Chapter 31

Zhang Yan was far too skinny and small, while Zhou Dajiang was too large—and if his head were smaller, it might not matter, but Zhou Dajiang's head wasn't small either, not by a long shot.

Chen Jue thought of the child's head circumference he had felt when he touched Zhang Yan's belly earlier, and he couldn't shake the worry. The other reason for the difficult labor was that the baby's head was big.

If modern technology were available, doctors would have recommended a cesarean section to the family when the baby was seven or eight months old, using a 4D ultrasound.

With a big head and the cord wrapped around the neck, natural delivery was way too risky.

Chen Jue brought the medicine for Zhang Yan to drink—this was his own ancient-style version of a labor-inducing remedy. Ever since he found out he was pregnant, he'd been preparing medicines related to pregnancy and childbirth, and he'd kept these medicines ready the whole time.

Astragalus to boost qi—each contraction sapped a huge amount of the mother's strength.

Besides the generous amount of astragalus, there was also angelica and chuanxiong, to help the placenta come out more easily later.

Turtle shell to help the pubic bone open up smoothly.

And charred human hair, which stopped bleeding—if the birth canal tore badly, the charred hair could stop the bleeding, and with a big dose of astragalus, it could keep the blood from pouring out.

In addition to this, Chen Jue sliced the ginseng he had brought into pieces, without boiling it, because it wasn't for Zhang Yan to eat—just to help him keep up his strength.

In old TV dramas, they always had the laboring mother hold a ginseng slice in her mouth and sip ginseng soup, but modern medicine actually didn't recommend this, because it could easily cause heavy bleeding, especially if a natural birth turned into a C-section later.

So when the pain got really bad, Chen Jue gave him a slice to hold in his mouth, and told him, "Hold it in your mouth, don't swallow it."

Every contraction hurt and drained his qi, but biting the ginseng slice gave back a little strength—kind of like the energy and nutrient shots used in modern childbirth, just to give the mother the strength to keep going.

A lot of mothers, by the end of labor, had lost so much blood they couldn't even feel the pain anymore, let alone have the strength to push the baby out.

Zhang Yan was already in so much pain his vision was going blurry. With the ginseng slice giving him a little strength, he mumbled weakly, "Did you dig this up yourself? Isn't it... weren't you gonna sell it? Cutting it up means it won't sell for much now, right?"

Even now, he was still worried about Chen Jue making money. Chen Jue's eyes got a little wet.

Chen Jue smiled and said to him, "There were two roots—one was saved for you."

In the past few months, he'd only dug up two ginseng roots, both around thirty years old.

He'd kept them the whole time, planning to sell one when the timing was right, and saving the other for Zhang Yan to bite on during labor.

He'd also planned to look at the old childbirth formulas.

But just as he'd feared, even after the weishi hour came and went, Zhang Yan still hadn't delivered. Even with the ginseng slice in his mouth, he was completely out of strength. The baby wasn't breech, but the head was too big and just wouldn't come out.

It was stuck in the pelvis. Aunt Zhao's face had gone pale. She rarely delivered gē'er—their pelvises were smaller, their bones harder, nothing like a woman's softer body.

For gē'er, childbirth was often a roll of the dice.

If the first birth went smoothly, the rest usually did too.

Also, back then people were poor, so babies were small and thin, which made delivery easier. But Yan Ge'er was the opposite—he was skinny and small, but the baby had gotten big.

If the Zhou family hadn't paid her a good chunk of silver, and Aunt Zhou hadn't kept begging, she wouldn't have taken this on. Now she was completely stuck.

Two lives were on the line, and her face was grim. A midwife's job was to bring happy news, but this didn't look like it would end happily.

When Zhang Yan passed out, Aunt Zhao went out to the yard and told Zhou Dajiang and Aunt Zhou, who were waiting there, that there was nothing more she could do.

Aunt Zhou crumpled to the ground right then and there.

Zhou Dajiang shoved past Aunt Zhao and headed straight for the birthing room.

Just as he was about to go in, he ran into Chen Jue, who was hurrying out. He grabbed Chen Jue and dropped to his knees: "Jue Ge'er, please, save Yan Ge'er—I'll do whatever it takes."

"Carry him to my place! Hurry, and don't drop him," Chen Jue said, then turned and strode out first.

Huo Lin saw how fast he was moving and had to jog to keep up.

Chen Jue moved way faster than Zhou Dajiang, even with Zhang Yan in his arms.

Back in his room, he pulled out the things locked in the camphorwood chest, one by one.

He ignored the look Huo Lin was giving him from the side.

No time, and no mood, to worry about that.

"Aunt Zhou, boil water—boil as much as you can!" Chen Jue yelled out to the yard.

Anesthetic crushed, wine, and lamplight.

