Visitor on a Snowy Night! Grant's Request!

The first snow of winter came earlier than in any previous year.

When Lan Tian opened the door that morning, a thin layer of white had already settled over the bluestone slabs outside. Snowflakes were still drifting down unhurriedly, landing on the eaves, the treetops, and the streets, covering all of Nuoding City in a clean, plain color.

He stood in the doorway and breathed out. White mist spread before him. Then he shrank back inside, added a thick cotton robe, and went out again to sweep the snow.

Few people came to see a doctor on snowy days. All morning, only two or three old men with frostbitten hands and feet came in. He warmed their meridians with Endless Life, and they went back home.

With nothing to do, Lan Tian sat by the stove warming his hands, just thinking that he would have to be careful not to slip when he went to the back courtyard to practice his boxing that afternoon, when the clinic door was pushed open and a gust of cold wind carrying snowflakes poured in.

The one who came in was Grant.

This old acquaintance did not have his usual hearty energy today. A layer of snow had fallen on his shoulders, and he had not even brushed it clean. After entering, he stood there rubbing his hands, his expression somewhat awkward, as if there was something he found hard to say.

Lan Tian understood a little just from the look of him. He stood up and pulled a chair over to the stove. "Come in and sit. Shake off the snow first. Whatever it is, take your time and tell me."

Grant took off his snow-damp outer robe and hung it by the door, then sat down on the chair. He accepted the cup of hot tea Lan Tian handed him and warmed his hands around it. After a moment of silence, he finally said, "Doctor Lan, I came today because there's something I'd like to ask your help with."

"Just say it. If I can help, I definitely will."

Grant nodded, his brows tightly furrowed. "It's actually not my own matter. It's my younger brother. His name is Gary, five years younger than me. He originally lived in that village north of Soul Hunting Forest and made a living by hunting and gathering herbs. Five days ago, he went into the mountains and didn't come back. The villagers searched for three days and finally found him at the foot of the mountain. He was alive, but..."

He stopped, his jaw clenching a little tighter. After taking two breaths to steady himself, he continued, "He was attacked by a spirit beast. There was a huge gash across his lower back. The villagers carried him back and found a doctor to stop the bleeding and bandage him, but the wound was too large, and with the cold weather and several days' delay, it's started to fester and suppurate. He's burning up and barely conscious. The village doctor said he can't treat it. If this drags on, I'm afraid he won't last many more days. I had no choice but to come find you. It's such a long road that there's really no way to carry him here, so I was thinking... could you make a house call?"

After he finished, he stared closely at Lan Tian, the anxiety and pleading in his eyes almost spilling over.

A tough man in his thirties, someone who usually killed spirit beasts in Soul Hunting Forest without even frowning, was now so nervous that his fingers were clenched tight around his knees.

After listening, Lan Tian did not hesitate for long. He stood up directly and went to pack his medical kit. "Where is your brother? Is it far?"

"In Shuanglin Village. Go out the north gate and head north for thirty li. At a normal walking pace, it takes most of the day."

Grant stood up as well and hurriedly added, "The road is hard to travel, and it's snowing too. Riding will be faster. I've already prepared the horses. They're tied up outside."

"Wait for me a moment."

Lan Tian packed his medical kit neatly. Surgical knife, sutures, hemostatic powder, anesthetic powder, bandages—nothing was missing. He also added a flask of hot water and a few pieces of dry rations.

After thinking for a moment, he took a bottle of mind-clearing, energy-rousing pills he had prepared himself from the cabinet and tucked it into his robe, just in case he needed them on the road.

Once everything was ready, he walked to the door, put on a thick cloak, and waved to Grant. "Let's go."

Grant froze for a moment, clearly not expecting him to agree so readily, setting out directly without even asking about the consultation fee.

His lips moved, but in the end he only said, "Doctor Lan, I owe you a great favor."

"You helped me before. It's only right that I help you once." Lan Tian mounted his horse and tugged on the reins.

The two left through the north gate and followed the official road north.

The road was slippery in the snow. The horses' hooves rustled as they stepped over the thin layer of white, and the wind blew in from the side, carrying fine snow grains that struck their faces cold and sharp.

Grant led the way ahead and spoke very little. Lan Tian did not ask much either. He only paid attention from horseback to the terrain and road conditions along the way, silently committing this route to the north to memory.

After traveling for about three two-hour periods, the sky had already begun to dim slightly. Ahead, a small village appeared at the foot of the mountain. Twenty or thirty households were scattered sparsely over the gentle slope, and the snow on their rooftops had been melted into a thin layer by cooking smoke.

Grant dismounted at the village entrance and strode toward a wooden house at the easternmost end. He pushed open the door and shouted, "Gary! I brought the doctor!"

Lan Tian followed him inside.

The house was not large. The fire in the stove was burning strong, and warmth rushed over them.

The room was filled with a sour stench of rotting wound mixed with the smell of herbs. On the wooden bed beside the stove lay a man around thirty years old. His face was thin, his lips cracked, and his face was flushed red from fever. His eyes were half-open and unfocused. The quilt covered him up to the chest, while the bandages exposed at his waist had already been soaked yellow-brown by seeping pus.

Grant's mother stood up from beside the stove, wiping her hands again and again on her apron as she came forward anxiously. "Doctor, please look at our Gary quickly. He's been burning with fever this whole time, and we can't even get water into him..."

Lan Tian quickly walked to the bedside, unwrapped the bandages, and looked at the wound. His brows creased slightly.

The wound extended from the left side of the waist and ribs all the way to beside the spine, deep enough to reveal bone. Although it had not injured the internal organs, large areas of skin and muscle had been torn and necrotic. The edges of the wound were black and purple, and pus mixed with blood kept seeping out. The skin in a circle around it was red and swollen.

More importantly, too much time had passed. The infection had already spread from the local area to the whole body. With the persistent high fever and dehydration, if this dragged on any longer, it really would cost him his life.

He turned around, quickly opened his medical kit, and laid out the tools and medicines he needed. As he prepared, he said, "Grant, come hold your brother's hands down. Don't let him move. Auntie, please boil a pot of water, let it cool until warm, and bring it over. I'll also need some clean cloth."

Grant's mother answered and hurried off to work. Grant went to the head of the bed and held down Gary's shoulders.

Lan Tian first fed Gary some water mixed with anesthetic powder, then placed cloth pieces soaked in Numb-Bone Vine juice on the skin around the wound.

Once the medicine took effect and Gary had fallen completely unconscious, he began debriding the wound.

All the necrotic tissue had to be removed cleanly. The pus had to be thoroughly drained. Every bit of infected rotten flesh had to be cut away without leaving anything behind.

This step took the most time and tested the skill of the hand the most. Cut too much with one stroke, and it would damage healthy tissue. Cut too little, and the wound would not be cleaned properly, only to flare up again later.

The hand with which he held the surgical knife was exceptionally steady. Stroke by stroke, he precisely cleaned the wound surface, pausing from time to time to rinse the wound with warm water dipped in cloth, then switching to clean cloth to absorb the washed-out filth.

Grant watched from the side until sweat broke out on his forehead, not even daring to take a loud breath.