The winter night in Huaicheng is as cold as a silent knife. After cutting through the darkness, only sporadic lights and the cold wind like a blade remain. This was once a bustling commercial port, but now it has been shaken by war and political instability. In the alley in the distance, a cold scent of traditional Chinese medicine floated in, carrying a somewhat inexplicable fishy smell.
The medical center at the end of the alley is called "Ningdu Hall". This is an inconspicuous small building. The signboard on the door lintel has faded. Only by looking closely can you make out the three characters. Neighbors avoided this medical clinic, but no one dared to talk loudly. Because the owner of the medical center, Song Linchuan, is an out-and-out weirdo.
Song Linchuan was nearly thirty years old, with a pale complexion, but his eyes always revealed a kind of shrewdness that made people shudder. His medical skills are superb, and whether it is a difficult disease or a poisonous backlash, he always has a way to save people. But it is said that everyone he saves will inexplicably develop a dependence that is difficult to let go of afterward, as if their fate is tied by an invisible thread.
It was dark at night, but dim oil lamps were lit inside the hospital. Song Linchuan sat at the table. Spread out on the table was a map full of detailed secret notes. There was a small blue and white porcelain jar on hand, which contained the highly toxic powder he had just prepared, exuding a strange light blue luster. His fingertips tapped lightly on the map, and the corners of his mouth raised slightly, as if he was planning a chess game that could change the situation.
