Chapter 137 The Bund
All roads lead to Rome. And some people are born in Rome!
No. 19, The Bund, Shanghai, South Building of Peace Hotel, no, now called Huizhong Hotel - built in the style of British Renaissance, with a red and white brick facade, Baroque tower pavilions of different shapes at the north and south ends on the east side, and two elevators inside.

Opposite No. 20, the dark green pyramid-shaped copper-roofed Sassoon Building is the Peace Hotel where "Boss Bao" rented the presidential suite. It was previously called the Chinachem Hotel, and now it is the office of the Finance Committee of the East China Bureau of the Communist Party of China.

In the coffee shop on the second floor of Huizhong Hotel, amid the melodious music of the violin, a thin young man in a suit, tie, gold-rimmed glasses, with a 3:7 haircut and oiled hair, threw two sugar cubes into the coffee, poured some milk, and stirred it gently with a coffee spoon.

Outside the window, the Huangpu River is calm in winter, with layers of golden waves rising in the breeze.

Fishing boats and sand ships occasionally pass by on the river, but no foreign warships are seen showing off their might.
Wang Deming, who was sitting opposite the young man, had a faint smile on his face. He picked up the coffee and took a sip.

The bitterness of black coffee lingers between the mouth and the tip of the tongue. It's a long-lost feeling.
Starbucks' iced Americano was the best choice for staying up late in the past. Although this cup of black coffee made from freshly ground coffee beans is stronger, it still tastes bad.
The young man was stunned for a moment and then exclaimed: "Comrade Wang, you are really amazing. You actually drink black coffee directly!"

"Although I studied in the United States for many years, I still can't adapt to such bitterness."

Wang Deming blinked and put his coffee down, wondering if the young man across from him was trying to give him a way out or was he indirectly mocking him?
However, looking at the clear and stupid look in the other person's eyes, the first guess is more reliable.

"Haha!" Wang Deming laughed and said as if mocking himself: "As a Chinese medicine doctor, it's normal for me to like bitterness, right?"

"Good medicine tastes bitter but is good for the disease."

"If I, as a Chinese medicine doctor, am not familiar with the efficacy of medicines, how can I treat patients?"

The young man opposite gave a thumbs up in admiration, "Comrade Wang, although I don't understand medicine, I believe that with your spirit, you will definitely become an excellent Chinese medicine doctor."

Wang Deming smiled and replied, "Thank you for your words! Although I haven't got my medical license yet, I have passed the exam. I believe that day is not far away."

After just a few words, the two of them got rid of the sense of strangeness. In the past they had always communicated through letters and phone calls, but this was the first time they met.

The young man couldn't help but joked, "Seeing that you are so young, I can't help but wonder, if a good doctor will definitely become a good writer?"

Wang Deming nodded seriously and agreed, "It should be!"

Then they both laughed "Haha" at the same time.

The young man chatted more casually. "Comrade Wang, I thought you came to me this time because you were going to publish your second book. I didn't expect that this time you wanted to publish a book about medical treatment."

"I remember you told me before that you have been writing your second masterpiece for a long time. I wonder when I can have a glimpse of it?"

Wang Deming took another sip of coffee, smacked his lips, and said with feeling: "Things have their priorities! Comrade Zhao, novels can only elevate people's spirits; but this medical manual can heal people's deep pain." "For a long time, our country has been short of doctors and medicines, especially in the vast rural areas. Before liberation, the bald heads continued to ban traditional Chinese medicine. Now think about the Korean battlefield. Western medicine can't be relied on. Alas."

The young man opposite was named Zhao Shouyan, an editor at the Commercial Press. He came from a prominent family. Of the nine governors-general in the late Qing Dynasty, two were from his family.
Zhao Erxun, the governor of the three northeastern provinces, and Zhao Erfeng, the minister stationed in Tibet; Zhao Erxun had four brothers, and the eldest, Zhao Erzhen, was also a third-rank official in the Ministry of Works, known as "three Jinshi in one family, two governors-general in one brother."

Zhao Shouyan's eyes suddenly widened with anger, and he gritted his teeth and said, "Those bald guys have done nothing good!"

“Capitalists are not good people either!”

"Comrade Wang, do you know? A major case related to the Korean War has recently occurred in Shanghai: Wang Kangnian, the owner of Dakang Western Medicine Store, provided a large number of counterfeit, inferior and expired Western medicines and gauze to the frontline soldiers!"

"What?" Wang Deming was stunned and asked hurriedly, "What exactly happened?"

Thanks to the texts "Who Are the Most Lovely People" and "Huang Jiguang", it can be said that as long as you have been to school, you will know about the Korean War, and you will know that our soldiers fought bloody battles in exchange for the backbone and courage of the Chinese people.

Secondly, because of the third generation of the Huo family who married Jingjing, the general public also knew about Huo Yingdong, a patriotic leader who risked his life to smuggle drugs into the country.

But at this time of national war, there are still people who have lost their conscience and are worse than beasts!

Zhao Shouyan sighed and told what he knew, which meant that he knew a little more in the cultural and news circles.

It turned out that during the fourth battle which had just ended at the end of 51, the field hospital discovered that the gauze in the first aid kit was moldy, the medical cotton cloth was yellow and aged, and the disinfection equipment was rusted; further investigation revealed that the anti-inflammatory drugs used by the soldiers were ineffective.

It turns out that it is either expired or counterfeit with cornmeal.
Upon investigation, we found that all of them were provided by Wang Kangnian, the owner of Shanghai Dakang Western Medicine Store. What's even more hateful is that he took the money but never paid the Hong Kong side. We had to continue to raise money to pay before the Hong Kong side would ship the goods.

And he needs his signature.
Zhao Shouyan smiled bitterly and said, "He was arrested just last week on February 2th."

Upon hearing the news, Wang Deming was so angry that his face turned red and his whole body was shaking!
Even if you sell it at a slightly higher price? Even if you make a little money? But this is a traitor, a traitor to the country, and a sinner of the nation!
Such a person deserves to be cut into pieces!

Why didn’t I know this in my previous life?
Shouldn’t propaganda have both positive and negative sides?
Without Yue Fei's tragic heroism, would Qin Hui have been despised for more than 1000 years?
Wang Deming felt as if his heart was being torn apart by a knife. If I had known this, could I have warned the government in advance?
I know the Ice Sculpture Company of Changjin Lake, I know Wu Jing plays the "Wu Qianli" who goes deep behind enemy lines, and Yi Yang Qianxi plays the "Wu Wanli".
I know potatoes, I know fried noodles, but I don’t know anything about the other things!
After a long time, Wang Deming picked up the coffee and drank it all in one gulp. Even the bitterness of black coffee could not extinguish the fire in his heart!

"Brother Shouyan!" Wang Deming looked at Zhao Shouyan opposite him with burning eyes and said solemnly: "Please help publish this "Rural Doctor's Handbook" as soon as possible!"

　The author's idea of ​​writing this novel first came from Mr. Zhao Heng's "Ten Years in Ertiao"; I don't live in Beijing, so I looked up a lot of information and books to write a good period article. I was shocked when I saw Mr. Zhao Heng's memoir-like book, and then I read Professor Ding Zhuangyi's "Old Beijing Oral History" and decided to write a different "Siheyuan". But it seems that not many people like it.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)