We Must Surrender First

Of course, what the preface said is not important; what matters most is whether the paper itself deserves such praise. So a large group of interested readers eagerly turned to the following content.

In the subsequent paper, the author first thanks his mentor Joseph Bonaparte, for providing the ideas and guidance. He then discusses how to identify different bacteria using staining techniques, followed by the analysis and classification of samples obtained from wounds, blood, saliva, and feces from various patients. Next, he describes various animal experiments, and finally summarizes and looks ahead to the previous content. The paper concludes with the name of the first author, Carroll Oha, followed by the names of the corresponding authors, including Joseph Bonaparte and Antoine Lavoisier.

The paper's structure was not complex, but its content was exceptionally rich. If the Britain were to verify each of its contents, it would likely take them a considerable amount of time. However, upon seeing such a paper, members of the England News Alliance, and even the British Medical Guild, which was even more opposed to the France claims, realized that verification would certainly not yield the results they expected.

In fact, when "Young Master Chris" sent him that speculative article in the Lancet, Dean James was already seventy or eighty percent convinced of this deduction. The main reason he had previously vehemently opposed this view was not because he didn't believe it, but because it threatened the interests of the doctors' union.

Acknowledging this viewpoint would mean accepting that their hospitals and doctors are responsible for the deaths of patients who die in their hospitals. While this responsibility doesn't refer to legal liability—no one could imprison them or order them to pay compensation to the families of the deceased—the mere moral obligation would still tarnish their reputations.

Moreover, this loss is far more than just bearing "moral responsibility." Acknowledging the views expressed in the Lancet would mean admitting that Britain medicine lagged far behind that of continental Europe, which is not merely a matter of face, but also directly involves money.

Putting aside other things, the various certifications from the British Medical Guild will immediately become worthless, at least compared to France certifications, they will be practically worthless.

In the past, wealthy people, while not going to the hospital when sick, would often have doctors come to their homes to treat them. But what if they accepted the hypothesis in * the Lancet *, improved hospitals accordingly, and consequently achieved better treatment outcomes? How would those wealthy people feel?

Don't they realize that Britain has fallen far behind France in medicine? When they fall ill and need medical care, won't they prioritize France doctors, then doctors from continental Europe, then Britain doctors who have studied in France, and only lastly, native-born Britain doctors? And undoubtedly, the consultation fees will follow this order as well. Wouldn't this turn esteemed Britain doctors into nothing more than Gypsy witch doctors?

How can such a thing be tolerated? If this happens, who would be willing to spend money to get a medical certificate from the England Medical Association? So even if it means all the poor people in the hospital die, we absolutely cannot let this happen!

Therefore, Dean James immediately informed the England Medical Association of this matter and suggested that the association convene a meeting to discuss countermeasures. At this meeting, everyone unanimously agreed that the speculation in the Lancet was unfounded heresy, and any doctor who dared to follow its advice should be disqualified from practicing medicine.

However, all these efforts and all the resistance are now crushed like dung beetles blocking the wheels of a carriage in the face of this paper.

The England Medical Association wasn't worried about the poor people's reaction; most were illiterate and didn't have time to consider such matters. Besides, they were rather dim-witted, and fooling them wouldn't be difficult. However, the wealthy were a different story. They were very concerned about their health, willing to spend money on it, and, more importantly, possessed the knowledge and intellect to understand the paper and make judgments and choices truly in their best interests. And what they would choose—wasn't that obvious?

So when Dr. James saw the paper in the Lancet, he felt a chill run through him, his legs went weak, and he could barely stand. He slowly moved to the chair, carefully sat down, as if afraid that any sudden movement would break something.

Sitting in his chair, Dr. James tightened his coat, then, with a glimmer of hope, carefully read through the paper again. His heart was pounding so hard that his vision blurred, and he could barely make out the words on the magazine. After a long while, he finally managed to glean a single word from between the letters—the entire page was covered in one word. "Bankruptcy!"

