Chapter 6581
Strange
Not only that, Xiao Chen also noticed that the old man's diagnostic method was very different from that of ordinary Chinese medicine. It was not based solely on traditional pulse judgment, but cleverly integrated some of the unique perception abilities of martial artists, as if he could see through the surface and directly hit the core of the disease. It can be seen that he has deeply studied the fields of medicine and martial arts and has unique attainments.
"It seems that the hospital's 'White Army' has raised the white flag and surrendered." Xiao Chen stroked his chin and complained silently in his heart.
He turned his eyes away from the old man and looked at the doctors in white coats in the ward. They all looked solemn, with frowns and eyes full of helplessness and confusion, as if they had no idea what to do with Ma Yuanhua's difficult condition.
Looking at the warrior doctor in front of him, although he has demonstrated remarkable skills, Xiao Chen still has doubts in his heart. It is really hard to be sure whether he really has the power to turn the tide and cure Ma Yuanhua's complicated and difficult to treat illness.
At this moment, the atmosphere in the ward was so heavy that it was almost suffocating. The tension was like a bowstring that was stretched to its limit, as if it would break in the next second.
Sophie and Xiao Chen were well aware of the "rules" here. They were like two extremely well-behaved primary school students, with slightly hunched bodies, quietly huddled in a corner of the ward, reducing their presence to a minimum.
Sophie's hands were tightly clenched on the corners of her clothes, her fingertips turned white due to the force, her eyes were wide open, staring at the doctor who was concentrating on the diagnosis without blinking, not even daring to breathe, for fear that even the slightest movement would disrupt the delicate balance of this "mysterious" diagnosis scene that seemed to carry the key to fate.
Xiao Chen clasped his hands across his chest, his arms subconsciously tightened, his eyes focused and serious, his back straight, and he also held his breath and waited quietly for the diagnosis results. His whole body exuded a solemn aura that blended with the tense atmosphere.
The doctor took the patient's pulse slowly, but his hands did not stop moving. He was like a high-performance, precision scanner, with a steady posture, slowly moving inch by inch across the old man's body.
Sometimes he stretched out his fingers and gently pressed various parts of the old man's body with extremely gentle and precise force, delicately feeling the changes in the elasticity of the muscles through his fingertips, not missing any abnormalities; sometimes he leaned over slightly, put his face close to the old man's skin, his eyes as sharp as torches, as if he was searching for rare treasures, not missing any changes that were so subtle that they were almost imperceptible.
His eyes were focused and sharp, as if he wanted to see through every corner of the old man's body, trying to capture any clues that might hide key clues to his illness.
Suddenly, his relaxed brows furrowed tightly, like two steep hills rising suddenly, and he began to mutter in a low voice: "Strange, strange..."
He looked just like an explorer who had finally discovered a new continent in the vast ocean, but could not find the entrance. His face was full of confusion and puzzlement, as if he was trapped in an unsolvable mystery.
Ma Zhenglin watched all of this from the side. Upon seeing this, he immediately rushed forward like a frightened and extremely nervous rabbit, his feet seemed to be equipped with springs, and he took two steps at a time.
At this moment, there were only two emotions in his eyes: anxiety and worry. He fixed his gaze on Divine Doctor Wang and asked carefully, "Divine Doctor Wang, what's the condition of my father?"
His voice trembled slightly, and in that barely perceptible tremor, there was a hint of humble pleading, as if the words that Divine Doctor Wang was about to utter were the final judgment that would determine his father's fate. He was looking forward to hearing good news from Divine Doctor Wang. Upon hearing this, Divine Doctor Wang subconsciously raised his hand to adjust the pair of old-fashioned glasses on his nose, and his brows furrowed even more, almost enough to pinch a fly to death.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze became deep, and he fell into a brief but deep thought.
After a moment, he slowly spoke, his voice low and solemn, as if every word carried a heavy weight: "My blood and energy are severely depleted, just like being visited by a vampire and sucked dry of my vital energy. But I have searched all the possibilities, but I can't find the root of the disease. It's really weird, too weird!"
Every word he spoke was like a heavy stone, hitting Ma Zhenglin's heart accurately and making his heart tighten in an instant.
When Ma Zhenglin heard this, he became anxious like an ant on hot pan, pacing back and forth in the limited space of the ward.
He rubbed his hands uncontrollably, his movements becoming more and more rapid. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and beads of sweat slid down his cheeks. He kept mumbling, "Since my dad came back last time, he has become so thin that he looks like a bamboo pole. He went through all kinds of tests in the hospital before, but there was no result at all."
"I've changed countless doctors these days, but my father's condition has not improved. Instead, it's getting worse and worse. Doctor Wang, you have great medical skills, but you must save my father. Do you have any life-saving prescriptions?"
As he spoke, he stopped, his eyes filled with almost desperate expectation, as if Doctor Wang at this moment was the last straw he had grasped in this dark and desperate situation. As long as Doctor Wang was willing to help, there would still be a glimmer of hope.
Ma Yuanhua lay quietly on the bed, his body so weak that he seemed to be blown down by a gust of wind. Even so, he still managed to hold on, and said in a weak voice not much louder than the sound of a mosquito's wings: "Thank you, Dr. Wang."
His voice was weak and hoarse, and every word that came out of his cracked lips seemed to use up the little strength he had left in his body, which was heartbreaking to hear.
Doctor Wang waved his hands quickly, his face seemed to be filled with the words "I feel guilty". He lowered his head slightly, his eyes revealing a trace of deep self-blame: "Don't thank me, it's my poor skills that made me unable to help. I'm really ashamed!"
After saying that, he turned around and walked quickly to the table next to him. He paused and began to concentrate on thinking about the prescription, like a student who was facing a very difficult problem and was thinking hard about his homework.
Sometimes he picked up a pen and wrote and drew quickly on the paper. As the pen moved, he seemed to try to put all his hope into those lines of handwriting. Sometimes he stopped writing, frowned again, fixed his eyes on a certain place, and fell into deep thought, as if he was engaged in a fierce and silent battle with the medical problem that concerned life and death in front of him, vowing to find a glimmer of hope.
The wall clock made a monotonous ticking sound, and each tick was like a heavy hammer hitting everyone's heart. (End of this chapter)