Chapter 4

"That's right, little girl, you should call 911 first. This child seems to have wandered off. I’ve been shouting for a while, but no one’s come." The old man was also advising her, worried that she’d be held responsible if anything went wrong.  

Amelia swiftly unbuttoned the boy's suit and moved him to a shaded spot. "Guys, don’t worry, I have a medical license."  

She pulled her bag and revealed a foldable medical kit. Opening it, rows of silver needles and surgical scalpels—long and short—were neatly arranged inside.  

Amelia checked the boy’s pulse again.  

"Stop!" The man in the white coat couldn’t hold back anymore and shouted, "How can you randomly insert needles into a patient!"  

Amelia ignored him, keeping her focus on the boy, counting his pulse and heart rate.  

The young man sneered, "I’m Oliver, a student from The Capital Medical University, under the tutelage of Dr.Adler. I’m not some ordinary person. You say you have a medical license? How old are you?"  

Amelia remained unfazed, concentrating on the boy as she sterilized the needle.  

"I’m talking to you!" Oliver had never been ignored like this. "Even the old man knows to wait for an ambulance. Don’t you understand?"  

Amelia knelt down, exuding a cold, confident aura. "Wait? To delay the rescue? Is that how your teacher taught you?"  

"Who said we should just wait for an ambulance?" Oliver retorted, his voice full of disdain. "Now you’re delaying the rescue by showing off with your needles. You’d better keep your so-called Traditional Medicine ‘quackery’ to yourself, and let me perform CPR on the patient."  

At his words, Amelia shot him a cold glance.  

Who would have thought that a pretty young girl could be so harsh when looking at people?  

"He has heatstroke. What CPR are you talking about?" Amelia pressed the boy's finger, her voice tinged with coldness. "Quack."  

Oliver flared up. "Who are you calling a quack? Do you even know who my mentor is?"  

He had just returned from abroad with an award alongside Dr.Adler, and this little girl dared to question his medical skills!  

"I’m not interested in knowing." Amelia pressed the boy's finger, continuing her work with quick, precise movements. "Step aside."  

Oliver’s face turned red with anger. "I won’t argue with a quack like you. His lips are purple, clearly indicating a heart problem."  

"Cardiac ischemia and hypoxia can cause breathing problems, leading to purple lips," Amelia met his gaze, her eyes cold. "But heatstroke can also cause purple lips. The difference is that his pulse is stable and calm, and his lip lines are cracked—clearly a result of prolonged exposure to high temperatures. You didn’t even observe these medical signs, and you call yourself a medical student?"  

"Yeah, you should observe the medical signs first, I had to study that too," someone chimed in.  

The crowd murmured. "This university guy doesn’t seem that great."  

"That girl’s more reliable. I saw her pulse diagnosis, it was professional."  

Oliver couldn’t take the humiliation. "Fine, let’s say it’s heatstroke. Do you think your few needles will cure him? What do we need medical students for, then?"  

"You can only represent yourself, not all medical students." Amelia’s eyes were icy. "I’ll say it again—step aside."  

She couldn’t stand two types of people: those who despised the legacy of traditional medicine, and incompetent doctors who delayed her from saving lives.  

"Fine, I’ll step aside. But I want to see how much you little girl can brag." Oliver crossed his arms with a sneer. "If your needles can cure him, I’ll kneel and call you ‘master!"  

"I’m waiting for you to say it," Amelia responded coldly.  

She moved gracefully, finding the right acupoint in the light, and swiftly raised her hand to insert the needle!