A Western Doctor's Happy Farming Life[1]

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Qingyin Village, kind of a name which revealed the peace and harmony.

At the entrance of the village there grew a huge tree which only could be measured by more than ten men hand-in-hand surrounded in a circle. The crown of the tree hung in the air just like a piece of green cloud, guarding quietly this tiny village.

Song Qinghan got out of the carriage while his eyes turned into the ones of coldness, and then he reached out to take over the bag from Yuan Wenxuan, whispering, “It’s your day today, alright?”

Even though Yuan Wenxuan had practiced himself in his mind conceiving of the scenario he would encounter and tried his best to calm down, he was still a bit nervous. After taking a few deep breaths, he nodded, answering, “Alright, let’s go in.”

Luo Haiyun was infected by the serious attitude of the two of them. He followed them silently while sizing up the surrounding environment himself.

They walked straight into the nearest house where a cold coffin was placed in the middle of the yard. The sun was scorching while it spread its sunlight onto the ground of the village everywhere, waves of putrid smell attacked three of them from all directions.

Yuan Wenxuan paused and realized that the person who lay in the coffin should be the one who died from the cold. He raised his head and took a glance inside, and then walked into the main room directly to greet the resident who was sobbing there.

“Uncle, we’re doctors from Huichun Shop, could you take your hand out and let me take the pulse?”

The crying man who was interrupted by the sudden inquiry wiped his face and scanned Yuan Wenxuan with his pair of swollen eyes. He sighed deeply when he found that all of the doctors were indeed a group of young people, but he still stretched his hand out obediently, and then he answered in a weak tone, “Does Huichun Shop become so snobbish now? You don’t even send us some sophisticated doctors now because we don’t have money? Alas, never mind, forgive me for saying that, I just, I just encountered so many things recently, my mind might be a bit messy now…”

Yuan Wenxuan was not affected by his dejected words. He frowned and took the man’s pulse seriously.

Seeing that Song Qinghan really didn’t intend to step in, Luo Haiyun thought for a moment and took the initiative to walk forward and ask about the man’s situation.

“Brother, do you still remember who was the first one got the disease in the very beginning? And how long have you been ill? Does there still exist someone who wasn’t infected?”

The reason why he asked the last question was because he was inspired by the small pox incident. That wasn’t a redundant question at all because no one at present knew whether the healthy ones would play the key role for this outbreak.

The man pondered for a moment, and then he answered weakly, “The first one… I remember that it is Old Chen who lives in the village end, and his son got the similar symptom in the ensuing course, and then it was the school, and finally the whole village was conquered. As for those who didn’t get ill, there indeed has some but rare… They had already escaped from this village and left.”

“As for me, I am not sure if it was my luck to get this disease so late or not. If I didn’t come back from the outside as soon as I heard the news, I wouldn’t get ill like now.”

Luo Haiyun nodded thoughtfully and continued to ask, “Excuse me, do you mind me asking whether the one who was placed in the coffin there died out of the disease?”

The man turned his sight outward. Just as he caught the sight of the coffin, he started to sob again while the tears were lingering around his eyes.