This was probably another benefit of Qingyuan’s recovery. Deep within her soul, Jiang Chan could use many techniques. Unfortunately, in this age of spiritual decline, however capable she was in the Mission Hall, she remained an ordinary person outside.
Recording in the book consumed mental strength. After barely two cases, dizziness forced her to withdraw.
Rubbing her head, she acknowledged the strain, though it was much better than before. Initially, she managed only two or three lines. Two complete cases were a major improvement.
Once somewhat recovered, she stood to stretch. It was March or April, still chilly outdoors. Sitting so long had left her cold.
After only a few steps, a commotion rose from the court, accompanied by frightened male voices, including some classmates.
She stopped. Had something happened? Touching the gold needle around her wrist, she turned and ran toward them.
If something was wrong, she could help.
“Chang Ke! Chang Ke, wake up!”
“What happened? He’d only just touched the ball before collapsing.”
“Who knows? Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Yes, but it’ll take twenty minutes. Look how purple his face is…”
Reaching the crowd’s edge, Jiang Chan’s expression changed at those words. She forcefully pushed the boys blocking her aside.
At the center lay a thin boy she did not recognize, barely breathing.
The PE teacher knelt administering first aid, having learned some techniques. Sweat covered him. If something serious happened, he could not escape responsibility.
A boy suddenly shoved aside felt ready to swear, but closed his mouth upon seeing Jiang Chan.
She was the darling of teachers and students alike. Insult her now, and his homeroom teacher would summon him afterward.
Forcing her way through, she reached the center. Seeing the teacher performing CPR, she unwound her gold needle and quickly disinfected it with an alcohol swab from her needle kit.
“That isn’t working. Can’t you see he’s barely breathing? Stop and let me try. I’ve studied medicine.”
The sweating teacher brightened at her words, only to deflate upon seeing who spoke.
She looked far too young. How could he trust her? Seeing him continue, she said, “You can’t keep doing that. His heartbeat is almost gone.”
He ignored her. Anxious for the boy’s life, she was about to push him aside when he suddenly sank back. “His heart has stopped.”
The students erupted. Taking the boy’s wrist with one hand and feeling his neck with the other, she said urgently, “It’s alright. There’s still a little life. Everyone move back. There’s too little air here.”
They retreated several meters, clearing a large space. The teacher slumped nearby, dejected. Watching a life slip away was painful.
She had no time for his feelings. Without changing expression, she quickly opened the boy’s clothes, exposing his chest.
Her fingers searched for the acupoints. Then she straightened the gold needle and flicked it. The soft needle instantly became rigid, giving a faint hum.
Everything had fallen silent. They had already gaped when she opened his clothing. This technique widened their eyes further.
Was this legendary Chinese medicine? Did it use such long needles? Holding the needle in one hand, she pressed the other against his chest.
Before everyone, it entered his body, sinking until only about two centimeters remained outside. They were stunned. Wasn’t it about a chi long? It looked capable of passing straight through him.
Nor was she finished. Sweat appeared on her forehead and trickled down, but she had no hand free to wipe it.
Holding the needle, she clenched her other hand and tapped his chest and abdomen, producing muffled sounds. After five or six minutes, his chest seemed to rise slightly.
“Look, his heartbeat’s back!”
“It really is! Incredible!”
“How can she bring someone back after their heart stops?”
“Where’s the ambulance? Why isn’t it here?”
Feeling the heartbeat beneath her palm, she smiled slightly and flicked the needle’s top. It trembled gently, then faster.
Her fingers withdrew. The spectators watched the needle slowly emerge by itself. Without witnessing it, they would have thought this a fantasy film.
“Look! Chang Ke’s awake!” The crowd noticed the instant his eyes opened and shouted.
Coughing softly, he sat up dazedly, oblivious to the long gold needle still protruding from his chest. Seeing everyone stare as though at a ghost, he scratched his head.
“Why are you looking at me? What happened?”
A close friend pointed shakily at his chest. He looked down and froze. “Holy crap! Who stuck a needle in me? I… I faint at needles!”
Seeing him sway with half-closed eyes, Jiang Chan took the needle. “With this much energy, you seem to be back. The ambulance is almost here. Have a thorough examination at the hospital.”
He looked innocent. “I’m fine. Why go to hospital?”
She wound the needle around her wrist. “That’s for a doctor to decide. Your pulse tells me today wasn’t a coincidence. If you’re ill, seek treatment early.”
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