233: Fifth Incarnation: Heavenly Physician (25)

Xu Yuan had barely closed his eyes, and Aunt Zhang, A Niu, and the others were also constantly on the move.

To everyone's slight relief, apart from those initial few households, no new large-scale outbreaks occurred.

As for those few patients, after being continuously fed medicinal decoctions and receiving relatively clean care, the most dangerous symptoms of vomiting and diarrhea began to gradually ease by the following afternoon, and their high fevers slowly subsided.

On the morning of the third day, when the clerks and bailiffs arrived at the alley entrance again, what they saw was not the expected deathly silence or even worse chaos, but rather curling cooking smoke. Although everyone looked exhausted, the despair of impending death was no longer in their eyes.

Even the most severely ill patients, though weak, were now able to lean against their doorways and drink porridge.

"Officers," Xu Yuan pointed to the spot where the source of the trouble had been buried deep, "The source of the disaster has been removed, the sick are gradually recovering, and the three-day deadline has not yet arrived, yet the epidemic is already under control. This was no seasonal plague, but a man-made disaster—inferior rice harmed the people, and filth caused the illness."

The clerk looked at the patients who were indeed improving, and then at the alley which, though dilapidated, had clearly undergone a thorough cleaning and appeared much more orderly. His expression shifted before he finally spat out a sentence: "Since it was food poisoning, then nurse yourselves well! This matter... this humble official will naturally report it to the superiors!"

With that, he hurriedly left with the bailiffs, as if staying a moment longer would taint him with bad luck.

As soon as the bailiffs left, the alley fell silent for a moment, followed by an outburst of long-suppressed sobs and sighs, a mix of relief and lingering fear.

Aunt Zhang sat down on the ground, wiping her tears: "It's over... it's finally over..."

A Niu's face was also covered in soot, but he grinned widely: "Young Brother Su, you're truly a True God!"

The survivors of the ordeal gathered around, looking at Xu Yuan with eyes filled with unprecedented gratitude and conviction.

Xu Yuan stood in the center of the crowd, exhausted yet standing tall.

He looked at those faces, etched with the hardships of life but now radiating a faint spark of vitality. He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse from fatigue but every word clear, striking a chord in everyone's heart:

"You have all seen it. When the bailiffs came, they thought of sealing our doors, burning our houses, and driving us like mangy dogs to the mass graves to wait for death. They didn't care if it was a plague or not, and they didn't care if we died unjustly."

The crowd fell silent, remembering the fear and despair of that moment.

"It was we ourselves, relying on everyone working together to dig pits and bury the poison, boil water and brew medicine, and look after one another, that we pulled through." Xu Yuan's gaze swept over A Niu, Aunt Zhang, and everyone who had participated in this self-rescue. "Heaven did not come to help us, and the government did not come to save us. It was we ourselves who saved ourselves."

There was absolute silence in the alley, save for the whistling of the wind through the broken shacks.

"Wild weeds can cure diseases because we recognize them and know how to use them."

"Dirty water can become clean because we are willing to spend firewood to boil it."

"Moldy rice can harm people, but it can also be buried by our joint efforts to eliminate the disaster."

Xu Yuan paused, then spoke the words he had been brewing in his heart for a long time:

"Heaven does not help man; man must help himself."

"If we can endure this 'food poisoning' together today, what if there is another disaster tomorrow? Shall we wait for the officials to show mercy, or hope for the Heavens to open their eyes?" His voice was not loud, but it was like a stone thrown into stagnant water, stirring up layers of ripples.

"Young Brother Su, what do you think we should do?" A Niu couldn't help but ask, his fists clenched tightly.

Xu Yuan did not answer directly, but instead looked toward the depths of the alley, the place where they had just fought together.

"From today on, in our alley, each household will take turns sending someone to watch the entrance of the water channel. No dumping of filth is allowed. The communal water buckets must be scalded with boiling water once a day. If you see moldy or spoiled grain coming in, give each other a warning. If any family falls into hardship, the neighbors should lend a hand."

He spoke calmly, yet he outlined a picture of interdependence and orderly mutual aid that was completely different from before.

"This isn't for anyone else; it's for ourselves, for our parents and children, so that we can live a little better and a little longer in this world, more like human beings."

He shouted no slogans and made no promises of the future.

But the eight words 'Heaven does not help man, man must help himself,' along with the soul-stirring experience of these three days of self-rescue, were already deeply seared into the heart of every survivor.

A 'plague' that could have turned into a tragedy was transformed into an opportunity to unite people and awaken their consciousness under Xu Yuan's precise judgment and efficient organization.

The incompetence and indifference of the government stood in stark, blinding contrast to the power of their own unity.

Xu Yuan returned to his shack, and Su An rushed forward to hug him tightly, his small face pale with fright.

Xu Yuan stroked his younger brother's head, his gaze passing over the low roof of the shack, as if looking further into the distance.

He knew that after this battle, 'Rat Alley' would no longer be just a pile of loose sand.

A bond based on shared survival experience and a vague sense of identity had quietly formed.

And on his 'Map of Human Hearts,' the markers representing 'mobilizable forces' and 'potential identification' showed a clear and powerful concentration for the first time.

After the moldy rice incident, the atmosphere in 'Rat Alley' indeed changed.

It wasn't that it suddenly became clean and prosperous; that was impossible. But a subtle, unspoken order began to take root.

At the entrance of the water channel, people really did start taking turns to keep watch. Although they only stood there when they had a spare moment, the dumping of filth clearly decreased—no one wanted to be pointed at and cursed by the entire alley.

By the communal broken water buckets, women could occasionally be seen bringing hot water to scald them.

Instances of neighbors bringing a bowl of thin porridge or helping to carry a bucket of water when a man fell ill or a woman was in confinement became more frequent than before.

The most significant change was that the purpose of those who came to Xu Yuan to 'ask for medicine' began to differ.

Besides those who were truly sick, people also began to ask: "Young Brother Su, what did that herb you taught A Niu to use for burns look like? A worker in the shop next to mine also got burned, and I want to tell him."

"You said last time that one should boil water for diarrhea. If firewood is tight, is there any other way to make the water a bit cleaner first?"

Xu Yuan keenly sensed this change.

People no longer saw him merely as a mysterious 'Little Physician' who could provide folk remedies, but began, consciously or unconsciously, to want to master these 'methods' that could make life a little better for themselves and those around them.

This was a shift from passively receiving aid to actively seeking knowledge and methods—a key step in the Awakening of consciousness.

"Relying solely on word of mouth is too slow and prone to errors."

Under the oil lamp, Xu Yuan contemplated the small notebook that was growing thicker with notes.

Su An was already asleep, breathing steadily. Outside the window was the heavy night of 'Rat Alley,' but Xu Yuan knew that something was germinating underground.

He spread out the coarse pages once more, charcoal pencil in hand.

This time, he was not recording intelligence, but beginning to organize and compile.