The first attempt at combining Chinese and Western medicine had failed.

Even Wang Hanzhang began to feel uneasy. Were it not for his trust in Gao-Yuan, he might have voiced his doubts already.

The others, who were reluctant about integrating Chinese and Western medicine in the first place, now shook their heads even more resolutely.

Dr. Qiao Zheng glanced at Gao-Yuan. Frankly, he preferred working with Gao-Yuan alone.

Counting all the people present, the only one genuinely determined to advance the integration of Chinese and Western medicine was Gao-Yuan.

When Gao-Yuan turned to look at the crowd, their various expressions weighed on him. The setback before they had even begun felt like a heavy blow. The resources available in the city far surpassed those in their county. If the city’s effort at integration had failed, what hope did they have here?

“Let’s go and check on the child first,” Gao-Yuan said, following Qiao Zheng to the ward.

Inside, the grandparents, along with the maternal and paternal relatives, had all gathered.

Seeing Dr. Gao-Yuan finally arrive, they pleaded with him fervently. For any family, a child is the most precious treasure.

“Don’t worry,” Gao-Yuan reassured them. “I will do my utmost. Please step aside so I can examine the child.”

The family quickly moved out of the way. Gao-Yuan stepped forward to diagnose, with Qiao Zheng by his side. Other doctors observed from behind, while Li Runyu hesitated briefly before moving up to assist Gao-Yuan.

Qiao Zheng began, “The child has had a high fever for eight days, accompanied by diarrhoea—more than ten watery episodes a day, greenish in colour. Over the past four days, bowel movements have decreased to three or four times daily, with a sticky, greenish appearance. Appetite is poor, and vomiting curdled milk occasionally occurs. The child is lethargic, coughing, and wheezing, but urination is normal.”

Li Runyu asked, “Dr. Qiao, what Chinese medicine prescriptions were used earlier?”

“Well…” Qiao Zheng, unfamiliar with Chinese medicine prescriptions, handed over the medical records to Li Runyu. “It’s all written here.”

After reviewing the records, Li Runyu said to Gao-Yuan, “They used Mahuang-Xingren-Shigao-Gancao Decoction and Maimendong Decoction.”

Gao-Yuan nodded slightly. He patted the child’s shoulder gently and called a few times, but there was no response; the child’s eyes remained tightly shut.

“The child is already in a deep coma,” Dr. Qiao stated gravely.

The other Chinese doctors froze at the diagnosis. As expected, cases from the city hospital were truly severe.

Hearing this, the family members became even more anxious and began to weep.

Hu Xingyan quickly tried to comfort his sister. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Dr. Gao-Yuan is here.”

Hu Xingke, her face pale with fear, nodded repeatedly.

Gao-Yuan continued examining the child. He touched the child’s skin—hot with a high fever but lacking sweat. Breathing was rapid and laboured, with severe phlegm congestion. The child’s complexion was ashen, the abdomen distended, and the lips parched.

He opened the child’s mouth and observed the tongue, noting its red colour, dryness, and a thin, white coating. He pressed on the child's fingertip to check the fingerprint—a diagnosis method in children—and saw that the veins were swollen, dark, and extended to the third section, or “life gate,” a critical sign.

The seasoned Chinese doctors behind him gasped. Fingerprint diagnosis dividing into wind, qi, and life gates signifies escalating severity. When the fingerprint reaches the life gate, it indicates life-threatening danger. If it extends beyond that, it’s a dire emergency.

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Gao-Yuan’s brows furrowed at the sight, his breathing heavier. He picked up the child’s small hand and felt the pulse. The left pulse was deep and rapid, while the right was floating and large.

Dr. Qiao spoke with equal gravity. “The child is at risk of respiratory failure, with obstructive breathing patterns, significant lung consolidation, abdominal distension, and early signs of paralytic ileus.”

Wang Hanzhang swallowed hard, glancing between Gao-Yuan and Qiao Zheng. They had planned to use this case as an example of integrated treatment, but given the situation, the stakes were incredibly high. If they failed to save the child, advocating for Chinese-Western integration in the future would become even harder.

Understanding the significance of this case, Gao-Yuan felt immense pressure. After briefly organizing his treatment approach, he asked the assembled specialists, “Would any of you like to step forward and make a diagnosis?”

