A person who eats someone's food has a short tongue, and a person who accepts someone's gifts has soft hands.
Su Ning had already sent over all the supplies, and the Northeastern Army didn't make excuses to refuse — mainly because they were eyeing those helicopters and airplanes. The war had blown the railways to pieces, making land routes difficult.
But the sky route was a different story.
So, soon enough, some people got to experience penicillin.
In the hospital.
"At the time, the situation was desperate, I'll tell you — if it had been anyone else, they'd have been completely lost, maybe even thought that Miss Su's people had made a move, and the scene would've been even more chaotic. I'd been shot, and I realized right away something was off — the bullet came from our own side. In the nick of time, I yelled out, 'Brothers, stay calm! Something's wrong!'"
At that point, Guo Er paused deliberately, and his listeners started urging him on.
"Go on, what happened next?"
"Is it because you yelled that the fight didn't break out?"
"Not exactly — it still broke out..." Even while bragging, Guo Er didn't dare take all the credit, which drew a round of jeers.
He got anxious and quickly added:
"It did break out, but I definitely contributed. Believe me or not, Miss Su herself knows it. How else would I not have been dragged down by that traitor Wu Yi, and be lying here recovering comfortably?"
To keep the impact low,
the news of Wu Yi's betrayal hadn't been made public, but the people who could listen to Guo Er brag here were all of notable status and naturally knew about it.
Hearing this, they were somewhat convinced.
Guo Er pressed his advantage and said wistfully:
"Honestly, if it weren't for Miss Su, that snake Wu Yi would've stayed hidden for who knows how long. To be able to contribute a second time — even if I was badly wounded, I've got no regrets. Instead, I should thank Miss Su for giving me the chance to prove myself."
"If I ever got the chance, I'd repay her for sure."
Outside the ward door.
The group that had just overheard this had mixed feelings.
The Su Ning side, led by Ye Tang, naturally felt gratified, nodding repeatedly. Reporter Ye, in particular, was scribbling away in her notebook, her pen flying — though the writing looked like encrypted scribbles that only she could decipher.
As for Guo Er's brother, he barely held back a sigh.
They pushed open the door.
Walking in, he forced a smile and said to his younger brother:
"No worries — you've got your chance to repay Miss Su right now."
Guo Er was confused.
Then —
Several people filed in. At the front, a person in a white coat came over, checked his wound in a few quick motions, and nodded with satisfaction:
"Well, you're in luck."
"Huh?"
Was he saying he was recovering well?
"The wound is inflamed and infected — probably because too much time passed before treatment. Even though it was cleaned thoroughly, the inflammation couldn't be stopped." The white coat looked at the stunned Guo Er:
"Congratulations, you meet the standard for using penicillin. So, are you happy?"
Penicillin!
Those three words hit like thunder, exploding in Guo Er's head and leaving him seeing stars.
He twisted his mouth into a smile that looked more like crying:
"I... can I not be happy?"
The white coat smiled gently, turned to the others, and said:
"Look at this kid — he's so happy he's gone dumb."
The other patients in the ward couldn't get away fast enough, practically sprouting extra legs as they scrambled out, retreating at full speed. They'd only taken a few steps when a blood-curdling shriek came from behind them, enough to make anyone's hair stand on end.
"I heard that medicine takes effect fast — is Guo Er, could he...?"
Someone swallowed hard.
They exchanged looks of sorrow, thinking — a perfectly fine man who was just talking to them, and now he's gone just like that.
Then —
They ran even faster. They simply stopped seeking treatment. They were fine now.
They wanted to be discharged!
Inside the door.
"Depending on the individual's constitution, the degree of pain from the skin test varies. It seems Mr. Guo is one of the more sensitive types."
Facing the white coat's meaningful gaze,
Guo Er, who had just been wailing with snot and tears streaming down, blushed red as a monkey's backside. Well, it did hurt a bit — but mostly he'd been scared.
He hung his head in frustration,
admitting he was indeed more sensitive.
A few minutes later, the cold medicine was injected into his body. The ward fell quiet. That day, Guo Er's tears soaked his pillow through, and he drifted off to sleep without realizing it. When he woke up —
Hey, I'm fine?
…
After the first one,
came the second, the third, the fourth.
The Northeast was in the middle of war, so there was no shortage of wounded. Even with strict screening, penicillin was being consumed at a frantic pace.
And then, the outside world quickly found out.
The reaction of ordinary people went without saying — the skyrocketing non-plot-character rewards for Su Ning reflected it perfectly. Those in power, however, spoke in a tone of having expected it all along:
"Well, it's Su Ning after all."
It'd be strange if they did anything good without a catch — even honey comes laced with arsenic. If this kept up, maybe one day the name Su Ning would become an adjective itself.
In short, how critical the outside world was of Su Ning, that's how much pity and sighing it had for those in the Northeast — no matter what, they were defending their homeland. They had no other reinforcements, and now they had to sell their lives to be test subjects for medicine.
Actually, in the early stages, most of those selected were low-ranking soldiers from the front lines.
They knew nothing.
Medicine?
Great — use it, fast.
They generally didn't get much care either. Aside from Su Ning's people, who paid a little attention, it was basically life or death by fate. No one cared.
Until the medicine reached someone of status.
In the crude field hospital.
Ye Tang could hear from inside the crying and cursing that even the sound of gunfire couldn't drown out — and who they were cursing at needed no explanation.
She couldn't help frowning.
She wanted to rush in and argue back — this time, Miss Su was clearly doing something good, so why were they misunderstanding her? She'd recorded all those who used the penicillin, and every single one had shown clear improvement.
Most importantly —
Not a single one had died from the penicillin!
The people inside didn't see it that way. Some were crying, some were coming up with ideas, all in a noisy uproar. The pale-faced man lying on the bed finally spoke up:
"Alright, everyone, stop arguing."
The room fell silent.
He turned his head with difficulty.
The man who was usually loud and hot-tempered spoke with unprecedented gentleness.
His tone still carried a breezy boldness:
"In my life, I've been through everything — hardship, wealth, ups and downs. And at the end of it, I'm fighting the Japanese. I've lived my life to the full. I already agreed to this penicillin, so I'll take it. Either way, without it, I wasn't going to make it."
The crying inside started up again.
His wound was too large — pus, swelling, redness, no sign of healing, and he'd developed a high fever. Everyone knew what that meant.
He called each person by name, asked about the war situation, gave instructions to his subordinates on what to do next, and sent word to his superiors. When he'd run out of strength,
he called his son up.
"After I'm gone, you take good care of the family, and take care of yourself too. Don't worry — your old man will watch over you from down below."
A rare moment of fatherly warmth
made his son tear up again, nodding repeatedly. Seeing his father gesture,
he leaned in to listen, and heard:
“I’m at the old family estate… the third courtyard, by the base of the wall, there’s a cellar, and overseas bank accounts… the account names, the passwords…”
He finished spilling everything about the family fortune.
He figured he could now face death with peace of mind. The skin test didn’t bother him—the wound hurt too much for him to even notice when the injection went in. He passed out cold.
His last thought was—
No regrets in dying.
He didn’t die, though. So that meant regrets after all.
The next day, when he woke up, he dragged his son over immediately, smacked him on the head, and ordered him to forget everything he’d heard before. Still uneasy, he frantically had people change the passwords and move the silver to a different cellar.
Similar incidents kept happening, and the Northeastern military finally, belatedly, began to sense that something was off.
