The voices of doubt and accusation in the room boiled like water over a flame—buzzing and chaotic.
Every gaze was fixed on Su Wanning by the kang. But she acted as if she hadn’t heard or seen a thing, not wasting a single second on rebuttal—she was a surgeon, and she knew better than anyone that at this moment, every second counted in a fight against death. Arguing would be the most useless thing in the world.
Her eyes were calm, almost coldly composed, and she turned past the chaotic crowd, locking precisely on Lu Zhanxiao: “Lu Zhanxiao, hold him still!”
Lu Zhanxiao met her gaze—a pair of bright, unwavering eyes, full of confidence, unshaken by all the chaos and despair in the room. Without hesitation, he pushed aside those in his way and strode to the kang.
“What are you going to do?” Aunt Zhang’s son, Huzi’s father, instinctively tried to stop him.
“Let her try,” Lu Zhanxiao said simply, then extended his hands to firmly hold the child’s tiny shoulders and legs on the kang. His action was solid support.
With Lu Zhanxiao’s help, Su Wanning immediately sprang into action. She placed her small cloth bag on the edge of the kang, opened it with a “clatter,” revealing a row of silver needles of varying lengths, glinting coldly. The sight made everyone’s hearts tighten.
“She… she’s going to use needles on the child?” someone whispered in fear.
“Oh my God! The child is already gone, and she’s going to do this?”
The gasps from the crowd were uncontrollable. Old Sun, the village doctor, bristled with anger, his mustache standing on end. He was about to step forward and stop her when Su Wanning’s next moves froze him in place.
With her hand, she picked up the thinnest silver needle, her wrist flicking so fast it left a blur. The needle gleamed and had already pierced the child’s Renzhong point. Without a pause, she followed with a second and third needle, her technique so rapid it was dizzying, yet each one was steady, precise, and strong.
The calm professionalism was completely at odds with her youthful face. Everyone present was stunned—this was no leisurely acupuncture session as they had imagined; it was a life-and-death battle against time.
But the most incomprehensible part came next. After placing needles in key points, Su Wanning bent over, one hand holding the child’s jaw, the other pinching his nose, and in the eyes of the horrified crowd, took a deep breath and breathed into the child’s darkened mouth.
“Boom!”
It felt like thunder had struck inside everyone’s brains.
“What… what is she doing?!”
“Crazy! What is that even?”
Li Cuifen seized the moment like a weapon, shrieking: “Shameless! She’s kissing a dead child! This is blasphemy! Witchcraft! Pull her away! Don’t let her harm him!”
In that era, men and women rarely touched each other. Even touching a child this way was enough for people to consider her mad or a demon. But Su Wanning ignored it all, repeating the rescue breaths with the rhythm of a professional responding to a critical emergency.
Then she interlaced her hands over the child’s tiny chest, pressing rhythmically—one, two, three… The villagers couldn’t comprehend it. To them, this beautiful city girl looked no different than a shaman performing a ritual, strange and unnerving.
Minutes ticked by, each second heavy with tension. The only sounds were the muffled thumps of Su Wanning compressing the chest and her slightly hurried breathing. The room held its collective breath; every voice of doubt, every curse, vanished. All eyes were locked on the still child and the strange, decisive actions of Su Wanning—waiting for a miracle or a farce.
Sweat beaded on Su Wanning’s forehead, but she didn’t stop. One minute… two minutes… Even Old Sun began to think she was completely insane, ready to step forward and forcibly stop her, when suddenly—
“Wah—”
A faint, almost ethereal cry erupted from the child’s throat. Hoarse, as if blocked for a long time, yet unmistakably alive!
The room went utterly silent. Then, to everyone’s astonished eyes, the child’s tightly shut eyes fluttered open. His chest rose and fell slightly; his bluish-purple face slowly regained a hint of life, a flush of red. He cried again, louder than before: “Wah-ah—”
Alive! Truly alive!
The stunned silence shattered within seconds, replaced by an uproar of amazement: “Oh my God! He’s crying! The child is crying!” “Alive! Doctor Sun said he couldn’t be saved, but she brought him back!” “Miracle! She’s like a divine healer!”
Aunt Zhang’s family had gone from hell to heaven. Their minds blank, they stared at their crying grandson on the kang, then burst into tears of joy: “Huzi! My Huzi! You’re alive!” Meanwhile, Li Cuifen turned pale, staring at Su Wanning, now surrounded by awe and reverence, burning with shame. The girl she had mocked as a useless, fragile porcelain doll had become a living savior in an instant.
Su Wanning slowly stood, wiping sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, letting out a long breath. The intense emergency had drained her physically and mentally. Her voice was slightly hoarse as she carefully removed the silver needles from the child and instructed Aunt Zhang: “Don’t give him hard food for a while; give him warm water. If he convulses or foams at the mouth again, call me immediately.”
Only then did she lift her clear eyes, calmly meeting Li Cuifen’s gaze. She said nothing, yet that composed glance conveyed far more shame than any insult. Li Cuifen quickly lowered her head, too embarrassed to meet her eyes again.
Chen Xiulian, standing at the edge of the crowd, had witnessed everything clearly. When Huzi cried for the first time, her heart felt as if it had been gripped by an invisible hand and then released. The shock left her reeling.
She stared at this person who remained calm despite the accusations—the delicate body Li Cuifen had mocked as “fragile as a gust of wind” contained unimaginable power. Not a pampered city girl, but a prodigiously capable, extraordinary woman. Chen Xiulian felt her worldview and understanding of reality shatter and rebuild in that instant.
That night, Chen Xiulian couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning on the kang, her mind replayed Su Wanning saving the child—her calm, her confidence, and her incomprehensible, miraculous “divine” methods left her unsettled, eyes wide open through the long night.
It wasn’t until the darkest hour before dawn that she finally drifted into a restless, vivid nightmare. In it, she saw scenes of her previous life: her third son’s fiancée arriving, forcing her out, refusing the marriage; then Zhanxiao’s leg injury worsened, leaving him disabled, living a wasted life for over a decade before dying early; the first and second sons squandered the family fortune; her beloved children and grandchildren, in her old age and frailty, abandoned her to a decrepit rural house, where she died alone without anyone to see her off… The despair and regret felt like icy waves drowning her completely.
“No—!”
Chen Xiulian screamed, jolting upright on the kang, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat, clothes clinging to her, piercingly cold.
Outside, the sky was dimly brightening. The first rays of morning light slanted through the window lattice, casting narrow beams onto the floor. She slowly lifted her hands—they were rough from years of labor, yet strong, unlike the shriveled, spotted hands of her nightmare.
She… she had returned? She had been reborn!
Chen Xiulian’s eyes first reflected bewilderment, then that bewilderment was replaced by remorse, fear, and overwhelming joy! Heaven had granted her another chance. This time, she vowed not to make mistakes—she would treat her third son well, see him married, and live a good life.