first step to facing fear was recalling the details. The best way to kill the fear was to remember the situation as vividly as possible—the wounds, the moment—and break it down piece by piece to desensitize.

Chen Jue would stop this probing here for now. Let Zhou Qingshan digest all this first. In a few days, he would start asking about the enemies—having him recall the people who cut him and the people who cut Huo Lin, getting him to burn each enemy into his memory, turning his pain into hatred.

Once deep-seated hatred for the enemy replaced the pain, the fear would fade.

After that step, he'd have him work hard and earn money. Day after day, he'd eventually get past it.

This was the treatment plan Chen Jue had for now. He wasn't a real psychologist—he could only do so much with what he'd learned in a few elective classes.

"Thanks, Jue Geer." Zhou Qingshan said, his face still pale. He didn't get why Chen Jue was asking all that, but he figured it was part of the treatment.

Chen Jue gave him a long look. Zhou Qingshan was like a guinea pig to him.

Honestly, he wanted to use the fast method too.

As they say, running from a problem never solves it, and hiding it doesn't fix the root.

You can only move on faster by facing the pain head-on.

Of course, he'd need some extra treatments too—like having him do some dirty work.

Carrying manure and watering the garden—seeing the everyday, safe things of life.

Manure from your own kind made people feel safe.

Chen Jue was already picturing him hauling manure and watering the garden once he got his prosthetic leg.

"I never knew you knew so much about medicine, Jue Geer. That's amazing."

Seeing Zhou Qingshan's simple, honest smile, Chen Jue coughed. "It's nothing. Anyway, I gotta go. Until the crutches are ready in a couple days, keep moving even while you're lying down—move both legs. Use the medicine as I said, and eat more meat and eggs..."

Realizing there wasn't much meat or eggs around, he changed it: "Just eat more food to build muscle. When you can stand, your legs need the strength to hold up your whole body."

Before going into cardiac surgery, Chen Jue had spent three years in general surgery and had seen all kinds of injuries, so he knew a little about everything.

Zhou Qingshan's was a low-level amputation. Lucky for him—if it had been higher up, he might not have made it.

His wounds had already scabbed over. The most important thing now was exercise and rehab to keep the muscles from dying and causing bigger problems.

Zhou Qingshan nodded over and over. "Alright, I'll do whatever you say."

Chen Jue turned before leaving and added, "Post-traumatic stress won't heal overnight. You'll have episodes from time to time—that's normal. Don't rush yourself, and don't wallow in self-pity. I need you to give me time to study this. This is my first time treating someone like this."

He put it in a very self-focused way; normally, he should have said to give Zhou Qingshan time, but Zhou Qingshan had a guilt-prone personality, so he deliberately said the opposite.

Sure enough, Zhou Qingshan quickly said, "I'm not in a hurry, Jue Geer, so don't you be either. Really, your medical skills are already amazing. I had no idea you could treat people. Before... Dalin never mentioned it to me."

He still hesitated a bit when mentioning Huo Lin, but he could now bring him up normally.

Chen Jue wasn't bothered that his medical skills were out in the open. This was only the start—he'd master more later, and it would come out eventually, so why bother hiding it?

Once he crafted the crutches and prosthetic leg, they'd all know anyway.

But he'd need to go to the county to buy paper and pens first, draw up the designs, and find the village carpenter to build them.

Chen Jue stepped out of Uncle Liu's house, lost in thought.

Zhou Qingzhu ran after him: "Jue Geer, wait up! I'm just about to finish baking the flatbread—take some with you. Nannan, quick, grab Uncle's sleeve."

Chen Jue waved at the little girl: "No need, I've already got food ready at home."

Uncle Liu's family didn't have much to begin with, and they had a patient who needed proper meals.

He had to look after his own household first.

Gratitude can't fill anyone's stomach.

Besides, the Huo family's debt to the Zhou family wasn't his to repay, and Chen Jue didn't want to owe too many favors. Even though cooking really wasn't his strong suit, he had to get used to making his own meals.

He could hire someone to cook once he had money, but that seemed a long way off.

But Chen Jue had barely made it out the door when Zhou Qingzhu caught up and pressed two flatbreads and two eggs into his hands.

Chen Jue looked at the eggs, at a loss for words. He already knew how tight things were in the village. People couldn't even get enough to eat, let alone have eggs.

In the village, eggs were hard to come by. Even the patient Zhou Qingshan hadn't had many, and little Nannan had none at all. He certainly couldn't eat them without feeling guilty.

Chen Jue put the eggs back into Nannan's hands.

Uncle Liu chased after him from behind: "You kid, you're carrying a child now. You need to eat well, gain some weight, so you'll have the strength to give birth."

...

Chen Jue paused mid-step. He'd almost forgotten again that he was the one who'd be giving birth.

The next day, Chen Jue went to the county with Uncle Liu. The two rode in Village Head Zhou's ox cart. Even with the cart, they had to get up early—the journey took a full hour—so that night, the big rooster didn't get its sleeping pills.

Sure enough, it woke Chen Jue up at the crack of dawn.

The ox cart was driven by Zhou Shuyao, Village Head Zhou's youngest son. He sat boldly at the front of the cart, holding a whip like it was a treasured blade. There was a fee: two copper coins per person for the ride.

Uncle Liu carried a large basket of chives and a back-basket full of greens, taking up quite a bit of space, so Zhou Shuyao clicked his tongue in mild annoyance: "Uncle Liu, you're heading to the county to sell vegetables? Think you can sell all that?"

Uncle Liu set the basket on the cart, then pulled two copper coins from his tightly wrapped money pouch and handed them over, offering an apologetic smile: "Whether I sell it all or not, I've got no choice. Dashan's leg is broken now, so I have to go to the county myself."

Zhou Shuyao started to say something but was cut off by his mother, Aunt Zhang: "Mind the cart and help the others get on."

Aunt Zhang steadied Uncle Liu's back-basket: "Brother Liu, sit tight. Your vegetables are among the best grown—you'll sell them all for sure."

Uncle Liu thanked her: "I'll take your word for it."

Behind Uncle Liu, Chen Jue also carried a large back-basket. Just as he was about to set it down, Zhou Shuyao took it from him. Chen Jue thought Zhou Shuyao didn't want him on the cart, but instead Zhou Shuyao beamed at him: "Oh, Jue Geer, why are you carrying so much stuff? All medicine?"

Chen Jue grunted in acknowledgment and pulled out two copper coins to hand him.

Zhou Shuyao's long string of words got only a single "mm" from Chen Jue, which left him a bit awkward. He coughed, about to say something more, but then remembered that this Chen Jue was just that quiet type—no point in saying more. So he reluctantly took the coins and said dryly, "Then sit tight."