Chen Jue felt a surge of anger rising within him as he observed Zhou Qingshan's expression.
As a doctor, he was accustomed to death, but that did not mean he was indifferent to it. Even without witnessing the death toll firsthand, he knew exactly what the situation was like. Mountains of corpses piled upon one another—hell itself could not be more gruesome.
Sending ordinary civilians to the battlefield was no different from delivering them to their deaths. Or perhaps this was the so-called strategy devised by those generals—sacrificing these frontline soldiers to make way for other arrangements.
When these people were deployed to the front lines, no one ever expected them to survive.
Witnessing so many deaths would leave anyone with lasting trauma.
Although Chen Jue was not a psychologist, he had studied psychology and was familiar with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Seeing Zhou Qingshan still trapped in his memories, Chen Jue stepped forward and patted his shoulder a few times. With his other hand, he pinched the tiger's mouth area between Zhou Qingshan's thumb and index finger, applying firm pressure. Only then did Zhou Qingshan seem to snap out of it, his trembling hands finally lowering.
His eyes finally focused on Chen Jue, and they immediately reddened.
He wailed, pounding his chest: "Ger Jue, Dashan is dead, Dashan is gone! He died right before my eyes. So many people piled on top of him, layer after layer. Those who cleaned up the battlefield said they couldn’t find him… they couldn’t find him… he’s lost forever. I’ve failed him…"
His cries were heart-wrenching, filled with a grief that moved even those who witnessed it.
Chen Jue opened his mouth slightly, wanting to say something, but realized he had no right to speak. He was neither the original owner of this body nor did he know Huo Lin.
Though he felt the weight of the situation, he did not share the same depth of pain.
In that moment, a strange thought even crossed his mind: that Huo Lin was supposed to die—or, to put it another way, he was never meant to appear in the first place.
If this was a scenario created by heaven to punish him, then none of the NPCs close to him would survive.
It had to align with his original orphan setting.
If this world was all an illusion, why should he grieve?
He stood there unmoved, appearing utterly indifferent.
In his previous life, many had accused him of lacking empathy, saying he was unfit to be a doctor.
Perhaps they were right.
At this moment, he did not feel overwhelming sorrow.
In his ears, Uncle Liu muttered in disbelief: "How could this be? How could it be going to war? I thought it was digging canals. I thought Dashan had broken his leg and was sent back first… I thought Dashan would definitely return after finishing the canal work…"
Zhou Qingshan was lost in his own agony: "I saw him die with my own eyes… right before me… I couldn’t bring him back…"
Chen Jue remained silent, neither comforting Zhou Qingshan nor stopping him from venting his grief.
Uncle Liu slapped his own thigh a few times before noticing Zhou Qingshan repeatedly pounding his chest. He looked at him with regret and said, "No wonder you haven’t mentioned Dashan at all these past few days, keeping everything bottled up inside. I thought you were just upset about your injured leg. Who knew you were hiding something like this… How could you keep such a huge matter from me!"
"You… how am I supposed to face your father after I die? Dashan’s father was your father’s lifesaver!"
Uncle Liu pounded the edge of the kang, making a loud thumping sound: "…How do you expect Ger Jue to live? How can he survive alone with an unborn child…"
Couldn't he survive alone with the child?
But seeing the grief on their faces, Chen Jue said nothing.
The loud cries of Uncle Liu and Zhou Qingshan startled Qingzhu and Nannan outside.
After the two entered the room and learned of Huo Lin's death, they too began wiping away tears.
Chen Jue remained like an onlooker.
While wiping her tears, Zhou Qingzhu looked at his icy, expressionless face and suddenly embraced him. She believed Chen Jue was overwhelmed with grief—so heartbroken that he couldn't even cry. Look at him now, stiff as a board, letting her hold him.
Thinking this, Zhou Qingzhu patted his back and said, "Brother Chen, I know you're suffering. Go ahead and cry. Let it out, and you'll feel better."
Uncle Liu seemed to snap out of it as well, quickly comforting Chen Jue and holding his hand: "That's right, don't be afraid. From now on, Uncle will be your family. Qingshan and Qingzhu are your own brothers and sister. They'll help you with anything…"
Chen Jue hadn't expected Zhou Qingzhu to embrace him so suddenly, and it left him somewhat stiff. He was gay.
Although Zhou Qingzhu was currently a fifteen-year-old boy, he was still male. Holding him felt a bit like holding a girl.
He wanted to break free but ultimately didn't move. This family made him start missing Dean Chen, Director Zhou, and the Buddhist head nurse.
Uncle Liu's family wept bitterly for Huo Lin once more,
while Chen Jue stood silently like a wooden pillar, watching.
But deep down, he was moved.
It seemed this family truly had a deep bond with Huo Lin's family.
Chen Jue now understood that the care he had received from them these past few days was due to his connection with the Huo family. From the fact that only Uncle Liu's family had visited him in recent days, with no one else coming, it appeared the Huo family didn't interact much with outsiders.
Perhaps because they were outsiders, they weren't well-liked.
And of course, things would only get worse from here, because with his personality, it could only deteriorate further.
Chen Jue thought calmly, fully aware of himself.
After Zhou Qingshan finished his bout of weeping, Chen Jue glanced at him and sensed he was in better spirits.
The collision of post-traumatic stress disorder and the death of a comrade had, in a way, offset some of the post-war fear with the guilt of surviving alone.
