Early the next morning.

Gao-Yuan now spent most of his nights at the clinic, as his home in Fucun Village was too far away. Going home every night and returning early the next morning would leave no time for sleep, with the journey alone consuming the entire night.

Nowadays, he only stays at home when conducting medical rounds, spending a single night there before heading to another village for further rounds. The rest of his time was dedicated to the clinic.

This arrangement made it easier to teach the group of trainee health workers from Huoxiang Village. It also ensured that he was available for any emergencies, as no one else at the clinic could match his expertise in handling critical cases.

Despite thinking he had woken up early, Gao-Yuan found the health workers already up and diligently reciting their medical notes before dawn. Their dedication was palpable.

These trainees had brought their own pots and made porridge from mixed grains, with each carrying a jar of pickled vegetables. Their daily meals consisted solely of porridge and pickles. In all the days they’d been there, they hadn't had a single proper meal or any fresh vegetables.

Occasionally, some patients—moved by their hardship—brought fresh vegetables as gifts. However, with no oil on hand and only salt to cook with, the trainees simply boiled everything together with the mixed grains into a haphazard stew.

The living conditions were equally tough. They slept on the ground in the rooms behind the clinic, over 20 people packed together. Turning over in their sleep could mean accidentally rolling onto someone else.

Despite such adversity, their eagerness to learn was unprecedented.

Gao-Yuan felt satisfied. The saying "barefoot doctors are the sunflowers of the people" truly resonated with him. These were doctors nurtured by the masses, affordable for rural communities, and trusted by the people.

Carrying the hopes of their villages, the trainees dared not slack off in the slightest.

During breakfast, Wang Jinliang leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, “Dr. Gao, people are saying you’re even better than Li Runyu, that you’re the best doctor in the entire county.”

Gao-Yuan shook his head and replied, “Don’t say things like that, and don’t compare us unnecessarily.”

“But it’s true,” Wang Jinliang insisted. “You’ve saved so many critically ill patients. That’s a fact. It’s clear you’re better than Li Runyu.”

“Treating even one critical case successfully is already a stroke of immense luck,” Gao-Yuan replied with a sigh.

“But you’ve never failed, have you?” Wang Jinliang countered, staring at him earnestly.

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Hearing this, Gao-Yuan fell silent, his expression clouding with memories.

“Dr. Gao! Dr. Gao-Yuan!” An urgent voice rang out from the entrance.

Gao-Yuan quickly set down his chopsticks and dashed outside, with Wang Jinliang following closely, still holding his bowl.

“What… what happened?” Gao-Yuan was alarmed to see it was the same family from before.

The child’s father, visibly panicked, stammered, “Dr. Gao, please, take a look! Hurry!”

“Quick! Bring the child in!” Gao-Yuan ordered, rushing to assist.

Wang Jinliang placed his bowl aside and jumped in to help. Together, they carried the child to the examination bed. One glance at the child’s condition left Gao-Yuan stunned—the boy’s face was ashen, he was gasping for breath, and he looked on the verge of collapse.

“This can’t be!” Gao-Yuan muttered in disbelief. “How did this happen? He was fine when he left—running, jumping, almost like a normal child.”

Looking up, he asked the adults, “What’s going on?”

The three were too panic-stricken to form coherent answers.

The mother, pale and feverish herself, trembled as she spoke. "It... it must have been the watermelon!”

“What?” Gao-Yuan froze.

The mother began pounding her head in remorse. “It’s my fault! All my fault! I fell ill, so they carried me to the clinic and told the boy to stay inside. We warned him repeatedly not to eat the watermelon. But when we got back, we found he’d eaten over half of it!”

She wept bitterly and blamed herself incessantly.

Gao-Yuan’s mind reeled. The child’s digestion hadn’t fully recovered; his stomach was still weak and needed careful nurturing. Even slightly cold food was off-limits, let alone half a watermelon.

In traditional Chinese medicine, watermelon is likened to Baihu Decoction—a natural, cold remedy for stomach heat. For a child with barely recovering digestion, consuming so much watermelon was devastating.

Examining the boy further, Gao-Yuan found persistent diarrhoea, a prolapsed rectum, and an inability to ingest any food since the previous day. He was drenched in sweat, his limbs icy, and his pulse scattered and weak.

The boy’s life was hanging by a thread.

“Light the stove! Prepare the medicine immediately!” Gao-Yuan barked orders, his voice taut with urgency.

The situation called for radical intervention: Ginseng, Aconite, Dragon Bone, and Cornelian Cherry to stabilise and revive his energy.

The parents and uncle stood aside, faces ashen and trembling. The mother’s fever worsened, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

The other doctors arrived and were shocked by the gravity of the case. Gao-Yuan directed Zhao Huanzhang to examine the mother, but she refused, clinging to her child and pleading for his life.

The first dose of medicine was prepared and administered quickly.

Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on the boy.

Typically, a single dose was enough under Gao-Yuan’s care, often stabilising even the direst cases. But this time, his face was grim.

The child showed no signs of improvement—his diarrhoea continued, and his limbs remained cold.

“Double the dosage!” Gao-Yuan commanded.

The second dose was prepared and administered, but it too failed to take effect.

With the boy’s condition worsening, Gao-Yuan clenched his teeth. “Again!”

Zhao Huanzhang hesitated, whispering, “His stomach energy is gone. Without stomach energy, there’s no life. It’s over.”

“Prepare another dose!” Gao-Yuan shouted, refusing to give up.

A third dose was administered, but the boy was now slipping into a coma.

Exhausted and defeated, Gao-Yuan slumped to the ground, leaning against a cabinet.

The father, desperate, pleaded, “Dr. Gao, more medicine! Please, don’t stop!”

Gao-Yuan exhaled deeply, shaking his head with profound sorrow. “It’s not the watermelon. I… I couldn’t save him.”

The room fell silent.

The father collapsed to the floor, wailing in grief. The mother fainted on the spot, and the uncle struck himself in self-reproach.

The air in the clinic was thick with despair.

Gao-Yuan stared blankly, the weight of his failure heavy in his heart. For the first time, he realised even his skills had their limits.