C12 A Young Doctor.

Hsiao Rann clearly didn't see the appeal of those two items for attracting girls. Instead, he saw them as the perfect excuse.

Hu Chuan suggested, "Let's grab some food. I've been here since early morning and haven't had breakfast yet."

"Go ahead without me. I need to get ready. I've got an interview later," Hsiao Rann declined once more.

Realizing Hsiao Rann had no intention of joining him, Hu Chuan departed from Hsiao Rann's place on his own.

Once Hu Chuan was gone, Hsiao Rann lost the drive to continue his practice and decided to head out, hoping to make some money with his medical expertise.

He gathered a stack of letterhead, a couple of pens, and stepped out the door.

Hsiao Rann had his sights set on Central Hospital, the city's hub for the ailing. He had no doubts about finding patients; his confidence in his medical prowess was unshakable.

After a trip to the market for a table, a foldable chair, a white cloth, a writing brush, and a bottle of ink, plus a bamboo pole, he was nearly set.

Arriving at the entrance of Central Hospital, Hsiao Rann set up his makeshift clinic. He inscribed on the white cloth his claim as a highly skilled doctor and hoisted it onto the bamboo pole. Setup complete.

He wasn't concerned about a lack of patients. He was sure that as soon as someone sought his treatment, all would be well.

Yet, the passersby gave the youthful Hsiao Rann little more than a fleeting glance before moving on. Unfazed, he waited patiently for someone to engage him, even if it was just to pick a bone.

Sure enough, someone took issue with his roadside practice and approached.

"Why are you setting up a stall here?" the man demanded icily.

It turned out to be a security guard from Central Hospital!

With feigned solemnity, Hsiao Rann responded, "I'm here to heal the sick!"

"Aren't you aware that setting up a stall here is prohibited? And don't use your medical expertise to swindle people. Treating patients is a serious matter of life and death. Reckless prescriptions could be fatal," the security guard said with a note of displeasure.

Actually, setting up a stall was permissible in this area. Hsiao Rann had learned that it was common for vendors to occupy the very spot he had chosen. However, given that it was a hospital, it seemed somewhat inappropriate. Clearly, Hsiao Rann's intention was to offer an alternative to the hospital's services.

At that moment, Hsiao Rann's attention was drawn to the piercing cries of a woman nearby. Clinging to her was a child, no more than three or four years old. The woman was clutching her hair in despair, her eyes swollen from weeping.

The child's father held him close, the boy's frailty indicating his illness.

Their attire suggested they were of meager means.

A doctor's harsh words cut through the air, "If you can't afford it, don't bother coming to the hospital. Do you really think we're running a charity here?"

Hsiao Rann bristled with anger at the remark. "Aren't doctors meant to heal the sick? What is this doctor actually doing?" he wondered.

The bystanders kept their distance from the child, as if his presence brought bad luck. The father, just steps outside the hospital, collapsed to his knees, weeping uncontrollably.

Powerless and penniless, he couldn't afford his child's medical care. He was the family's breadwinner, but what did that matter now? As his child's life ebbed away, his helplessness was overwhelming. He was just an ordinary man, impoverished and honest, earning barely enough from a month of grueling labor at a construction site to support his family.

And now, with his child gravely ill, was he to simply watch his young life slip away? The boy wasn't even four years old.

"Lay the child down," a voice suddenly instructed the distraught father.

Hsiao Rann had arrived just in time.

"Who are you? What do you intend to do with my child?" the woman asked Hsiao Rann, her gaze filled with suspicion.

"If you want your child to live, let them go now!" Hsiao Rann yelled. His voice drew a crowd, including the doctor who had earlier turned the couple away.

The doctor, surprised to see someone attempting a rescue, hesitated. It wasn't that the hospital was unwilling to help, but the couple had delayed too long. By the time the child arrived, they were deemed beyond saving.

"You're a doctor; you can see there's no hope for this child," the doctor said, having noticed Hsiao Rann's medical stall earlier.

"Just because the odds are against us, we should give up on a patient?" Hsiao Rann retorted, fixing the doctor with a fierce glare that left him shaken.

