The third rooster crowed outside as Chen Zhiyuan pulled out the last silver needle.
The old man on the bed began breathing steadily. His family thanked Chen profusely and tried to stuff eggs into his white coat, only to find it empty. It should have held the stethoscope issued by the township clinic, but the director had “temporarily confiscated” it three months earlier because Chen had asked too many questions about where the poverty-relief medicine funds had gone.
“Doctor Chen, this letter...” The old man suddenly gripped his wrist, his bony fingers pressing an envelope into his hand. “If I don’t make it, give it to the county...”
Before he could finish, a motorcycle roared to a stop outside.
Village Party Secretary Ma Fugui poked his head in, beaming. “Doctor Chen, you’ve worked hard! The county deputy director, Sun, is here for an inspection, and he specifically asked to try our village’s free-range chicken. You’re a good doctor, so help us figure out which one’s the most nourishing, will you?”
Chen Zhiyuan pressed the envelope in his pocket. Its sharp edge dug into his palm.
He suddenly remembered what his mentor had said: “Being a doctor in China sometimes means treating things far more troublesome than illness.”
Back then, he hadn’t understood.
Today, he might be about to find out.
