Blood Transfusion

  Cheng returned with a gloomy face and dusty head, his usually gentle countenance now filled with indignation and sorrow. The soldiers wanted to go comfort him, but seeing his red-rimmed eyes, they retreated in silence.

  Yun Ye stood at the edge of the barrel planted with potatoes, holding a small iron rake to loosen the soil for the potato seedlings. In his eyes, he wasn't loosening the soil for the potatoes, but rather serving the copper coins that filled the barrel. Every time he loosened the soil, it seemed as if he could hear the copper coins clinking and making a rustling sound. He was deeply immersed in this wonderful fantasy.

  Five days ago, the potato seedlings finally sprouted from the soil, with two tender leaves on top of the buds, and the emerald green leaves proved that the plant was well-nourished. Yun Ye also put his mind at ease and specially had three cups with Cheng Yaojin to celebrate. After finishing the soil, he was about to wash his hands and enter the account when he saw Cheng standing silently in front of the account, his eyes full of pleading, mud, bloodstains all over his helmet and armor, his left arm still bleeding slightly.

  Yun Reng was shocked, rushed forward and grabbed his arm, the small knife in his right hand had already cut open his sleeve, a two-inch long gash was bleeding profusely. He hastily ran into the large tent, rummaged through the emergency kit, let Cheng Chumou sit down, preparing to treat his wound. However, Cheng Chumou stopped Yun Reng, his mouth opened for half a day before squeezing out a few words: "I'm fine, save my brother." After saying that, he pulled Yun Reng towards the front camp and walked away.

  Cheng Chu Mo's brother was in a terrible state, with nine knife wounds. He had been a brave warrior who had fought on the battlefield several times, and when he was stabbed, he deliberately avoided vital organs, otherwise he would have died earlier. Even so, he lost too much blood, fell into a coma, and the military doctor shook his head repeatedly, saying that the wound was too severe and there was no way to save him.

  Yun Yan didn't understand, it was just excessive blood loss. After replenishing the blood, as long as there were no complications, he would be back to normal in a month or two, so how could he not be saved? Besides, I still had anti-inflammatory medicine on hand. Originally, because we went to rescue people in the Luanshi district, we carried a lot of messy medicines. That team leader was such an idiot that he didn't even let us bring extra food, otherwise I wouldn't have had to run so far for water and ended up running all the way back to the Tang Dynasty.

  With a plan in mind, he calmed down and pressed Cheng Chumo onto the bench, took out the suture needle and disinfected it with alcohol, used tweezers to clamp the cotton ball to clean his wound. Cheng Chumo showed no reaction to the stimulation of the alcohol, muttering to himself: "He was stabbed for me, these few knives should have been mine, I didn't use them."

  Yun Ye didn't pay attention to him, seeing that the wound had been cleaned and stitched with silk thread. Cheng Chu Mo was self-pitying, as if his flesh wasn't his own, letting others do whatever they wanted. The doctor next to him was shocked, seeing a young man sewing the wound with a needle, thinking it was impossible to use a needle on human skin. Just as he was about to stop him, the young man beckoned him over and whispered: "Watch closely, next time there's a similar wound, clean it thoroughly and then sew it up like this, it will help the wound heal better. Remember, use sheep intestine thread inside, that is, cut open a sheep's intestine, dry it in the sun, soak it in strong liquor, and then you can use it. Use silk thread outside." As he finished speaking, he also finished his task, took out Yunnan Baiyao, sprinkled it on the wound, and bandaged it up with gauze, doing everything with ease. The doctor began to suspect that this young man was a skilled physician.

  Cheng Chu Mo suddenly came back to life, earlier he had unconsciously pulled Yun Ye over, just wanting to find someone close to comfort himself and bear the pain for him, this was completely a subconscious action. At this time, Yun Ye skillfully treated his wound with an unprecedented method, which reignited hope in him.

  "Ayin, save my brother, save my brother, you must have a way, you must have a way, right?"

  "I have a way, don't worry, your brother won't die, two months later, he'll be fine again."

  The military doctor's eyes widened, as if he hadn't just done so. Yun Ye handled the wound with precision and order, having already cursed loudly earlier. He had never seen a doctor like this before. The patient was bleeding profusely all over his body, his breath was weak, and one more gasp would be fatal. Yet, he still spoke recklessly, guaranteeing that he could save the patient's life. What a good man! Even if he managed to survive by luck, he would only be able to lie in bed and catch his breath. Let's just see how he treats him, anyway, from what I can see, the patient is 99% dead, so let him struggle.

  "Is my brother okay?" Cheng Chumu thought he had misheard and hastily asked another question.

  "When did I ever deceive you, saying he wouldn't die, and he didn't die? Let go, don't block me from saving him." After hearing this, Cheng Chumu ran to the back of Yun Ye's body, his eyes fixed on Yun Ye, waiting to see how he would save the person. Yun Ye took out his phone and turned on the flashlight function, shining the light on the injured person's pupils, and saw that the pupils still had contraction changes, and he couldn't help but think: This guy's vitality is really strong.