Dr. James exclaimed in surprise and threw the Lancet to the floor with a thud, startling his assistant Ames, who rushed upstairs.

"Dr. James, what's wrong?" Ames' voice was filled with alarm.

"N-nothing... it's nothing..." Dr. James tried to stand up, but his legs had no strength. "I'm a little tired... could you pick up the book that fell on the floor for me..."

Ames noticed that Dr. James was pale, as if he were ill. He quickly picked up the copy of the Lancet.

"Don't look... just give it to me," Dr. James said.

Ames quickly placed the book on Dr. James's desk.

"Dr. James, you don't look well. Are you sick? Should I call a doctor for you?" Ames asked cautiously.

"No need, Ames. I'm a doctor myself, I know. Um, could you get me a glass of water?"

Ames then poured a glass of water and handed it to James. James took the water and drank it down in one gulp. The whole glass of hot water finally warmed him up a little.

"Ames, I need to rest here for a bit," Dr. James said.

"Alright, Dr. James, I'll be right outside. Just call me if you need anything," Ames said.

As Dr. James watched his assistant leave the study and carefully close the door, he couldn't help but think, "If he knew that soon my identity as a doctor and my status as a 'Councilor of the England Medical Association' would be worthless, would he still treat me like this?"

Ames went out. Dr. James rested for a while longer, then struggled to his feet. He knew this was a critical moment; they had to act immediately, or everything would be over.

He had just stood up when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"What's the matter?"

"Dr. James, Guild Master Edward has sent someone to request that you attend an emergency meeting at the guild immediately," came Ames's voice from outside the door.

"Okay, I'm coming," James said quickly.

When James arrived at the guild headquarters, he found that most of the council members were already there. They were all pale-faced, gritting their teeth and whispering something, their eyes filled with fear and hatred.

Soon, all the directors arrived. This was quite unusual. Generally, at each meeting, unless repeatedly notified in advance, at least one-third of the directors would not attend, and of the remaining directors, half would be at least half an hour late.

"Now that everyone is here, let's watch the meeting," said Dr. Edward, the chairman. "Everyone knows why we're having this meeting. The question now is, what should we do?"

"I think we should verify this first and see if there are any problems..." a voice said hesitantly.

"What do you think?" President Edward asked.

"Verification is certainly necessary. But I think we shouldn't have too high hopes for it," another director said. "A few days ago, I was asked by Chairman Edward to go to France and personally conduct investigations at some hospitals France."

"How is the situation?" many council members asked.

"Just like they say, their hospitals are much cleaner... and more importantly, their infection and mortality rates are much lower. So... don't get your hopes up too high about the verification. The France wouldn't publish something like this without verification."

"What do we do then?" someone asked in a panic.

"We must take action and find a way to get the police to ban the Lancet?"

"What nonsense are you spouting? The Whig Party are laughing their heads off. Even if you ban the Lancet now, it's too late. Doing so will only make more people know about this faster... This is... this is terrifying!"

One useless fellow even started wailing and crying.

One person started crying, and the others couldn't hold back any longer. Soon, more and more people joined in the weeping, filling the entire conference room with the sound of sobbing. It was as if this wasn't an ordinary meeting, but rather the attendees' own funeral service. Even Chairman Edward was almost moved to tears by the atmosphere.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," President Edward called out twice, but no one paid him any attention; everyone was busy making themselves cry.

"Bang! Bang!" Helpless, Chairman Edward had no choice but to pick up his cane and slam it hard on the table. "Stop crying! Stop crying! We called everyone here to find ways to minimize the losses, not to make you cry. If you want to cry, go back to your place!"

The crying gradually subsided.

"President, now it's up to you to make a decision," a director said, his voice trembling with tears.

"Yes, yes, you're the only one who can make a decision," more people said.

Edward sighed, his voice tinged with bitterness, "Very well, gentlemen, now that it's happened, and we've lost, let's not dwell too much on what's already lost. Let's first admit defeat and surrender to the France, and quickly. Just like in war, those who surrender first always receive some preferential treatment. The France, they should still need us..."