For a moment, Dr. Zhu’s mind went utterly blank. He hadn't even finished his sentence, yet here the patient was convulsing again.

The room froze in a collective gasp.

“Oh no!” the patient’s husband cried out, throwing himself onto his wife to hold her still.

Gao-Yuan had just completed checking her pulse—a slow and fine rhythm, beating at a sluggish 60 times per minute. But before he could speak, the patient began to suffer another attack. She seemed lost in a maelstrom, as if the world around her had become a tempestuous ocean tossing her mercilessly. Her hands twisted into grotesque claws, her legs seizing violently as cramps gripped her calves once again.

Her husband, panicked and desperate, turned sharply toward Dr. Zhu. “Doctor, please, do something! You said the sedative would work!”

“Generally…it should,” Dr. Zhu stammered, visibly shaken. He hadn’t anticipated that even a sedative couldn’t subdue the symptoms.

“What now?” the husband demanded, his voice cracking with fear and frustration.

Dr. Zhu hesitated, his mind racing. Perhaps a higher dose of the sedative? But before he could act, Gao-Yuan had already stepped forward, unbuckling the cloth belt tied around his waist.

The sight stopped everyone in their tracks. From the belt, Gao-Yuan retrieved a neatly folded cloth pouch, which he opened to reveal a set of acupuncture needles and moxa sticks.

The crowd exchanged looks of bewilderment. Gao-Yuan carried this with him?

Few knew that this habit stemmed from a lesson hard learned. On a previous occasion, when rushing to save another life, he’d arrived empty-handed, ill-prepared. Only the fortuitous gift of two packs of cigarettes from a friend had saved the situation from descending into chaos. Since then, the needle kit was his constant companion, a quiet testament to vigilance and readiness.

“What are you doing?” Dr. Zhu asked, his tone tinged with both confusion and skepticism.

“Emergency treatment,” Gao-Yuan replied curtly.

Without waiting for permission, he slipped off his jacket and gently began to lift the patient’s clothing. With measured care, he exposed her abdomen up to just below her chest, covering the rest with his jacket to preserve her modesty.

“Hold this,” he instructed the husband, striking a match and lighting a stick of moxa. He guided the trembling man to hover the glowing moxa over the Shuang Rugen points at the base of the patient’s breasts.

Then, kneeling, Gao-Yuan adjusted the patient’s waistband slightly downward, his movements efficient but respectful. He rolled a tiny ball of moxa wool, no larger than a grain of wheat, and placed it precisely over the Guanyuan point below her navel. He lit it, performing a moxa cone therapy known as Mai Li Jiu.

The onlookers, including the gathered medical professionals, were dumbstruck.

He was already treating her?

Dr. Zhu hesitated. “Perhaps we should take over. This kind of situation is more in our wheelhouse.”

“I know a thing or two,” Gao-Yuan replied without breaking stride, retrieving thin needles from his kit. “Besides, we can’t keep increasing the sedative dose indefinitely. Let me stabilize her first. If it doesn’t work, then it’s your turn.”

Without waiting for consent, Gao-Yuan inserted needles with precision, stimulating the Renzhong (Philtrum) and Neiguan points on both wrists.

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Dr. Zhu, unaccustomed to being sidelined, frowned but found himself unsure how to respond. Gao-Yuan’s earlier tact in yielding to Western methods had left him little ground to object. He glanced at his superior, Director Yuan Hai, for direction.

Yuan Hai studied Gao-Yuan intently. The young doctor’s quiet confidence and history of delivering results swayed him. After a moment, he nodded. “Since the sedative didn’t work as expected, let’s see what Dr. Gao can do.”

Dr. Zhu had no choice but to relent.

Meanwhile, the other Chinese medicine practitioners crowded closer, their curiosity piqued by Gao-Yuan’s technique. They scrutinized his needlework and deliberated over his choice of acupuncture points, whispering amongst themselves.

“Is he just trying to save face?” one of them muttered to Elder Wan, a seasoned practitioner standing nearby.

“No one forced him to step forward,” Elder Wan replied, his voice tinged with intrigue.

