Chapter 63 — The Medicine Bearer Through the Chaos

Lines of People with Nowhere to Return

The next morning, when Tinh Yen had not yet finished her bowl of thin porridge for breakfast, the noise from the city gate reached the military medical station, signaling that a new batch of refugees had just arrived. She let go of the bowl and hurried out, and the scene before her eyes made her pause for a breath.

Compared to yesterday, the number of people waiting in front of the city gate had doubled, perhaps even more. They came from three or four different villages along the northern road, places where the North had just overrun during the night. Some families were still intact, some families were left with only the mother holding her small child, her eyes empty with no more tears left to shed.

"Medical team, focus!" Tinh Yen shouted loudly, her voice loud enough to drown out the chaotic noise. "Split into three groups according to what we discussed last night — one group to triage right at the gate, one group to handle minor injuries, one group to focus on serious cases that need to be brought into the city immediately."

Next to her, a young man, about twenty, wearing a new military uniform, looking somewhat clumsy but with eyes full of enthusiasm, hurriedly stepped forward to accept the task. That was Ton Ba Nghi, one of the youngest medical students assigned to the Thai Medical Institute. He had only graduated less than a year ago. This was the first time he had truly faced the scale of war casualties.

"Doctor Du, I... I've never seen so many people at the same time." Ton Ba Nghi said, his voice trembling slightly, his hand tightening his tool bag.

"I was just like you when I first started." Tinh Yen replied, placing her hand on his shoulder in a brief gesture of reassurance. "Don't look at the whole crowd, just look at each person standing in front of you. One person, one at a time. You can do it."

The whole morning passed in a non-stop cycle — taking pulses, looking at wounds, triaging, bandaging, transferring serious cases into the city. Some people were injured by broken pieces of wood when the house collapsed, others were burned by fire, and even an old man had his leg dislocated because he fell on the street and ran around all night without stopping. But what worried Tinh Yen the most was not the skin wounds, but a number of symptoms that began to appear sporadically — mild fever, diarrhea, unusual fatigue — signs that she was all too familiar with from a memory she had never really gone away from.

In the middle of the afternoon, when the hottest sun of the day fell on the camp, Nhuoc Lan came and pulled Tinh Yen's hand to a corner, her voice low and full of worry.

"I've counted seven new cases of fever in the last two hours, all in the southern camp, near the stream." she said. "The symptoms are almost the same — fever, stomach ache, some start to have diarrhea. You think..."

"I don't want to think about it, but I can't help but think." Tinh Yen replied, her voice heavy. She turned back to look at the crowded camp, where hundreds of people were crowded together in a tight space, sharing the same water source and a makeshift toilet area hastily dug in a few shallow holes not far enough from the tent. That scene vividly and painfully reminded her of Lach Dua village ten years ago, when the July epidemic started with small signs similar to this.

She reached out to Ms. Cuu Tram as soon as possible, presenting her concerns in the clearest and most urgent way.

"We need to separate people with fever symptoms into a separate area immediately." Tinh Yen said. "And absolutely no one is allowed to use water from that stream again without boiling it thoroughly, even for washing hands or vegetables."

"It's easy for you to say, but how can there be enough firewood to boil water for so many people?" Cuu Tram replied, his voice helpless but not in protest, just admitting a harsh reality. "I tried my best."

"I understand." Tinh Yen said, holding her hand. "I will find a way to get more firewood and a big pot from the city. But for now, at least let someone guard the stream and don't let anyone drink water directly without boiling it, even if it's only a temporary measure."

While the two discussed, a sobbing sound rang out from the dry tree stump, where the strange little girl had been sitting silently since yesterday. Tinh Yen rushed over and saw the girl trembling, sweat drenching her tangled hair, her face was red with a much higher fever than when she checked the previous afternoon.

"Her fever is getting higher." Tinh Yen said, her voice urgent, quickly placing the back of her hand on the child's forehead to confirm. "Nhuoc Lan, bring me cool water and clean towels, quickly!"

While waiting for Nhuoc Lan to return, Tinh Yen held the baby in her arms, her voice gently reassuring even though she herself was extremely stressed. "Don't be afraid, I'm here. What's your name? Can you tell me?"

The baby moved his lips, his voice was so small it was almost inaudible. "Tep... my name is Tep."

