Hoyles and I ignored the man and quietly entered the labor room.
“Doctor… can I sign the consent form myself? I really can’t hold on anymore,” the woman whispered weakly, her eyes full of pleading.
Hoyles reassured her gently. “Don’t worry. We’re here. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Hoyles placed both hands on the woman’s swollen belly, confirmed the pup’s position, then began moving his hands continuously.
I watched every step of his manipulation carefully. I knew Hoyles was manually repositioning the fetus. This method wasn’t rare, but few dared to do it—and even fewer had the skill to succeed.
Every single movement he made was worth learning from.
I might excel at secret silver-needle techniques, but I still had shortcomings elsewhere. I wasn’t omnipotent—there was still so
