The blisters on Du Heng’s lips had subsided, leaving behind a patch of dry skin.
He wanted to peel it off, but the dry skin hadn’t completely separated from his lips. The slightest force would tear them and cause pain.
Feeling slightly lancholic, Du Heng touched his chin and looked at the drizzling rain outside the window, feeling oppressed.
It had been three days since the banquet, and the lousy weather alternated between sunny and rainy. The dreary weather mirrored the gloom in people’s hearts.
It had been raining intermittently for almost seven days now, sothing unprecedented in Jinzhou, a northwestern city.
Moreover, sothing he had warned Ma Zichen about had actually happened.
An earthen house belonging to a household on welfare benefits had indeed collapsed.
Luckily, it happened during the day, and the old man living there was not at ho.
Because it had rained for seven consecutive days, the old man had run out of dry hay for his sheep and had no choice but to brave the rain and take them out to graze.
If this had happened at night, or if the old man hadn’t been out, the consequences could have been dire.
Looking out the window, Du Heng didn’t know whether to be grateful for this incessant rain or to curse its persistence.
However, Du Heng still wanted to curse a bit.
Few people usually ca to the Health Clinic for treatnt, and now, there wasn’t a single patient.
Watching the clock on the wall approach quitting ti, Du Heng felt extrely uncomfortable; he hadn’t seen a single patient all day.
The 100,000 yuan reward was tantalizingly close, but the system’s tally of qualifying patients crawled forward at a snail’s pace, pushing Du Heng to the brink of a breakdown.
In the three days since returning from the banquet, only four qualifying cases had been added, one of whom was Yan Ting.
At a rate of just one case per day, Du Heng felt his composure wavering.
His current count stood at a frustrating 630 out of 3,000.
With only two days left in April, he hadn’t even reached 1,000 cases. He had no idea when this ordeal would end.
If he wanted to increase his case count quickly, Du Heng did not have many choices.
Offering house calls was completely unnecessary right now. To consider that again, he would have to wait until the end of the year at the earliest.
Securing a position at a Big Hospital was unacceptable to Du Heng, and besides, few such hospitals would hire a doctor from a small Health Clinic like him.
This left him with only two options: either resign and open his own clinic, or, by virtue of his official position, be transferred by a higher-level workplace.
But neither of those paths seed feasible to Du Heng.
To run a clinic, he needed a pathogen, which ant building a reputation. Without a reputation, no one would co to him for treatnt. However, without patients, building a reputation was an unattainable dream.
There were two ways to secure sufficient pathogen: the first was to have social recognition and notable qualifications. Given Du Heng’s current credentials—a doctor at a re Health Clinic—patients would likely walk away on the spot, never giving him a chance to demonstrate his abilities.
The second thod was to bide his ti, accumulating experience day by day, and eventually, his reputation would grow.
But nobody knew how long that would take.
If he only treated common ailnts like headaches and colds, which lacked persuasive power, it would be normal to toil away for two or three years.
And if he were lucky enough to encounter a major illness... well, patients with serious conditions wouldn’t co to a small clinic anyway. Best not to dwell on it.
The longer it took, the less financially viable it beca; the system’s monthly subsidy might not even cover the rent, making it a poor trade-off.
As for being transferred to a Big Hospital, that was purely up to fate.
Sigh, this is so hard!
But considering everything, resigning and opening his own clinic seed like the only truly viable path, Du Heng concluded. I need to find an opportunity to genuinely understand how a clinic operates and what its actual daily patient numbers are.
"Brother, guess what I got?"
Just as Du Heng was lost in these lancholy thoughts, Wu Buwei rushed in, excitedly waving a magazine-like publication in front of him.
Du Heng instantly recognized the na of the magazine—the one to which he had submitted his papers.
Could his paper have been published? Du Heng wondered, his heart leaping.
"Is my paper published?"
Wu Buwei was ecstatic, even more so than Du Heng, because he was listed as the second author on both papers. "The new issue was released yesterday!" he exclaid. "Both your papers are in it! I checked the website too; it’s already updated!"
Wu Buwei excitedly flipped to Du Heng’s articles and placed the publication in front of him.
"Combined Treatnt of Stroke Paralysis with Traditional Chinese Acupuncture, Decoction dicine, and Massage: 40 Cases"
"Classification, Treatnt, and Prevention of Various Pain Symptoms in Rural Areas"
Two papers in core Journals at once! It sounded like an exaggeration, but the quality was undeniably top-notch, packed with substance and absolutely no filler.
Was Du Heng excited? Of course, he was, and he felt like he was about to explode with excitent.
If Wu Buwei hadn’t been right there, practically vibrating with excitent, Du Heng would have leaped up and roared in triumph.
The papers had taken four days and nights to complete. After sending them to the email address Li Qingde had provided, Du Heng had also given Li Qingde an envelope—not a thick one, only about two fingers wide.
Although Li Qingde had given his assurance, Du Heng had proceeded with this gesture anyway.
His decision to do so ca after Wu Buwei consulted his own father.
Wu Buwei’s father was the Director of Pancreatic Surgery at the Second Hospital. He was thoroughly experienced in publishing papers—what kind to publish and how to go about it; he knew all the intricacies involved.
Initially, Du Heng suspected Li Qingde might be exaggerating his influence. However, after Wu Buwei consulted his father, Du Heng learned that even within academic journals, there was a pecking order for publishing, reviewing, and printing papers.
How this order was determined was a matter of ’different strokes for different folks’—suffice it to say, any thod one could imagine, they employed.
It wasn’t as if core Journals strictly adhered to rigid regulations.
After all, society runs on personal connections.
Ordinarily, soone like Du Heng, lacking connections and reputation, would be at the very bottom of the list. His papers would only be published if a slot happened to open up in an issue, and as for the timing, he could only expect the longest possible wait.
Thanks to the explanation from Wu Buwei’s father, Du Heng grasped the underlying chanics and chose to trust Li Qingde.
Considering that Wu Buwei was the second author, his father offered Du Heng so further advice.
Regarding the envelope: whether they accepted it was their business, but not offering it would have been Du Heng’s misstep.
Moreover, this gesture frad the interaction between Du Heng and Li Qingde as a fair exchange, rather than Du Heng being deeply indebted for a favor.
Thus, the publication of these two papers was not sothing Du Heng had achieved without any personal outlay.
While Du Heng sat there stunned, Wu Buwei pulled out his phone and hurriedly dialed his father. He was so thrilled that his fingers fumbled with the keypad several tis before he successfully placed the call.
How could he not be thrilled? Being the second author on two papers in core Journals! This effectively demolished the first major obstacle on his career advancent path.
If he were to apply for graduate studies now, presenting these two papers would ensure that the Chinese dicine professors at Jinzhou Traditional Chinese dicine University would view him in a highly favorable light.
Just then, Ma Zichen walked in, his forehead glistening with sweat. "Du, Dean Song’s office move is complete," he announced.
He finished speaking, but neither of the two in the office responded.
Puzzled, Ma Zichen then noticed Du Heng sitting dazedly behind his desk, while Wu Buwei was on the phone, his voice trembling with emotion.
When Ma Zichen overheard the content of Wu Buwei’s call, as an imminently graduating dical student, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock and envy.
He knew Du Heng had been writing papers, but he had no idea about their topics, where they were being submitted, or the submission tiline.
He’d heard sothing about it at the start of the month, but he never imagined that by month’s end, Du Heng’s papers would not only be accepted but also published—and in core Journals at that! The implications of this were astounding to him.
Seeing Du Heng still lost in a daze, Ma Zichen curiously reached for the publication lying in front of him.
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