Without further attention to the onlookers, Hsiao Rann took the child from the middle-aged man and gently laid them on the ground.

A glance at the child's pallor was enough for Hsiao Rann to diagnose food poisoning. True, the delay had been significant, and the chances of recovery were slim.

But Hsiao Rann had a method to save the child.

"Get this medicine immediately," he commanded, pointing to the security guard with urgency.

The guard hesitated.

"Don't just stand there, move!" Hsiao Rann barked.

The guard snapped to action, taking the list and sprinting into the hospital. Hsiao Rann had prepared the remedy in advance, anticipating such emergencies.

Next, he turned to the doctor. "I need a decoction container and the full suite of equipment for preparing medicine, now!"

The doctor, momentarily taken aback, knew lives were at stake. With the crowd of onlookers now numbering in the hundreds, he ran after the guard into the hospital.

The hospital was equipped with everything Hsiao Rann required.

"Stop your crying. If you don't want to lose your child, do exactly as I tell you," Hsiao Rann instructed the middle-aged man.

The man quickly dried his tears, hope sparked by Hsiao Rann's composure. He understood there was no alternative; this young man was his child's last chance.

"Don't interrupt me, no matter what I do. If you want your child to survive, stay silent," Hsiao Rann commanded.

The middle-aged man nodded hastily in agreement.

Laying the child on the ground, Hsiao Rann began to methodically pat the child's body with his hands. Despite his controlled precision, the child's body was soon covered in bruises.

The child's mother was in agony. Had the middle-aged man not held her back, she might have thrown herself at Hsiao Rann to stop him.

Onlookers wore expressions of sympathy.

Hsiao Rann had managed to cultivate a trace of Fake Vital Energy. His harsh slaps, though they seemed cruel, were born of necessity. This was the only way he could channel some of the Fake Vital Energy into the child to stave off the poison.

Ultimately, pills were the only means of detoxification.

Hsiao Rann had painstakingly cultivated the Fake Vital Energy, and now, nearly half of it had been transferred into the child, buying precious time. Meanwhile, the necessary herbs and furnace had been procured.

He kept the child lying flat on the ground, cautioning everyone not to touch. Then, he gathered the herbs and set about preparing the antidote.

Given the circumstances, crafting a pill was out of the question. But the herbs Hsiao Rann had at hand were sufficient to concoct a detoxifying liquid.

As Hsiao Rann kindled a fire to begin the medicine-making process, he was consumed by the task. He intermittently checked on the child's condition.

After more than an hour, the medicinal liquid still fell short of Hsiao Rann's expectations. He had hoped to eliminate the poison in one go, but the concoction wasn't potent enough. He realized a single batch wouldn't suffice to cleanse the child's system of toxins. Nevertheless, he could produce additional batches of the medicinal liquid to purge the poison from the child's body.

Spectators watched Hsiao Rann's meticulous work, many having lingered for quite some time. Among the onlookers, several doctors arrived, including the one who had previously declared the child dead.

The doctor was astounded to see that the child had been rescued by the young man. Despite the child's dire state, he was clinging to life. And there was Hsiao Rann, tirelessly tending to the concoction of medicinal liquid.

Working solo, Hsiao Rann juggled tasks with remarkable dexterity. At times, he would simultaneously massage the child with one hand and fan the flames under the cauldron with a brochure he had scavenged from the street.

He was crafting a simple pill, yet it was far from ordinary medicine. Mastery over the flame's intensity was crucial.

At last, the potion was ready. Gazing upon the dark brew, Hsiao Rann let out a relieved breath. He transferred the liquid into a bowl and turned to the child's father with clear instructions, "Hold your child up straight. He's going to need to take this medicine soon."

The middle-aged man, unsure of the reason but trusting, complied with Hsiao Rann's directive. Following the treatment, the child's complexion lost its ghastly pallor.

"Find a bag," Hsiao Rann told the security guard, "or he'll end up vomiting on the floor, and you'll be the one cleaning it up."

With a sense of urgency, the security guard dashed off to carry out Hsiao Rann's command.