And now, with this outpouring of grief, some of that guilt had been released. Over time, he would eventually move on.
Time was the irreplaceable cure for everything.
He too would move on one day.
Chen Jue thought.
"Uncle, I should head back now."
This visit was originally to check on Zhou Qingshan, but instead, he had learned of Huo Lin's death.
Although Zhou Qingshan said the soldiers hadn't found Huo Lin's body, it was highly likely he was dead.
In this era of cold weapons, Chen Jue had never experienced the brutality of war, but he could imagine it. With real swords and spears and extremely limited medical knowledge, the chances of surviving an injury were far too low.
Many soldiers died not on the battlefield but from delayed rescue and fatal infections.
The reason Zhou Qingshan survived was that his leg had been cleanly severed by a single slash. Immediately after, he clutched his leg and rolled away, not only achieving the first step of stopping the bleeding but also avoiding the trampling crowd.
He was truly fortunate—the blade was sharp, causing less pain, minimal bleeding, gleaming without rust, and low risk of infection. The injury occurred in the relatively cold northern region, reducing the chance of wound deterioration. After the battle, he received timely medical treatment, and thanks to his years of hunting, his physical fitness was excellent, which allowed him to survive.
However, Huo Lin’s condition was far more severe. After being struck by a large blade, he collapsed immediately. Without any medical attention, he was trampled and crushed by so many people.
If Huo Lin was indeed as severely injured as Zhou Qingshan had witnessed, he would not have survived.
Chen Jue let out a faint sigh. He had no connection to Huo Lin, so hearing the news of his death did not bring him the same grief as the Zhou family.
Of course, he felt no joy or relief either.
Although he had no desire to deal with Huo Lin and considered his return a troublesome matter—not only complicating the annulment of the engagement but also the fight for child custody—he never wished for Huo Lin’s death or hoped he would never return.
Though Chen Jue had little capacity for empathy, he possessed a basic sense of conscience. Those troubles could never compare to a human life.
Even without conscience, he had medical ethics.
The medical creed:
Saving lives and aiding the injured means battling step by step against death in the most difficult circumstances, reclaiming lives from its grasp.
These were words Dean Chen had repeated countless times, and Chen Jue knew them by heart.
Lost in thought, Chen Jue walked back step by step.
Zhou Qingzhu, who had followed him out, assumed he was still grieving and didn’t know how to comfort him. He trailed behind silently until Chen Jue turned and said, “Go back and look after the child. I’ll visit when I have time. I’m going to the mountains to gather some herbs for your elder brother.”
Zhou Qingzhu was taken aback. “Herbs for my elder brother?”
How had he moved past the sorrow so quickly? Not only did he not blame his elder brother, but he was also gathering herbs for him?
Chen Jue offered no explanation, simply nodding. “I’ll return once I’ve prepared the medicine.”
Zhou Qingzhu stared at his retreating figure, feeling somewhat bewildered. Something seemed off—Chen Jue seemed like a different person. Was it due to overwhelming grief?
Under Zhou Qingzhu’s sympathetic gaze, Chen Jue returned to his small courtyard at the foot of the mountain.
Once home, Chen Jue retrieved a chopping knife from the woodshed and sharpened it on a whetstone until it gleamed brightly. He preferred knives that were sharp and shimmered like silver.
After sharpening the knife, he slung a basket hanging on the wall over his shoulder and headed into the mountains. It was the fourth month of the lunar calendar, a time when food supplies were dwindling, but wild vegetables were still plentiful. However, Chen Jue had no interest in wild vegetables. Earlier, he had identified a vegetable garden where the original owner had planted plenty of greens. What he sought now were staple foods, nutritious meats, fish, and other high-protein sources.
It might be difficult, but he would search. If he couldn’t find any, he would earn silver to buy them.
The foothills were abundant with medicinal herbs—plantain, dandelion, ubiquitous puffballs, goosegrass, and creeping euphorbia lined the paths. Chen Jue paid them no mind, heading straight into the mountains.
This first trip into the mountains was primarily to scout routes, with gathering food as a secondary goal.
He wanted to find a path where he could collect herbs that would fetch a good price.
He was now nearly three months into his pregnancy, and it had stabilized. Given that he had fallen into the river, hit his head, and lost consciousness without any signs of miscarriage, the child seemed quite resilient. Aside from malnutrition leading to low blood sugar, the original owner’s overall health was fairly good—a result of years of gathering herbs in the mountains.
Chen Jue took a deep breath in the mountains, propped his foot on a rock, and bent down to tie his hemp trousers securely. The cloth shoes on his feet were still decent—perhaps the original owner often ventured into the mountains, so they were made quite sturdy.
Although the fetus was stable now, by the seventh or eighth month, when his belly grew large, it would be inconvenient for him to go up the mountain. Moreover, in another five months, the weather would turn cold, and it wouldn’t be wise for him to run around just for a bite to eat.
After that would come childbirth. For at least three months after giving birth, he wouldn’t be able to go up the mountain—he certainly couldn’t carry a child while digging for herbs.
Besides, he still couldn’t gauge the condition of the child. Without the advanced technology of modern times, he couldn’t determine whether this child was healthy. If this child, like Jiang Xinhe’s, had a congenital heart condition, then… it would be difficult.
Chen Jue lowered his head and looked at his belly. He couldn’t curse the child inside.
Nor could he continue with idealism.
He had to do everything possible to ensure this child was born safely and raised well.
Author’s Note:
None