Glancing back, Elder Wan noticed Dr. Wang Hanzhang and Dean Li from their local hospital engaged in a quiet conversation about what snacks to buy on the way home. Their apparent indifference irked him. How could colleagues from the same region show so little solidarity?

The patient’s husband, meanwhile, looked increasingly uneasy. He glanced at Dr. Zhu for reassurance but, receiving none, turned to a younger Chinese medicine doctor nearby. “Will this…will this actually work?”

Still focused on his task, Gao-Yuan interjected, “Remove the ‘will’ and the question mark.”

“Uh…what?” The husband blinked, momentarily puzzled.

The bystanders had grown accustomed to Gao-Yuan’s confident, even audacious, remarks. By now, his unshakeable self-assurance felt oddly natural.

Dr. Zhu folded his arms, watching skeptically as Gao-Yuan continued. Time ticked by, marked by the tension in the room.

Then, suddenly, Professor Han Dai, who had been observing the patient closely, spoke up. “Her convulsions—are they stopping?”

Everyone turned toward the patient.

Even Yuan Hai’s usually composed expression flickered with surprise.

“She’s no longer seizing,” Han Dai confirmed.

The patient’s husband leaned in, his heart pounding. In his eagerness, he almost let the moxa flame touch his wife’s skin, but Gao-Yuan caught his hand just in time.

“Careful! You’ll burn her,” Gao-Yuan chided.

Startled, the husband nodded hastily, adjusting his grip.

The convulsions ceased, and the patient’s face softened, the terror and contortion fading into calm.

“She’s stable,” someone whispered in awe.

“Her expression isn’t as strained anymore.”

“This is incredible!”

Dr. Zhu stepped closer, inspecting the patient with disbelief. “But will it recur?” he asked cautiously.

The room fell silent, all eyes on Gao-Yuan.

After checking her condition, Gao-Yuan replied, “Not for now, but prompt medication is crucial.”

Dr. Zhu hesitated, recalling how quickly the sedative had failed earlier. “Are you sure?”

“You can keep observing,” Gao-Yuan said with quiet assurance, removing the needles and ensuring the patient’s clothing was restored.

As others continued to monitor the patient, Gao-Yuan turned to the husband, seeking more information about her medical history. The man explained how the episodes began seven years ago, following the birth of their child. They had tried calcium supplements, but nothing worked.

The patient’s frailty was clear. She avoided cold foods and drinks, even in summer, and often dressed warmly even on hot days.

After listening, Gao-Yuan frowned. “Her internal organs are deeply burdened by cold.”

Professor Han joined the conversation, stroking his chin thoughtfully. The peculiar symptoms intrigued him, and he relished the opportunity to discuss such cases.

Meanwhile, the others watched the patient closely, noting her steady improvement.

“She’s waking up!” someone exclaimed.

The husband leaned forward, his voice trembling. “Honey, are you okay?”

The patient’s eyes fluttered open, her voice faint but coherent. “Mm…”

Tears welled in the husband’s eyes. He crouched beside the bed, his voice quivering. “You scared me to death. I’ll never dare argue with you again!”

The room, now buzzing with admiration for Gao-Yuan, turned its attention back to him. Even Dr. Zhu’s skepticism had softened. Though reluctant to admit it, he couldn’t deny the efficacy of the acupuncture.

Elder Wan clapped his hands. “They say acupuncture works fastest in emergencies, and today, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Remarkable!”

Others joined in, their applause ringing through the room.

“Just luck,” Gao-Yuan said modestly, though his steady gaze suggested otherwise.

Only Dr. Wang Hanzhang and Dean Li remained conspicuously silent.

Elder Wan frowned, his earlier irritation bubbling to the surface. “Aren’t you impressed? How can you not admire such skill?”

Their lack of enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed by Yuan Hai either, who cast them a disapproving glance. Feeling the weight of judgment, Dr. Wang finally blurted out, “Wow…”

Dean Li echoed weakly, “Wow…”

The room fell into an awkward silence.

“...”