First Position

Chapter 15: Self-Production and Self-Sales

Ren Xiaosu walked away, fuming with frustration. He had considered confronting the young doctor, perhaps even giving him a good beating, but his reasons for doing so were flimsy at best. After all, his original intention had been to take the man's livelihood. Being a doctor was undoubtedly an admirable pursuit. Ren Xiaosu wholeheartedly agreed with Yan Liuyuan’s perspective that being a doctor was one of the most rewarding professions, often met with deep gratitude from others. But how could he become a doctor without medical knowledge?

As he sat in the classroom, he couldn’t stop thinking. Then, he suddenly remembered the scene from the previous night when he had walked out of the pawnshop. A woman was crying outside the clinic, while a man lay bleeding profusely, eventually succumbing to his injuries. Ren Xiaosu idly glanced at his hand, surprised to see that the wound on his palm, which had been infected before, had already scabbed over. It turned out that the black ointment not only reduced inflammation but also sped up the healing process!

Ren Xiaosu, having experienced his fair share of injuries, was well aware of the body's natural healing abilities. A wound as deep as the one from a bird peck could take no less than seven days to even begin scabbing. Wait a minute—could this ointment be the key to him becoming a doctor? The doctors at the clinic only seemed skilled in deceit and boasting. But now, Ren Xiaosu had a miraculous remedy. Why couldn't he open a clinic of his own?

He imagined a clinic specializing in suturing wounds. When patients came in, he would simply stitch up the wound and apply the black ointment. It would be that easy. In the past, the old doctor had explained that he didn’t perform such suturing surgeries due to the lack of proper sterilization conditions. Leaving bacteria in the body could lead to death, so even if the wound was sewn, it would be in vain. The old doctor understood this very well. But now, Ren Xiaosu didn't need to worry about such things! He could perform surgeries without concern for sterilization.

With this idea in mind, Ren Xiaosu suddenly felt inspired. He even began to plan how to arrange things for Sister Xiaoyu. Her plans for the future were simple: perhaps she could find some patchwork or mending jobs to earn a living. But Ren Xiaosu knew this would be difficult—people in the town outside the wall were struggling, and no one would waste money on such repairs when they could do it themselves at home. But if they couldn’t sew clothes, why not sew wounds instead? He wondered if Sister Xiaoyu had a strong stomach for blood...

To get some advice, Ren Xiaosu consulted Zhang Jinglin, the teacher at the academy, who was quite knowledgeable. Zhang Jinglin looked at Ren Xiaosu with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “You want to open a clinic specializing in wound sutures? Do you have sutures?” Ren Xiaosu pondered for a moment and asked, “What are sutures?” Zhang Jinglin replied, “...Do you have any anesthesia?”

Ren Xiaosu blinked. “What’s anesthesia?”

Zhang Jinglin sighed and realized that Ren Xiaosu had no preparation whatsoever. With a patient expression, he began explaining, “Do you know why, in our town, so many people suffer from knife wounds, yet no clinic has ever handled such cases? It’s not just the issue of bacterial infection. There is also a shortage of anesthesia and sutures. I’ve heard that in the shelter, these supplies are in high demand.”

Zhang Jinglin continued, “Anesthesia must be administered with precision—too little, and it hurts; too much, and you risk causing long-term damage. As for sutures, they’re not just about strength; the friction coefficient must be suitable for passing through human tissue.”

Ren Xiaosu waved his hand dismissively. “These are just minor issues. If people are dying, who cares about pain? I’ll just use thread for sewing clothes to stitch them up.”

Zhang Jinglin was stunned. “What about sterilization?”

Ren Xiaosu grinned. “I have a secret recipe for that!”

Zhang Jinglin, though a learned man, was only specialized in certain fields. As he realized that Ren Xiaosu had no understanding of basic medical practices, he found himself at a loss for words. Finally, he waved his hand and said, “Go on, attend your next class. It’s Survival Class.”

Later that day, Ren Xiaosu, feeling emboldened by the taste of success, decided to extend his lesson until evening. By the time class ended, none of the students had realized the kind of life they were about to start. As they prepared to leave, Ren Xiaosu noticed that no one had thanked him. Unable to resist, he asked, “Aren’t you going to thank your teacher?”

The students, startled, quickly turned around in unison and said, “Thank you, teacher!” But Ren Xiaosu, disappointed, looked inwardly and realized that not a single coin of gratitude had been earned.

Earlier, Zhang Jinglin had told him that when teaching, it was normal not to be understood by students. Ren Xiaosu realized how much more effort he still had to put in.

On his way home, he spotted a light coming from his family’s shack from a distance. He hurried inside, only to find Sister Xiaoyu sitting on their rickety chair, stitching up clothes for the two of them. Nearby, there was a pot of corn porridge and wild vegetables. Clothes were usually left in the shack because there was no one around to steal them—if they did, they'd be easily recognized and dealt with.

When Sister Xiaoyu saw them, she smiled and said, “I came in without asking, but your clothes were torn, so I fixed them. Go ahead and eat.”

Yan Liuyuan reached for the porridge, which was a rare treat in the town. Usually, they ate black bread or potatoes. But Ren Xiaosu slapped his hand away. “Did you thank Sister Xiaoyu?”

Yan Liuyuan, always honest in front of Ren Xiaosu, said, “Thank you, Sister Xiaoyu.”

Sister Xiaoyu quickly replied, “Don’t be too hard on him.”

Ren Xiaosu, however, shook his head. “I can be lenient with him, but no one else will be when we’re out there.” He then looked seriously at Sister Xiaoyu. “Thank you for everything.”

Sister Xiaoyu smiled. “You’re welcome. So, what do you usually like to eat for dinner?”

Yan Liuyuan replied, “We usually don’t have dinner.”

“You two need to eat. You’re both growing,” Sister Xiaoyu said warmly.

For some reason, Ren Xiaosu suddenly felt that Sister Xiaoyu was like a sister they had always had. No one had ever told them that they were growing and needed nourishment.

“Sister Xiaoyu,” Ren Xiaosu asked, “You’re very good at sewing. When we open our wound clinic, would you come help us?”

“A wound clinic?” Sister Xiaoyu was taken aback. “Why did you suddenly think of opening a wound clinic?”

“Because I have a secret herbal remedy for treating knife wounds. It can reduce inflammation and help the wound heal quickly,” Ren Xiaosu said, showing her the scar on his palm. Sister Xiaoyu looked at it and noticed that the wound had indeed scabbed over and healed.

After a moment’s thought, Sister Xiaoyu said, “But there are fewer fights in the town now. In the past, ten people would get hurt in a day, but now it’s only one every few days.”

That was true. Apart from the person Ren Xiaosu had killed and the man who died in front of the clinic yesterday, there hadn’t been many fights. The incidents where people broke into homes in the middle of the night didn’t count, as those usually left no survivors.

Ren Xiaosu pondered. “What if I went and cut them down myself?”

Yan Liuyuan was immediately shocked. “Brother, you’re too ruthless. Is this what you call self-production and self-sales?”

Ren Xiaosu quickly shook his head. “No, no, we can’t do that. We must not let profit cloud our judgment.”