Chapter Twenty-Five: Return to the City

Li Yancheng was right—when the village children heard a car entering, they were utterly thrilled, shouting and running alongside the vehicle; some even ran right in front of it. However, he was mistaken about one thing: the adults saw all this but didn’t intervene at all.

Old Duan, sitting in the passenger seat, watched the scene unfold, sweat pouring down his forehead. He was inwardly grateful that Da Cheng was driving for him; otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared to move at all. The short distance of less than two miles took nearly twenty minutes to traverse before finally turning onto the main road of the town.

At that point, Li Yancheng stopped and explained the route ahead to Old Duan before getting out of the car. It was just past ten in the morning. By nearly four in the afternoon, Old Duan and his wife, accompanied by their daughter Xiao Juan, returned once more to the clinic.

This time, Old Duan had gone all out for his daughter. Although the job at the Grain and Oil Department was promised, it still needed official stamping. When he came today, he brought along a blank work introduction letter already stamped by the street office. Frankly, if anyone discovered this forgery, he would undoubtedly face disciplinary action.

They didn’t stay long before leaving—the sky would darken by five, and with Old Duan’s dreadful driving skills, they might not get home until who knows when.

“Yancheng, your neighbor is really bold. He’s falsifying documents like this and isn’t even afraid someone might check back on him,” Zhou said.

“Brother Zhou, you don’t understand. That couple dotes on their little girl terribly. This morning, when they heard her crying on the phone, begging to come home immediately, they panicked. They couldn’t think of anything else. It’s already impressive they remembered to bring the introduction letter. I’d bet if they’d forgotten, they’d have just taken her away by force. As for any punishment? They never even considered it,” Li Yancheng replied.

After the family left, only Li Yancheng and Zhou Guotao remained in the consultation room. Zhou was quite critical of Old Duan abusing his privileges. People aren’t always righteous or fair; sometimes, resentment arises simply because one doesn’t benefit from such privileges.

Li Yancheng tried to explain, hoping Zhou wouldn’t get any ideas about reporting Old Duan. If that happened, it would cause a big mess. Old Duan should just take his daughter and leave without making a fuss, but he had to blurt things out—even now, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“After what happened last night, the village is chaotic, especially among the educated youth. Brother Zhou, didn’t you hear that girl just now? They didn’t sleep all night. At dawn, everyone who could contact their families rushed to the veterinary station to queue up and make calls—men and women alike. Those kids are definitely scared stiff. Imagine living under the same roof with friends, following the rhythm of sunrise to sunset, and suddenly everything’s gone—just like that, and by their own folks at that. Anyone would be unsettled,” Li Yancheng said.

He couldn’t guess what Zhou was truly thinking but hoped his colleague would simply forget the matter and avoid any trouble.

...

The next few days passed quickly, and by January 17th, the new medical team arrived to relieve them. The replacements were also doctors from the First Hospital, including Zhang Yuchan, a female colleague who shared the consultation room with Li Yancheng. She was in her forties.

To facilitate housing arrangements at the clinic, both incoming doctors were women. The other was an obstetrician named Liao Xiaomei.

Liao Xiaomei was only twenty-four, a genuine university graduate from Beijing Medical University, quite a contrast to Li Yancheng’s vocational school background. She was attractive but already married—having tied the knot right after graduating.

She wasn’t a native of Beijing but came from a city in Beihe Province. Typically, graduates return to their hometowns, but for reasons unknown, she was assigned directly to the First Hospital.

Before university, she had already been betrothed. After securing her job, her fiancé—quite a decisive man—handed over his formal position back home to his younger brother, moved to Beijing to marry her, and, through this connection, landed a temporary boiler operator job at the hospital.

When Li Yancheng transferred to the First Hospital last year, he had heard about this and admired the man deeply. He thought that if it were him, he would never do such a thing—not because of a lack of love but because of how harsh gossip could be.

One was a university graduate, the other a middle school graduate working temporarily in a menial job. No matter the love, outsiders would see him as a freeloader.

Maybe you wouldn’t mind the whispers, but what about your spouse?

Besides, honestly, they had little in common.

Seeing Liao Xiaomei arrive to take over, Li Yancheng’s mind drifted to memories of her and her husband. In the hospital, many idle people quietly gossiped about the man. It was unclear why he drew such scrutiny, and nobody knew how the couple felt about it.

With their replacements present, Li Yancheng and Zhou Guotao packed up to return home. They politely declined Director Liu’s offer to prepare a farewell meal, bundled their belongings, and boarded the hospital’s shuttle.

...

It was Wednesday, January 17th, the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month in the Dingwei year.

One month after his soul had been transported to this era, Li Yancheng concluded his rural medical aid work and finally returned to the urban district of Beijing to begin a new chapter.

From now on, he could fully observe this magnificent era and participate in it firsthand.

What was the first thing upon returning? Reporting to hospital leadership, of course. Both were granted a four-day leave, allowing them to return to work the following Monday. But this leave wasn’t without obligations.

They were each required to submit a reflection on their three months of rural medical service.

That was easy. In his previous life, Li Yancheng had been a finance manager at a state-owned enterprise and was quite adept at writing such reports, often filled with florid, philosophical prose.

After finishing lunch at the hospital canteen, just past one in the afternoon, he finally returned home—nearly ten kilometers from the hospital.

Last year’s Spring Festival had been bleak; this year’s seemed no better. With less than two weeks until the New Year, the streets and alleys remained devoid of any festive spirit, a stark contrast to the countryside.