Chapter 12: Unable to Wash One's Hands of It

Inside the supply and marketing cooperative, many members crowded in to purchase various items. The chatter of voices mingled with the clicking of abacus beads, filling the air with a rich sense of everyday life.

A peculiar, indescribable scent hung in the air—a blend of kerosene, soap, fabric, and assorted sundries, bearing the unmistakable mark of the era.

The counters were tall and worn, the paint chipped and peeling. Behind them stood several sales clerks dressed in blue or gray work uniforms, their expressions mostly indifferent, tinged with a characteristic reserve and detachment of the time.

All the goods, whether bolts of cloth, needles and threads, or oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, iron pots, and earthenware basins, were neatly stacked on shelves behind the clerks or locked inside glass cabinets.

To buy anything, one had to explain their needs across the counter, and only then would the clerk retrieve the items.

Jiang Xiaoman was clearly familiar with this routine. She tugged Zhou Yichen along and deftly squeezed through to a slightly less crowded counter, beginning their grand shopping spree.

Pots, bowls, pans, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar—anything they could think of, they bought.

After all, they would be living in the countryside for several years; everything needed had to be properly prepared.

Zhou Yichen also purchased some useful items like gauze and cotton swabs—essentials for treating illnesses.

Before long, they emerged from the cooperative laden with bags.

Zhou Yichen took on most of the weight, two large cloth bags heavy on his shoulders, a new iron pot in one hand.

Jiang Xiaoman carried bottles and jars of oil, salt, vinegar, and some miscellaneous items, sharing the burden.

They hadn’t walked far when Jiang Xiaoman began to falter.

“Yichen, I can’t go on… Let’s… rest a bit…” she panted, pleading.

Zhou Yichen looked back at her, nearly exhausted, then glanced at the sky and nodded.

“All right. There’s a crooked willow tree ahead. Let’s rest there for a while before continuing.”

As they neared the crooked willow, a sudden clamor rose from a nearby fork in the road.

“Sounds like something’s happening up ahead. Let’s go see,” Zhou Yichen said, turning his head.

“Yeah, I heard it too.” Jiang Xiaoman perked up. She loved nothing more than watching a commotion.

They exchanged a glance, both curious.

“Let’s go!” Jiang Xiaoman could hardly contain herself and strode forward.

Zhou Yichen nodded and quickened his pace toward the fork where the noise came from.

Rounding a dirt embankment, the scene before them caused both to pause in slight surprise.

Four or five villagers clustered together, faces anxious and hands wringing, discussing something in a flurry of worry.

“What are we going to do?”

“Hurry, call someone!”

“Call who? Maybe the commune hospital! It’s closer!”

Pushing forward, Zhou Yichen and Jiang Xiaoman approached.

In the center of the group, a man of about sixty squatted on the ground, clutching his chest tightly. Veins bulged on his forehead, beads of sweat rolled down, his face pale as paper, lips tinged purple.

Nearby lay an empty cart, its harness removed, while the draft animal nervously pawed at the ground.

“Could it be… a sudden illness?” Zhou Yichen’s heart skipped.

Judging by the symptoms, it was almost certainly an acute attack.

He had no time to think further and quickly set down the cloth bags and iron pot.

“Everyone, make way! Make way! I’m a health worker!” Zhou Yichen shouted.

At once, the villagers fell silent and parted to clear a path.

In later times, he might have hesitated to intervene—a heavy responsibility—but now, in the 1970s, among these simple country folk and as a newly appointed health worker, his help was needed.

Zhou Yichen hurried to the man and knelt beside him.

“Sir, where does it hurt?” he asked solemnly, his eyes scanning the man’s face and the clutching hands.

“Ouch… my chest… it hurts terribly…” the old man gritted his teeth, gasping for breath.

A middle-aged man nearby explained anxiously, “Old Zhang was driving the cart when he suddenly clutched his chest and fell off!”