None of the department heads moved. They had heard and seen the same diagnostic information and didn’t believe they could offer any new insights.

“Then,” Gao-Yuan pressed on, “who among you can save this child?”

The family members looked nervously at the group of doctors.

The physicians hesitated, their expressions awkward. Given the severity of the situation, no one dared take responsibility. They all turned to look at Li Runyu, the county’s leading expert in Chinese medicine.

Even Li Runyu frowned deeply, looking troubled.

If even he hesitated, the others were even less likely to act.

Understanding the family's desperation, Gao-Yuan addressed Li Runyu directly: “Dr. Li, what is your assessment?”

Li Runyu’s brows were tightly knit. “To be honest, this case is extremely severe. I…”

Normally, Li Runyu would have declined outright, as he never took on patients with less than a 60% chance of survival. This child had at best a 20-30% chance, making it a case he’d usually refuse. But with Gao-Yuan present, he found it difficult to say so directly.

“What makes treating this case so difficult?” Gao-Yuan asked.

“The primary challenge,” Li Runyu replied, “is the progression of the illness. With the fingerprint reaching the life gate, the child is critically ill. The major hurdles are respiratory failure, excessive phlegm, intestinal obstruction, and, most fundamentally, severe pneumonia. Addressing all these issues simultaneously during such a critical stage is nearly impossible. Trying to save the child could lead to a domino effect, where resolving one issue exacerbates another. That’s why I’ve been hesitant to proceed.”

The other department heads nodded in agreement.

Miao Ran, standing nearby, chimed in sarcastically, “Didn’t you all claim to be so capable? Can’t this be resolved with oxygen therapy, artificial respiration, regular phlegm suction, and retained enemas?”

Her remark instantly annoyed the Chinese medicine practitioners.

“If it’s so easy, why didn’t you Western doctors cure the patient yourselves?”

“If you think you don’t need us, go ahead and treat the patient alone. Let’s see how well you do.”

Miao Ran’s confrontational tone sparked yet another round of arguments.

Both sides were equally uncertain. Even the city hospital had failed to manage the case; what hope did they have? Both groups were hesitant, and neither wanted to take the risk.

The family watched in dismay.

Gao-Yuan turned to Li Runyu again. “If Western medicine handles oxygenation, phlegm suction, and enemas, leaving you to focus solely on one issue, how confident would you feel about saving the child?”

The room fell silent.

Li Runyu’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t considered that. If the major complications could be managed by Western measures, allowing him to focus on treating pneumonia, the survival rate could rise from 20-30% to 40-50%, making the case worth attempting.

He looked at Gao-Yuan with newfound respect.

The other department heads exchanged glances, realization dawning.

Gao-Yuan turned to Dr. Qiao Zheng. “If you rely solely on oxygen therapy, phlegm suction, and antibiotics, can you save the child?”

Qiao Zheng shook his head slightly.

Miao Ran’s earlier boldness now seemed misplaced.

Addressing the group, Gao-Yuan declared, “This is precisely why I advocate for integrating Chinese and Western medicine. In severe cases like this, neither approach alone is sufficient. Only by working together can we maximize our chances of saving lives.”

“Children are the future of our nation and the hope of every family. While you argue and compete, who will save the patient? Who will save this child?”

His words struck a chord. The doctors couldn’t meet his gaze, feeling a pang of guilt.

Shen Congyun stood outside the door, listening. He didn’t need to step inside to recognize Gao-Yuan’s commanding presence and rhetorical skill.

Gao-Yuan surveyed the room, his voice resolute. “For these children, for these desperate parents, for these families on the brink of collapse—we, as doctors, are their last hope!”

The family members, their eyes brimming with tears, looked at the doctors with desperate, pleading gazes.

Gao-Yuan turned to Qiao Zheng and extended his hand. “Let’s begin our collaboration with this child. Together, we can give them hope.”

Qiao Zheng clasped his hand firmly. “Yes!”

Wang Hanzhang watched, deeply moved. It was a good thing Gao-Yuan’s political record was flawed; otherwise, even his position as director might not be safe.

At the doorway stood Su Pingchuan, the decorated war hero, silently observing the scene. Unable to contain himself, he began to applaud. Gao-Yuan’s words, delivered with unwavering conviction and clarity, had struck a chord. "That doctor’s tongue," Su thought with a hint of awe, "is more powerful than a pair of howitzers."