Chapter 5

Salt water is here?

Wuzhou turned his head and saw a rough, large hand holding a wooden bowl up to him. The warrior's hands were full of calluses, and even though he had deliberately washed them, the deep black stains under his fingernails could not be cleaned. The black and yellow thumb was still hooked on the rim of the bowl, the nail deeply inserted into the water...

Wuzhou felt his stomach churn at just one glance. But in this broken place, to find something else to hold the saline solution...

Forget it!

In such a thatched-roof house, a wooden bucket dirty beyond recognition, apart from the wooden bowl, there was probably nothing else!

Wuzhou lowered his head and sipped the salt water, tasting it, feeling a river of sorrow welling up inside him.

In the wild without ready-made saline solution, it was just that tragic.

Boil water, mix with cold boiled water, and add salt. I even had to do the mental math on how much salt to add!

He tasted the concentration, felt the temperature, and thought the concentration might be a bit off, but the temperature was about right. As for the temperature being a half degree below 37 degrees and the saline concentration being off by 10%...

There was nothing he could do about it!

Add salt, add salt, add more salt. To be safe, Wuzhou had them add salt three times before he was satisfied with the concentration. Then, he directed these rough-handed men to clean the mouth of the water bag with strong liquor, lift it, and pour it in—

From the upper abdomen to the lower abdomen, bit by bit, carefully washing it. After the first wash, he gently held the intestines and continued to shout:

"Help lift him up! One person lifts the shoulders, one person lifts the feet, one person lifts the back!"

The red-haired archer supported the injured man's shoulders.

The young man who had been kneeling by the injured man, holding the intestines, lifted his two legs.

The little priest, who had been kneeling in a very twisted position opposite the injured man, pressing the brachial artery with one hand and the posterior tibial artery with the other, finally let go with Wuzhou's permission. After the surgery, examination, and cleaning, the bleeding on the injured man's left arm and left leg had basically stopped, and the little freckles' pressing work was over, now supporting the injured man's back.

"One, two, three, lift! Tilt him towards me!"

Splash, splash, splash, the saline solution poured out of the abdominal cavity.

Wuzhou continued to shed tears.

No suction, no drainage tube, nothing... Use a straw or a reed to suck and spit? Just thinking about those warriors' big yellow teeth and the possibility of spitting back into the abdominal cavity, Wuzhou decided it was better not to.

With no choice, he had to take the simplest, most brutal way: after washing the abdominal cavity, lift the person up and pour out the water.

After the water was mostly drained, Wuzhou carefully checked one last time. Fortunately, there was no bleeding, or in Wuzhou's professional terms—no active bleeding. He finally breathed a sigh of relief, straightened up a bit, and reached out his hand:

"Suture!"

...No one responded.

No forceps, no needle and thread, no smiling instrument nurse gently tapping the needle holder into his palm...

Wuzhou: "..."

T_T

He should have gotten used to it.

This was not a hospital, not an operating room. There was no first assistant, second assistant, instrument nurse, or circulating nurse to help. Shouting "suture" got no one who even understood what he meant...

"Give me the needle and thread!"

"Huh?... Oh!"

The little priest with freckles jumped up, rustled, and started to search his inner pocket.

Wuzhou's eyes lit up.

He had thought that even though the thatched-roof house was broken, it was still a home, and they should be able to find a needle and thread. Who knew this little freckles actually had a needle and thread? That was good, as priests were of a higher class and their tools should be better...

No, wait!

What kind of junk is this!

A sewing needle, no, the length and thickness were more like a needle for quilting!

And it was bent!

Bent!

Bent from sewing!

And this thread! This thread! Not asking for antibacterial sutures or barbed non-tie sutures, but this hemp thread, rough and uneven, what was this?

Forget it... Can't expect too much in a broken place...

Wuzhou tried to comfort himself, and with the fastest speed, he sutured the abdominal wall. As he sutured, the veins on his forehead throbbed: no absorbable sutures, no silk thread, only the coarsest hemp thread—using a sewing needle! Straight! Straight!

No needle holder, no curved needle, holding a sewing needle and poking it into the flesh, the feeling was truly known only to the one who did it...

He focused, patiently suturing layer by layer. Peritoneum, superficial fascia, skin and subcutaneous tissue... After meticulously completing the three layers of sutures and tying the last knot, he collapsed backward, lying on the ground, exhausted.

"Bandage him up..."

No one to help wipe the sweat.

Sad.

No one to help wipe the sweat during the surgery, but after the surgery, someone took care of him. As soon as Wuzhou lay down, five or six hands reached out to support him. The warriors who had been running around at his command, not daring to make a sound, now swarmed around him, chattering:

"Little Grete, you're amazing!"

"Little Grete, when did you learn this?"

"Little Grete..."

Wuzhou: ...???

His exhausted brain turned, and turned again, finally pumping a memory into his mind. Yes, they were calling him, his name was Grete, Grete Nordmark, a new recruit in the city guard...

Today, he was on patrol outside the city with the squad, escorting the priest—little freckles, named John—home to visit his family. The one he had just treated was their squad leader, Uncle Karen, who had always taken care of him.

When Uncle Karen was injured, kneeling and holding the intestines was his nephew Raymond, the spearman; the red-haired archer Thane; and the shield warrior Wally, who had been sent to boil water. Together, they made up the entire squad.

So... I've transmigrated?

Indeed, after working overtime in the emergency department, I finally became a corpse...

Sigh, I survived the residency, survived the attending, but I didn't expect to fall at the associate professor level!

Wuzhou silently wiped away a tear of bitterness. He looked around, at the gently rolling hills and green grass in the distance, at the thatched-roof houses with an ancient charm, at his teammates with high noses and deep-set eyes, and finally, lowered his eyes, mourning himself for a second, silently saying:

"From now on, I am Grete..."

Grete raised his gaze again and saw a row of warriors, and a priest, all staring at him intently. Clearly, everyone was surprised and curious about how he suddenly knew how to open up a belly and save someone.

Grete: "..."

How should I explain this?

Can I tell them that I have this skill from twelve years of primary and secondary education + seven years of undergraduate and graduate studies + over a decade of clinical work?

If I really said that, I would... be burned at the stake...?

There's a priest here who saw everything and can report back to the church, so there's no way to hide it!

Grete, trembling.jpg

Just as he was imagining the Inquisition and the stake, and about to imagine the ten most cruel tortures, a worried question interrupted his thoughts and saved him from the fire:

"Little Grete... Will the captain survive?"