  "I need blood now, human blood, your blood to save this guy. Who's willing to donate?" The surroundings suddenly fell silent, with everyone exchanging glances and hesitating for a moment. Cheng Chumou gritted his teeth and took a step forward: "A Yan, use mine. Anyway, my life is also saved by him, so it's only fair that I return the favor." Yun Yan's eyes revealed an uncontrollable look of admiration, and he couldn't help but silently cheer for Cheng Chumou: "Good man!" Just as he was about to explain that blood transfusions wouldn't kill anyone, a large hand suddenly landed on Cheng Chumou's neck: "I'm not dead yet, when did it become your turn? Yun Xiaozi, do you want human blood or any blood will do?" No one noticed Old Cheng standing at the door, covered in battle armor and holding a bloody knife. The killing intent emanating from him made Yun Yan almost dare not look straight at him.

  "Uncle, as long as the blood type is suitable, there's no problem."

  "Then take a look at these guys!" Old Cheng said with a horizontal knife, pointing to the 7 or 8 Qiang people tied up with ropes outside the door.

  "Wait until Little Nephew checks his blood type and then we'll talk."

  Yun Yan took out two pieces of glass and a light yellow test paper with five small squares, each divided into five colors. He placed these items on a tray, used a toothpick to prick the injured person's middle finger, squeezed out blood, and applied it to the five small squares on the yellow test paper. Then, he squeezed out another drop of blood and applied it to the glass. He changed to a new toothpick, pricked his own middle finger, took a drop of blood, and mixed it with the injured person's blood. He then combined the two pieces of glass, slid them gently, and observed carefully. After a moment, he had the result: the injured person's blood type was different from his own. Looking at the test paper again, only the blue square for A-type blood had changed color; the others remained unchanged.

  After determining the injured person's blood type, Yun Yan approached the several Qiang people. The Qiang people didn't understand what they were saying and instinctively felt that something was not right, so they desperately tried to shrink back. Several burly men grabbed their hands and handed them over to Yun Yan. At this time, Yun Yan felt like a Japanese person. After taking blood from each of their hands, he discovered that two of them had the same blood type as the injured person.

  He ordered his guards to wash the arms of these two individuals clean, as they were covered in grease; he didn't want the injured person to die from bacterial infection.

  The Qiang people who were blindfolded struggled desperately, but under the efforts of the guards, Yun Ye still managed to insert the needle of the rubber tube into the blood vessel. As they watched, some darkened blood slowly flowed into the injured person's body, and the injured person's breathing became more and more relaxed. Their lips began to show a hint of redness. The doctor felt the injured person's pulse, his eyes shining brighter and brighter, his mouth opening wider and wider. Meanwhile, in the large tent, everyone except Old Cheng and his son showed joy on their faces, while the others looked at Yun Ye with increasing reverence.

  Zhuang San stopped bleeding, but the wound that had just been staunched began to bleed again. Yun Ye used a pair of tweezers to carefully clean the wound with a cotton swab, not wanting to leave any sequelae after barely saving him. The military doctor became his assistant, one person holding a needle to sew up the wound.

  Although my hands were shaking badly, I managed to sew the seven twists and eight turns in a sloppy manner. Anyway, Zhang San didn't rely on his face to eat, so he didn't care about the quality of the sewing. It's not easy to survive a disaster, so who dares to be picky? The Qiang person died, not from blood transfusion, but from being scared to death. No one questioned the Qiang person's death, and even the kind-hearted military doctor only complained that the Qiang person's feces and urine dirtied the tent, as if the Qiang person's life wasn't worth a single tent.

  Yun Yan didn't use the white medicine this time, after all, he had brought too little of it. The wound on Zhuang San's body was too large, and using two or three doses would have finished it off. The military doctor used a type of ointment to apply to his wound. Yun Yan picked up the ointment and smelled it - it was slaked lime, mixed with some other medicinal ingredients. Yun Yan didn't understand what kind of medicine could still be effective after reacting with slaked lime. In his mind's eye, slaked lime was either used for whitewashing houses or for brushing fruit trees to prevent insects, he never thought it could also be used for brushing wounds. He couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed about his own narrow-mindedness. He took out a box of ceftriaxone and handed it to Cheng Chumou, instructing him to take two pills at a time, three times a day. As for whether Zhuang San could survive the wound infection, that would depend on luck.

  Lao Cheng's eyes shone brightly as he grabbed Yun Yan without waiting for him to ask what had happened, and dragged him away with a jerk. As they walked, he ordered his personal guards to bring all of Yun Yan's medical equipment to the commander's tent. Cheng Chu Mu thought for a moment before following his father to the tent.

  "Can you lend me your life?" Old Cheng's eyes stared tightly at Yun Yan, almost nose to nose. Yun Yan turned his head with difficulty, very unaccustomed to speaking to people like this.

  "No way." Old Cheng's question was too absurd, and he immediately denied it. Otherwise, he would have to find another way to borrow his life again, which would be even more troublesome.

  "Why did you use the small tube to extract blood from San Ting's body, and yet he came back to life while the Qiang person died? Isn't this borrowing a life?" Cheng Chu Mo's eyes were filled with the fierce flames of the Eight Trigrams.