Scissors, scalpel, hemostatic forceps, and suturing forceps were re-sterilized, and the treated linen cloth was soft and pure white.

When he struggled to spread it out over the kang, Huo Lin beside him took it over and, like scattering flowers, gave it a shake—spreading it perfectly flat over the soft bedding.

Three full layers were laid down.

Zhou Dajiang had already carried Zhang Yan over. Zhang Yan, who had been unconscious, woke up again during the journey and gave Zhou Dajiang a very weak smile: "I'm... fine, the baby..."

Zhou Dajiang's tears came pouring down. He said to Chen Jue, "Jue Ge'er, I beg you, save him—I only want him... I saw you save Xiaohua..."

Chen Jue looked at Zhou Dajiang: "I can perform surgery on him, but the family must sign a liability waiver."

After he said this, Huo Lin, standing across from him, glanced at him. Chen Jue's face was expressionless—this was his rule, the hospital's rule.

A risk disclosure notice, a critical illness notice. Even signing them didn't necessarily protect him—he had once issued a critical illness notice to Jiang Xinhe's family, and they had signed it too, yet he was still beaten to death.

But this was the procedure, and not a single step could be skipped.

"What do you mean by a liability waiver? Where is it? I'll sign!" Zhou Dajiang asked urgently.

Chen Jue picked up paper and brush, writing rapidly. Over these past few months, he had become adept at using a writing brush.

He no longer paid attention to Huo Lin's unnervingly calm gaze beside him.

He just quickly drafted the critical illness liability waiver, then explained it to Zhou Dajiang word by word.

Besides studying the physical structure of gē'er during childbirth from the earlier grave relocation, Chen Jue had also studied his own belly. He kept a notebook recording the fetus's growth—even at the very beginning, when every breath of the baby made him freeze, he still recorded everything.

Recording up to this very day, he could say with absolute certainty that gē'er childbirth could completely follow the model of a female cesarean section.

Even so, Chen Jue once again reiterated the dangers to Zhou Dajiang.

His cold ruthlessness made Zhou Dajiang freeze for a moment, and finally, with trembling hands, he pressed his fingerprint onto the waiver Chen Jue had written.

"Alright, you go out. All of you, get out."

Huo Lin didn't leave. Instead, he picked up the clothes and stood in front of Chen Jue: "I'll assist you."

Chen Jue glanced at him and said nothing.

He reached his arms through the hemp cloth garment Huo Lin held open for him, and put a white mourning cap on his head.

This surgery wasn't like the one he'd done on Xiao Hua; he needed a helper.

Chen Jue no longer cared what this man might think of him; a life was on the line.

Zhang Yan, who had heard everything, squeezed Chen Jue's hand tightly: "If I don't make it... you gotta protect..."

Chen Jue cut him off harshly: "You must live! Trust me!"

Don't talk to him about choosing the mother or the baby—he was sick of it.

For him, there was no way he'd abandon the mother for the child—not before, and not now.

His voice was low and intense, as if it came from deep in his chest. Zhang Yan was startled and didn't dare say another word.

Huo Lin, standing nearby, gave him a long, hard look.

After that outburst, it was as if Chen Jue had released some pent-up emotion. He quickly began preparing for the surgery, calm and methodical.

Everything was ready by the time the anesthetic kicked in on Zhang Yan.

Zhang Yan fell asleep right on schedule.

This was the dosage he'd figured out through experiments with roosters, Xiao Hua, and rabbits. He'd given the same to Zhang Yan.

This time, the dose was a bit stronger. A cesarean should normally use local anesthesia, but he didn't have the means right now.

With no anesthesia, the surgery would take about fifty minutes. Chen Jue didn't light incense; he just counted the time in his head.

He'd cleaned the room as best he could, but no matter how much he tidied, it wasn't a sterile room, so he had to work fast.

This was the fastest surgery Chen Jue had ever done.

After cutting through the abdominal skin, he tore through seven layers with blunt dissection, finally getting a clear look at the baby's head.

He adjusted how wide he'd torn, and just as the head was about to get caught, he pulled out the baby. The amniotic fluid was gone, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around its neck, leaving the little one blue and purple.

The person next to him quickly handed him sterilized scissors. After cutting the cord, he held the baby upside down and gave it a few pats on the butt. A weak cry, like a kitten's, finally came out—soft, but the baby was fine. The baby kept crying a few more times.

Chen Jue handed the baby to Huo Lin, who had his arms outstretched, without looking at Huo Lin, and turned back to finish the surgery.

He pulled out the placenta and checked the cavity.

"Checked once—nothing left. Checked twice..."

Once he was sure, he started stitching, layer by layer.

"Hemostats." Chen Jue forgot Huo Lin wouldn't know the term, but what got handed to him was exactly that.

