Cannon Fodder in an Era Drama — I Survive with Acting

Chapter 217: Divine Skill

Old Liu rushed over to Song Qingya in a few strides.

He pointed a finger straight at Qi Yuanyuan, who had just regained her footing.

"Dean Song! It was her! And Yang Meiling!"

"They locked me in the storage room! The door was locked from the outside, and no one answered when I knocked! They didn’t give me a bite of food or even a drop of water to drink!"

"They... they even accused me of stealing! They framed me! But I didn’t take anything!"

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, his face flushing red.

Song Qingya immediately raised a hand.

"Old Liu. Dean Yuan just lay down to rest. His condition is still unstable, so we must be quiet."

After speaking, she cast a cool glance toward the doorway, where Qi Yuanyuan hadn’t yet gone far.

’Now is not the time to cause a scene.’

The hospital staff was already on edge, and Dean Yuan was critically ill and unconscious.

Any small disturbance could trigger greater chaos.

Old Liu met her gaze, and his heart skipped a beat.

The burning rage he felt just a moment ago was instantly doused.

He froze in place, his lips moving, but ultimately, he made no further sound.

His anger receded like a tide, replaced by rational vigilance.

He immediately realized he couldn’t say these things in front of so many people.

Publicly accusing a colleague here, even if he was in the right, would just turn into a farce.

Besides, what was going on behind the scenes was likely more than a simple misunderstanding.

If he rashly revealed the whole truth, his accusers would likely turn the tables on him.

So he shut his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

But he hadn’t completely given in. He shot a vicious glare at Qi Yuanyuan.

Qi Yuanyuan felt her skin crawl under his stare, and she flinched.

Not daring to linger, she lowered her head, wrung the hem of her white coat with her hands, and scurried away.

The ward finally fell quiet.

The sound of footsteps outside faded into the distance.

The air seemed to become lighter again as the oppressive atmosphere eased slightly.

Song Qingya walked to the bedside with steady steps.

She lowered her head to carefully examine Dean Yuan’s condition.

Although his condition had temporarily stabilized, the root problem remained.

The toxin was still latent in his body, spreading. If not cleared out soon, it could trigger organ failure at any moment.

’Time is short. I have to act now, without a second’s delay.’

She turned and looked at Old Liu, who was standing to the side.

"Old Liu."

Song Qingya’s voice was still calm.

Old Liu tensed up, his heart suddenly accelerating. He quickly straightened his back, put his feet together, and dared not let his eyes wander.

"Dean Yuan needs immediate treatment."

Song Qingya looked at him.

"The situation is critical. The risk is too great for me to handle alone. I need an assistant."

She needed a helper, and right now, Old Liu was the only one she could count on.

The others either lacked the experience or their loyalties were unclear.

Only Old Liu had served in a military medical unit for a few years.

Although he had later retired due to psychological trauma, his fundamental skills were still there. More importantly, he had always held deep respect for Dean Yuan and wouldn’t mess up at such a critical moment.

"You will assist me."

After she spoke, her gaze fell upon Old Liu’s face.

Old Liu was stunned for a moment. His pupils contracted sharply, and then a sudden warmth spread through his chest.

’Dean Song trusts me!’

At a time when everyone was keeping their distance and watching from the sidelines, she had chosen him.

An "idler" who had been marginalized for years, who wasn’t even regularly on the duty roster.

This trust moved him more than any award could.

’It’s true my condition is unstable, and I still wake up from nightmares sometimes.’

’But it’s not like I haven’t seen real action back in the day.’

’I carried the wounded off the battlefield, performed first aid under fire—didn’t I risk my life every single time?’

’Now, to be able to help Dean Song, to do my part for Old President Yuan... it would be worth it, even if I have to give my life!’

"Yes! Dean Song, just give the order. I’ll do whatever you say!"

Old Liu patted his chest, his voice loud and clear.

Song Qingya nodded. A flicker of approval crossed her brow, but her expression remained stern.

She just used her eyes to signal him to bring her backpack over.

It was a dark gray canvas bag, resting on a chair in the corner.

"There’s a box in the bag. Hand me the longest case of silver needles."

As she spoke, she quickly prepared the other items.

She rolled up Dean Yuan’s sleeve, dipped a cotton ball in alcohol, and took out a moxa stick and matches.

Old Liu rummaged earnestly through a pile of small boxes.

The boxes were of different sizes and colors; some had numbers written on them, while others had labels.

He opened them one by one, careful not to grab the wrong one.

Finally, at the very bottom, he felt a long, narrow metal case engraved with the four small words, "Nine-Inch Long Needles."

He immediately presented the box with both hands.

Song Qingya took the box and gently opened it.

Twelve long, thin silver needles lay neatly arranged in black velvet grooves.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, briefly composing herself.

When she opened them again, her eyes were filled with determination.

She raised her hand and inserted the needle with a swift, clean motion.

The first needle entered the Quchi point, precise and accurate, its tail vibrating slightly.

Old Liu stood beside them, not even daring to breathe loudly.

He stared intently at Song Qingya’s hands, afraid of missing a single detail.

Time passed, second by second, each one feeling incredibly long.

Tiny beads of sweat gradually formed on Song Qingya’s temples.

Her fingertips turned slightly pale, but they remained as steady as a rock, without the slightest tremor.

The last needle went in slowly. With a gentle twist, the tip rotated halfway beneath the skin, making a very faint *click*.

Almost at that very instant, the wrinkles on Dean Yuan’s forehead slowly smoothed out. He had been grimacing, his face ashen.

Song Qingya slowly stood up, her legs a bit numb from standing for so long.

She gently rotated her ankles, then raised her hand and wiped the sweat from her temples with the back of her clean hand.

"It’s under control for now."

Old Liu had been standing nervously by the bed, his eyes glued to the changes in Dean Yuan’s complexion.

Now, seeing his face go from ghastly pale to a healthy red and his breathing return to normal, Old Liu was so moved his eyes welled up.

"Dean Song! Your skill... it’s incredible!"

"I’ve heard that acupuncture can treat illnesses, but I’ve never seen it work so fast! That technique of yours is practically a Divine Skill!"

Song Qingya just smiled faintly.

She looked down and began to tidy the needles scattered on the tray, carefully returning them one by one to a sealed case.

"We’ll have to keep observing him. The condition is stable, but the root cause hasn’t been eliminated."

"Tomorrow, we’ll have to do a more intensive treatment, combined with medicinal conditioning, to have a chance at completely resolving the blockage."

She looked up at Old Liu, her gaze softening slightly.

"Old Liu, thank you for your hard work today, for standing guard and handing me my tools."

Hearing this, Old Liu quickly waved his hands and shook his head, a simple, honest smile spreading across his face.

"Not at all! I’m not tired in the slightest! Being able to help puts my heart at ease! Besides, Dean Yuan is the pillar of our hospital. If anything were to happen to him, the whole hospital would descend into chaos! Being able to watch you save him with my own eyes... this feels sweeter than honey!"

「Meanwhile, at a street corner outside the hospital entrance.」

The night was thick, and the dim yellow streetlights cast mottled patterns of light and shadow.

A figure came running.