A woman added fretfully, “It’s his old ailment acting up! It’s hurt like this before, but never this bad!”

Zhou Yichen frowned deeply.

Chest pain, difficulty breathing, pale face, cold sweat—

These symptoms resembled angina.

In an era short on medical resources, any delay could be disastrous.

He composed himself and instructed the crowd: “Help me lift him onto the cart. Let him lie half-reclined, head higher than feet.”

“Okay! Okay!” the villagers responded, carefully assisting the man into position as directed.

Zhou Yichen took a deep breath and began feeling around the man’s ear.

Without a stethoscope or nitroglycerin, all he could do was basic first aid.

He recalled the emergency acupressure points from the Barefoot Doctor’s Manual.

“Found them! The heart region and Shenmen point…”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pressed these points with steady, rhythmic pressure, gradually increasing intensity.

Jiang Xiaoman watched anxiously, clutching her hands tightly, barely daring to breathe.

The villagers held their breath, eyes fixed on Zhou Yichen’s every move. The silence was profound.

Time ticked by.

After about a minute, the old man’s furrowed brow relaxed slightly, his rapid breathing eased a bit, and his moans softened.

Zhou Yichen continued the pressing without pause.

Two minutes later, Old Zhang sighed deeply. Color slowly returned to his pale face.

“Ah… much better… the pain’s not so sharp…” he said weakly, opening his eyes. His voice was hoarse but noticeably smoother.

“Really not hurting anymore?” a villager asked with relief.

Old Zhang nodded slowly. “Yes, it’s easing, though I still feel a bit stuffed up.”

“Amazing! Truly amazing!” someone exclaimed.

“This young man is really skilled for his age!” an auntie praised.

“Just a few presses on the ear, and he’s better?” another man gaped in disbelief.

The villagers murmured in wonder, their eyes full of respect and astonishment.

This young fellow really had some talent!

Zhou Yichen released his hands, secretly relieved, wiping sweat from his brow.

He said to Old Zhang, “Sir, your chest pain is a recurring problem. What I did was acupressure to temporarily relieve your pain, but it’s only symptomatic treatment.”

“You really should go to the commune hospital for a proper diagnosis and medication, to treat it thoroughly.”

Old Zhang immediately shook his head vehemently.

“No, no! I’m fine now! Why spend so much at the hospital? I won’t go—won’t waste that money!”

“I’m okay, really! Thank you, young man! If it weren’t for you today, I’d be in real trouble!” Old Zhang struggled to sit up.

Zhou Yichen sighed. “Sir, this isn’t about money. Your condition remains. Without proper treatment, it will recur and could get worse.”

But Old Zhang was stubborn and refused to listen, convinced he was cured.

At that moment, an onlooker stepped forward.

“Old Zhang, your stubbornness! The young man said he’s just a health worker!”

“If you’re worried about money, just have him treat you! Why go to the commune?”

This comment seemed to sway the crowd.

“That’s right! The young man’s skills are impressive—we saw it ourselves! He’s the one to see!”

“Exactly! There’s a doctor right here; no need to go anywhere else!”

The villagers chimed in, urging Old Zhang to accept treatment from Zhou Yichen.

Old Zhang’s eyes brightened. “Young man, no, doctor—so from now on, I should come to you for my illness?”

Hearing this, Zhou Yichen felt a surge of helplessness.

He smiled wryly, somewhat embarrassed.

“Sir, friends, you flatter me too much.”

“My skills are just enough for common colds, minor injuries, and simple ailments.”

“For problems like chest pain, it’s complicated. I can only provide emergency relief. To truly cure it, you need to go to a proper hospital and see an experienced doctor.”

Though he spoke honestly, the villagers were reluctant to believe him.

To them, saving a man from such agony made him a miracle worker.

“You’re too modest, young man! We saw it with our own eyes—the way you made the pain vanish!”

“Exactly! You’re far better than those at the commune health center! Old Zhang, listen to us—go to this young man from now on!”