I Am Diagnosed as a Medical Titan

Chapter 177: Chapter 135: Never Alone

The urban village always wakes up earlier than the city.

Before six o’clock, the rattle of a roll-up security door echoed from downstairs. It was a terribly loud noise, one that never failed to wake Old Lin.

He lay in his rented room, trying to turn over.

But his muscles ached all over, and he couldn’t muster even a shred of strength.

The moment he tried to take a deep breath, his throat involuntarily let out a dry cough.

”COUGH, COUGH... COUGH, COUGH, COUGH!”

He coughed so hard that tears streamed from his eyes.

Once he finally caught his breath, Old Lin painstakingly reached out, fumbling for the Nokia on his bedside table.

His hand slipped, and the phone fell to the floor.

’How frustrating.’ He wanted to reach down to pick it up.

But a wave of weakness washed over him, and he accidentally slid off the bed and onto the floor...

Pain. Exhaustion.

Wincing, Old Lin pressed a button on the phone, but there was no response.

’No wonder the alarm didn’t go off. The battery’s dead.’

He glanced at the universal charger on the wall. The metal contacts weren’t aligned with the battery, and the indicator light was dim.

The battery hadn’t charged at all.

Old Lin sighed, deciding not to bother with it.

His throat was so dry it felt like it was about to catch fire.

He struggled to his feet, poured half a glass of warm water, and gulped it down. Only then did he manage to suppress the urge to cough.

Next, he pulled open a drawer and took out a worn, black leather wallet.

He opened it to reveal a photograph tucked inside:

A short-haired girl in a high school uniform stood at the main gate of the city’s top high school, smiling at the camera and flashing a peace sign.

Old Lin caressed the image of the girl in the photo, and his heavy head seemed to clear a little.

”My girl... you’re a senior this year.”

he muttered, a faint smile touching his lips.

He’d been driving a taxi in Yangcheng for three years now.

The city was huge and prosperous, but Old Lin’s life moved between only two points: the cabin of his taxi and this single bed.

To snag more of the big fares to and from the airport, he often made do with a roadside pancake for his meals.

The girl in the photo was his daughter. Her grades were top-notch, and her teachers guaranteed that as long as she stayed steady, getting into a top-tier university would be no problem.

However, his daughter also had her own idea of studying abroad.

That would be a considerable expense.

At this thought, Old Lin closed his wallet and carefully tucked it into his pants pocket.

He walked to the corner of the room, opened the plastic bag from the pharmacy last night, and swallowed two amoxicillin capsules and a packet of cold medicine with the remaining warm water.

In his experience, minor ailments like this—a headache and a fever—could be endured by just sweating it out in the car.

’As for resting? That’s not an option. A day off the road is a day’s wages lost. I can’t rest.’

Old Lin pulled on his taxi company uniform shirt, grabbed his car keys, and pushed the door open to head downstairs.

An old-model sedan was parked downstairs.

He got into the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition, and switched on the car radio.

”...In the latest news, the 104th China Import and Export Fair (Canton Fair) is currently experiencing peak visitor traffic. The number of foreign merchants attending this session is expected to exceed 200,000. Security and reception work in our city are also proceeding steadily...”

Old Lin slapped his cheeks, forcing himself to stay alert, and put the car in gear.

The car pulled out of the urban village and merged into the morning rush hour traffic.

He deliberately rolled down the window, letting the cool morning breeze rush in—

It seemed to be the only way to keep himself from dozing off at the wheel.

[FOR HIRE]

The sign lit up behind the windshield.

In this megacity of over ten million people, the taxi silently slipped into the vast sea of vehicles.

...

Meanwhile, in Yangcheng, at the Provincial Health Department.

Lin Zhenhua had just received a call from Secretary Wang.

Jiang He. In the last half-month, that name had appeared on his desk several times.

Whether it was the red-tag zone miracle he created during the Ring City Expressway car crash, the papers he published in top medical journals, or his stunning, perfect-score performance in the South China Region finals, everything made Lin Zhenhua admire this young man immensely.

He was even prepared to use his authority to recommend Jiang He for the Ministry of Health’s ”Excellence in Medicine Education and Training Program.”

But admiration was one thing; what lay before him now was a major public health crisis that could potentially affect the entire province.

An extremely high-risk, severe pneumonia of unknown origin. A new, quadruple-reassortant variant strain. An extremely high human-to-human transmission capability...

Every word Jiang He had conveyed was so heavy it was suffocating.

Normally, for a locality to report any virulent infectious disease, it had to go through viral isolation, cultivation, and gene sequencing by both the municipal and provincial CDCs.

Only after obtaining evidence would the Provincial Health Department, jointly with the provincial government, request instructions from the Ministry of Health, and finally, the state would issue a national alert.

This was because the social panic and economic losses caused by any single false alarm were immeasurable.

What’s more, it was now October 2008, and the 104th Canton Fair—hailed as the barometer of China’s foreign trade—was at its peak for visitor traffic.

At such a critical juncture, without an official confirmation document from the National Disease Control Center, who would dare to speak lightly of locking down the venue or conducting a large-scale screening of foreign merchants?

If it later turned out to be a false alarm, the career of the person who gave the order would be over in an instant.

Lin Zhenhua slowly closed his eyes, and the spring of ’03 surfaced in his mind once again:

The overcrowded corridors in Yangcheng’s major hospitals, the desperate long lines outside the fever clinics, and the colleagues who, despite wearing heavy protective suits, had silently fallen at their posts...

Finally.

Lin Zhenhua made his decision.

He snatched the landline phone from his desk and directly dialed the private line of the head of the Provincial Public Security Department.

”Old Chen, it’s me, Lin Zhenhua. We have an emergency.”

”I need you to immediately dispatch a special police unit to coordinate with the provincial and municipal CDC emergency teams. They are to completely lock down the Westin Hotel. The official story for the public is that you’re assisting the health department with a sudden, routine epidemiological health inspection. Remember: keep the external appearance relaxed but maintain tight internal control. Whatever you do, don’t alert the media!”