Chapter 4

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The Tartar, are you going to draw my blood...

The noble and beautiful Countess Isabelle de Nave stood there with her mouth open, staring blankly at the Tartar in front of her, her big eyes twinkling as if she was about to cry again.

Just now, this Tartar, who seemed to be a doctor, had used a sewing needle taken from the maid Lucy to prick her finger and take a drop of her blood—supposedly to determine her blood type. Although she didn't understand what it meant, the countess still let him prick her with the needle. Well, the countess wasn't really afraid of pain and even found it quite interesting.

However, after the Tartar doctor fiddled with a microscope (borrowed from Dr. Blumstein) and several glass slides, using blood samples from a few people in the house—including the Tartar doctor himself, Isabelle, Dr. Blumstein, Will Heming, the fat man, and three servants—he announced that his blood type matched the fat man's, so he was going to draw his own blood! He even brought out a large glass cup to hold the blood...

"Tartar, can't you use my blood?" Will Heming stood up in front of Isabelle, rolling up his sleeve like a man and showing his strong muscles.

"No, using the wrong blood type could kill the fat man." After patiently explaining blood transfusion and blood types, Zhu Jishi assured Isabelle that drawing a small amount of blood wouldn't harm her health.

"Tartar, do you mean that human blood has several special types?" The old doctor Blumstein, who had never heard such a theory before, asked, "Who proposed this theory? Why haven't I heard of it?"

"This theory... this theory is actually summarized by me!" Zhu Jishi originally wanted to credit Karl Landsteiner, but then he thought it was 1842, and the Austrian medical scientist was probably not even born yet. So he decided to claim this Nobel Prize-level discovery as his own.

"You summarized it? Will it work?" Dr. Blumstein looked at Zhu Jishi with suspicion.

"Will it work or not, we'll know once we try, right?" Zhu Jishi pointed to the fat man tied to the table, who was groaning. "If you don't want him to die, do as I say."

Both Dr. Blumstein and Will Heming looked at Isabelle. The countess hesitated for a moment, then looked at Zhu Jishi with a resentful gaze and extended her arm. "Tartar, transfuse my blood to Robert!"

Zhu Jishi looked at the countess's expression and saw that the old doctor and the young man who had caused the trouble were both skeptical. He thought to himself, "Saving this fat man is probably my first test after mysteriously arriving in 1842. If I can save him, this fat man named Churchill and this beautiful countess just need to give me a little help, and I can easily establish myself in 1842 Europe. As for the future, I'll just have to take it one step at a time."

The blood-drawing process went smoothly, despite Zhu Jishi's heavy-handedness and the frighteningly thick needle (the metalworking technology of this era could only produce such thick needles). However, the countess gritted her teeth and let Zhu Jishi prick her twice, drawing 400 cc of blood, and she didn't even cry, which made Zhu Jishi look at her with new respect.

"Tartar, will this really work?" Dr. Blumstein, holding the glass cup filled with blood, felt like he was a cult member, and the fat man tied to the table seemed like a sacrificial offering.

"The transfusion should be fine. Follow my instructions and use the syringe to draw the blood from the cup and inject it into Mr. Churchill's vein." Although Zhu Jishi spoke confidently, he was also worried. He had used the same syringe for both drawing and transfusing blood, and he hadn't even changed the needle! Who knew if there might be some infectious disease transmitted through the blood?

"What about the surgery? Are you really confident?" Dr. Blumstein asked hesitantly. He was already prepared to be dismissed from the British Army. As the senior military doctor of the Royal Guard Cavalry Brigade where the fat man was the adjutant, he had been dragged here by the fat man to be a witness for a duel. But this wasn't the Middle Ages, and dueling was illegal. Being a witness was also illegal, and if Mr. Churchill died, he would probably have to resign immediately to save face.

"Dr. Blumstein, Dr. Tartar, the scalpel, hemostat, and suturing needle are ready." The maid Lucy, a red-haired English girl, brought a tray of surgical tools. She was quite clever and had prepared the tools as Zhu Jishi had instructed, boiling the scalpel, hemostat, and the needle for suturing the abdomen, and then wiping them with iodine and alcohol several times.

Zhu Jishi opened Ye Yiren's backpack and glanced at the German edition of the "Surgery" textbook inside. Honestly, he had a strong urge to read it before operating on the fat man. But he resisted, knowing the value of this book in this era! If he could establish himself in Britain, he could copy a few articles from it and send them to the *Lancet* (the most authoritative medical journal of the time), and he might even become known as a "divine doctor from the East"! So he couldn't expose the book now. As for the surgery on the fat man, it shouldn't be a problem. He had studied anatomy and forensic medicine, so opening a wound to remove a lead bullet should be fine!

After some mental preparation, Zhu Jishi was no longer nervous. He opened the medicine box in his backpack, took out a pack of absorbable sutures and a pair of disposable rubber gloves. Seeing Zhu Jishi put on the gloves, Dr. Blumstein whispered, "These gloves are quite unique. What are they made of?"

"Rubber." Zhu Jishi mentioned the term, then realized that vulcanized rubber might not have been invented yet! He would have to register a patent for it when he had the chance, as it might bring in some money.

"Rubber?" Dr. Blumstein shook his head, clearly not knowing that rubber could be used for gloves besides erasing pencil marks.

Zhu Jishi ignored him and took a surgical needle from Lucy, which was not much different from a sewing needle, and threaded it with absorbable sutures. He then took another sewing needle and threaded it with silk thread provided by Dr. Blumstein as a backup. Finally, he took a shiny scalpel and approached the fat man.

"Tartar, are you really confident you can save Robert?" Seeing the fat man, who had pursued her for a long time and given her many gifts, about to be cut, the countess's tears fell like broken pearls.

"I am confident! But please don't call me Tartar anymore. I have a name, I am called... Jason." Zhu Jishi didn't dare to use his Chinese name and instead used his English name. The name "Jason," which was as ordinary as could be, was destined to spread throughout Europe in this era. However, at this moment, Zhu Jishi could never have imagined that he would soon have a very intimidating nickname—Jack the Ripper!

"Ugh..." The fat man grunted when he heard "confident."

"Don't worry, Mr. Churchill. Since God has brought us together, you won't die!" This statement was somewhat reasonable. Historically, this Churchill would have certainly not survived this incident, but after Zhu Jishi's arrival and encountering the severely injured fat man, it was clearly a fated encounter. How could he let the fat man die?