A Western Doctor's Happy Farming Life[1]

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Song Qinghan was utterly stunned and then he nodded, saying, “I did hear clearly about what you just said, who do you want me to check out?”

“My medical skill isn’t that kind of profound, it might be out of my capacity to make a right diagnosis…” added Song Qinghan after another round of ponder.

A trace of displeasure flashed across Sir Xian’s eyes but he still waved his hand, motioning the servant to bring out the patient who had long fallen into a comma and put him onto the bed.

Song Qinghan rolled up his sleeves, approached and checked out the man’s eyelids. He pressed down from the man’s head and paused when he pressed the man’s stomach. Then, he continued to press the man’s body in calmness. After he finished pressing the man’s body, he thought for a while and then moved a little and faced to Yuan Wenxuan, saying, “Come over here, take his pulse.”

Yuan Wenxuan did not have much experience in such operation, yet he now was quite experienced on taking pulse. He was already capable of taking the place of the doctors in duty when he was in the Huichun Shop in provincial capital, and he did take the initiative to take the patients’ pulses that time.

The shopkeeper stood aside with his both arms folded across in front of his chest, trying to make fun of this group of people. But when he took a glance at Sir Xian, he found himself was stared fiercely by a pair of sharp eyes. With guilt in mind, he quickly put down his arms and put on an expression of solemnity.

Actually, he shouldn’t be blamed by just making fun and staring at Song Qinghan in a queer way, but the action of Song Qinghan was a bit eccentric in the stereo concept of medical treatment. He did not take a pulse at first but just touched all over on the man’s body. It wasn’t that much of queerness because the patient who was lying on bed now was a femina man either. If he were a man, probably such an action would be much profane to the decency of etiquette.

What’s more, how came a doctor did not take a pulse himself but ask his disciple to do so? Was he trying to show off and prove that he actually got a profounder medical skill and the action of taking pulse would be nothing needed?

Yuan Wenxuan didn’t seem to be affected by the surrounding environment at all. After around ten minutes, he put down the man’s wrist, tidied up the stuff he brought, turned his head and said seriously to Song Qinghan, “Master, he gets a heavier pulse than normal ones, I think he might get a heat in stomach.”

Hearing that, Sir Xian again raised his heavy and drooping eyelids. In his eyes, a trace of unknown and complicated emotion could be seen, it was kind of admiration, or kind of pitifulness.

Song Qinghan nodded and said calmly, “There is a lump in his stomach but there is no food retention in his intestines. So it can be inferred that the lump was evolved by the tiny ulcer in his stomach, but not that it is caused by the abnormal food intake.”

“The preliminary judgment is that there is a tendency to stomach cancer.”

Yuan Wenxuan was totally shocked by Song Qinghan’s conclusion as his mouth wide open and eyes paused its movement of blinking. He asked with surprise, “A cancer? Isn’t it a terminal disease?”

Song Qinghan sighed and shook his head, “Well, not that kind of terminal, but due to the short supply of precise equipment and insufficient condition here, it will be hard for us to cure him.”

As soon as Song Qinghan finished the last bit of his words, the shopkeeper burst into laugher his own before Sir Xian spoke, he approached and replied proudly and confidently, “Hey, little brother, you might have gotten something truly wrong, though various and diverse medical mansions are boosting here in the state capital, when it comes to the condition, we’re much confident to claim that no other mansion is better than us. So, if the Huichun shop doesn’t have idea to cure this guy, then no one can make it!”