"Tep." Tinh Yen repeated, smiling slightly even though her heart was aching. "What a beautiful name. Okay, Tep, I'll take good care of you, you just try to drink some water and rest."

She quickly examined more closely — the child's stomach was slightly bloated, his stools were loose, and signs of dehydration were beginning to show through his dry, cracked lips and less elastic skin. These were exactly the symptoms she feared most, and now they were no longer a vague worry, but were present right before her eyes, in her arms.

Tinh Yen quickly mixed a simple electrolyte replacement drink according to the recipe she learned from Lieu Nguyen many years ago — salt, sugar, and boiled and cooled water in the correct proportions — then patiently gave Tep small spoonfuls at a time, alternating with wiping her body with a damp cloth to reduce her fever.

"Do you think this is the first sign of a larger epidemic?" Nhuoc Lan asked, after bringing water and towels, she sat down to help Tinh Yen take care of baby Tep.

"I hope I thought wrong." Tinh Yen replied, her hand still continuing to cool the child. "But I'm not sure at all. The conditions here are almost exactly the same as what happened in my village ten years ago — too many people, unclean water, lack of sanitation, seasonal changes. All of these factors combined, just a small pathogen is enough to explode into a large epidemic, faster than anyone can react."

In the afternoon, Tinh Yen and Dinh Ba Kham returned to the grain warehouse, carrying an official document signed by Ve Khai Trach, requesting the release of a basic amount of medicine to deal with the rapidly deteriorating situation outside the refugee camp. But when they arrived, they only received a small portion of the requested quantity — a few dozen fever-reducing pills, a few bandages, and no diarrhea treatment or necessary medicinal herbs to prevent the disease from spreading.

"Is that all?" Tinh Yen asked, trying to keep her voice calm in front of the warehouse manager who was dispensing medicine, a young man who looked awkward.

"Doctor Do, please excuse me. This is the total amount Lord Chu allowed to be released in this batch." The warehouse manager replied, avoiding her eyes. "He said we need to keep most of the reserves in case the city is besieged for a long time, and cannot release it all right now."

Tinh Yen felt anger rising in her heart, but she knew arguing with a low-ranking warehouse manager wouldn't solve anything. She nodded, took the small amount of medicine, then turned to Dinh Ba Kham, her eyes full of questioning.

"I will find a way to talk directly with Lord Chu." Dinh Ba Kham said, his voice heavy. "But you should also prepare yourself, he is a person who is very difficult to shake once he has decided something, no matter how good the reason is."

That night, when Tinh Yen returned to check baby Tep one last time before resting, she saw that the baby's fever had subsided somewhat, sleeping in a small corner of the tent reserved as a temporary quarantine area. She sat down next to him for a long time, looking at the little sleeping face, a steely determination arose in her heart that this time, she would not let the history of Lach Dua repeat itself again, no matter how much effort and sleepless nights it cost her.

Nhuoc Lan sat with her for a while longer, the two of them took turns taking short naps next to the tent frame, neither of them wanted to leave while baby Tep was still sleeping in a fever that had not completely gone away. There were times when the girl stirred, her tiny hands clutching Tinh Yen's shirt tightly as if afraid of something in her dream, and Tinh Yen could only gently comfort her, whispering meaningless but necessary words of reassurance, just like how Mrs. Khue used to do with her on the nights when she was young, sick with fever in the middle of that cottage in Lach Dua.

"Are you going to stay up all night?" Nhuoc Lan asked softly, seeing that Tinh Yen still had no intention of leaving even though it was very late.

"I just want to make sure, if she gets worse, someone will be right by her side." Tinh Yen replied, her voice small but determined. "I don't want any child to have to face a fever alone in the middle of the night, with no one around, like I've seen too many times."

Nhuoc Lan didn't say anything more, just quietly pulled the thin blanket to cover little Tep, then sat down next to Tinh Yen, guarding together in silence, the flickering oil lamp light illuminating two faces that were clearly marked with tired lines but had not relaxed their vigilance for a minute.

Far away outside the citadel wall, the alarm drums rang out in short bursts, signaling that a group of North Dich reconnaissance troops had just appeared near the southern supply road - the last road still connecting Nghinh Phong citadel to the outside world, and now, it seemed to be starting to be tightened day by day.