Chen Jue didn't look at him, just kept stitching. The person beside him kept using forceps to dab away the blood with gauze. The moves were clumsy but correct, so Chen Jue didn't have to teach him and just kept his head down.

The room stayed warm because the boiler was burning.

The room was still too big. Even though he'd put on a layer of lime and a layer of hemp cloth, he couldn't keep the temperature steady like in modern times. Luckily, Zhang Yan gave birth in autumn; otherwise, he might have gotten too cold from all the blood loss.

The temperature was perfect for the unconscious patient, but sweat was beading on Chen Jue's forehead, and a clean piece of gauze wiped it away.

Chen Jue didn't even notice.

He stitched steadily, his needle flying, the wound closing into a neat line.

Beside him, the baby was wailing—maybe hungry, maybe freaked out by the new world outside the womb. His lungs sounded good.

For the first time, Chen Jue thought a baby's cry sounded nice.

This was the fastest surgery Chen Jue had ever done, even without a clock.

With no way to do a transfusion, Chen Jue had moved as fast as he could.

Once the whole abdominal cavity was stitched up and wrapped in gauze, Chen Jue gently covered Zhang Yan with clean hemp cloth and put a clean quilt on top.

The baby had quieted down.

Chen Jue straightened up and looked at him. The baby was sucking on its own finger.

Big forehead, wrinkly little face, red from crying, eyes still shut, puffy lids.

Chen Jue said softly, "You're not much to look at. Not as handsome as your dad."

As if it understood him, the baby started wailing again. Chen Jue reached for him, but his hands were covered in blood, so he couldn't.

He felt like Huo Lin, standing beside him, had smiled. With the mask on, he couldn't see his mouth, but his eyes gave it away. Chen Jue met his eyes, and he stopped smiling, his gaze turning deep and dark.

Chen Jue turned away.

He washed his hands and then picked up the wailing baby.

Outside the door, Zhou Dajiang had been pacing for God knows how long. When he saw Chen Jue open the door, he spun around and rushed over in a few steps: "How's Yan Geer?"

The sun was already in the west, it wasn't warm, and there was a bit of wind. Chen Jue didn't bring the baby out, just let him come in. Zhou Dajiang even tripped on the doorstep coming in.

Chen Jue saw him craning to look at the inner room and smiled: "He'll wake up in half an hour. Here's your kid."

"Then... can I go in and see him?" Zhou Dajiang held the baby even more awkwardly than Chen Jue had, already heading for the inner room.

Chen Jue grunted: "Yeah."

Aunt Zhou and Uncle Zhou outside couldn't wait to come in too.

Aunt Zhou took the baby and said to Zhou Dajiang, smiling, "Give me the baby. Go on, go watch over Yan Geer."

Huo Lin took off his mourning cap and white hemp clothes and handed them to Zhou Dajiang.

Zhou Dajiang didn't get it, but he put them on, clumsy but neat, washed his hands, then carefully went in.

The house was left to Zhang Yan and his family, full of joy.

Chen Jue closed the door, shutting out all the joy. The world outside was completely different—cold and bleak, just like this late autumn.

He looked coldly at the man standing under the tree.

He hadn't been sure before, but now he was certain—this wasn't the same Huo Lin.

He'd traveled to this world too.

He should've realized it sooner.

That silhouette was the same as before. Even in different clothes—coarse hemp and old rags—his stance hadn't changed.

His posture was almost too rigidly straight, carrying a piercing, unforgiving sharpness.

Most people's personalities are shaped and altered by their environment, but this man was not one of them.

This man came from a distinguished family and had served three years in the military; by all logic, he should have been easygoing and generous-spirited.

Yet his character remained exactly as it had always been.

He never budged an inch, and he was brutally demanding.

Chen Jue thought to himself that he should have figured out who he was a long time ago. He should have suspected it the moment this man questioned why he showed no grief over the death and no joy at his coming back.

He should have suspected it the countless times this man's eyes were full of scrutiny and curiosity.

He should have suspected it when this man knew more about medicinal herbs than he did about hunting...

And in this...

This man had barely disguised himself at all—he was the type to look down on pretense. He had simply chosen to keep his head down during this period, to just watch from the sidelines in this unfamiliar village.

He'd been spotted by this man the very first time they met.

Of course—the sterile room was such a dead giveaway. And his own attitude toward him had been so cold.

It was his own lingering doubt that stopped him from confirming it.

How could he have confirmed it? He himself had only arrived here after death. How could this man—whom the head nurse had said would live a thousand years as a menace and whom even the King of Hell wouldn't take—possibly die and then come here?

The man seemed to be waiting for him to speak, and when no words came, he turned around. In that instant, his eyes took on that familiar old look—cold and domineering.

"Huo Jilin, Mr. Huo." Chen Jue enunciated his name word by word.

Huo Jilin looked back at him. "Chen Jue, Doctor Chen."