I am a master in India

Chapter 17 Forced to Work
"Ron" Johnny, with a pale face, forced a smile.

He looked gravely ill, one arm hanging roughly from a torn T-shirt. Blood was gushing out, drop after drop, silently dripping onto the carpet.

"You don't look well, you should go to the hospital." Ron knew from just a glance that he was losing blood rapidly.

"No, we can't go to the hospital!" A man nearby waved his arms, strongly opposing the proposal.

"Sir, I know a little bit about medicine, and he really doesn't look well."

"Mr. Sur, are you a doctor?" At this moment, a strong voice came from the aisle.

Prak Hardhan, the foreign exchange black market boss whom Ron had only met once.

Although he was walking hurriedly, he didn't seem panicked at all. He must have just received the news and rushed over immediately.

"Are you a doctor?" Prak Hadhan repeated it after glancing at Johnny.

"I'm not a doctor, but I've received emergency rescue training. Johnny's current condition looks like he's lost too much blood. It won't be long before he goes into shock."

Ron had received such training in his previous life, and Johnny was someone he often met here, so he didn't want anything to happen to his friend.

"Then you are a doctor now. Go get the first aid kit." Prak Hadhan made a firm decision and turned to instruct the people around him.

Without giving Ron a chance to explain, an oversized first aid kit was quickly handed over by everyone.

They gathered in a circle and stared at Ron closely, their eyes seemed to say: Doctor, help!
Ron, who was forced to do the job, had no choice but to go forward and check Johnny's wound.

Lifting off the torn T-shirt, Ron gasped, "The wound is serious, Mr. Hardhan."

It was a long, deep cut, running from the shoulder almost to the elbow, with a large triangle of leather, like a coat lapel, protruding from the wound.

"He needs to see a real doctor and get stitches. You shouldn't have brought him here."

"Hospital, no! Ron." Johnny cried.

"He can't go to the hospital, at least not today." There was an unquestionable look in Purak Hadhan's eyes.

The sound of police car sirens could be heard outside the window. The iron door of the corridor on the third floor had been sealed, and the whole room was dead silent.

Ron's forehead was covered with sweat before he knew it. Without saying a word, he opened the first aid kit and began to count the items.

There are medical needles, silk threads, disinfectants, and some miscellaneous topical medicines.

"Go boil some water and boil all these knives and needles."

Conditions are limited, so this is all we can do for now. After giving the order, Ron began to examine the wound.

The more he looked, the less sure he was. "I've never sewed up such a big wound before. I'm afraid I can't do it."

"He can't go to the hospital, Mr. Soul, so please feel free to do it."

"If you give me the tools, I can do it myself." Johnny suppressed the pain and hissed.

Bang! Prak Hadhan slapped the back of his head in anger.

Johnny's eyes were wide open. He was afraid and terrified, but also determined.

"Okay, I'll do it." Ron compromised, "But it will hurt. There's no anesthetic here."

"It hurts!" Johnny shouted happily in a deep voice, "It doesn't matter if it hurts, as long as you are willing to save me!"

Ron had no time for joking. He asked everyone to put Johnny on the sofa and cover his shoulders with a blanket.

The boiling water was brought up. Ron washed his hands and used disinfectant to clean Johnny's wound.

After wiping it dry with clean gauze, he wrapped his arm tightly with another piece of gauze.

Do this for ten minutes to allow the wound to close, making it easier to sew.

"Give him some sweet tea."

Johnny was already drowsy, and replenishing sugar could alleviate the symptoms of shock.

Despite this, he remained calm and trusted Ron very much.

Before taking action, Ron also took a sip of tea to suppress the tension in his heart.

Without meeting anyone's gaze, he lowered his head and began to sew.

The needle was curved and thin, so Ron used tweezers with it, but the first few stitches were very messy.

The wound was slippery and difficult to fix with his fingers. Johnny's facial muscles twitched and twisted under his movements, but he did not scream.

By the fifth or sixth stitch, he had found the feeling and grasped the trick, and even Johnny was no longer in pain. Human skin is tougher than it looks, and suturing is relatively easy. The thread can be pulled very tight without tearing the tissue.

But this process was by no means enjoyable. Every time the needle was pricked, Ron himself felt pain.

Despite the air conditioning in the room, Ron was still sweating profusely by the time the stitching was finished.

"Put a bandage on him and remember to check the wound and change the dressing every other day."

"See, Ron, I told you it would be okay." Johnny smiled.

"Don't be too happy too soon, you will have a long and ugly scar."

"I have no shortage of women."

A burst of laughter broke out in the room, and the atmosphere suddenly became lively.

Prak Hadhan waved his hand and asked everyone to take Johnny downstairs to rest.

"This is very risky. If I mess up, he will die here." Ron was a little unhappy with him forcing himself to save people, although deep down he would make the same decision in the end.

"You underestimate yourself. You are a qualified doctor."

"I said, I just received some basic training."

"Ron, can I call you that?"

Ron gave him that Indian head shake, and the latter immediately laughed.

"I'm not kidding. In India, your level is good enough to be a doctor."

This sounds like a compliment, but it is also a tragedy for India as a whole.

"How did he get into this?" Ron changed the subject.

"It was a gang fight, he was attacked by surprise, with razors and axes."

Ron said nothing, as he expected. Beneath Mumbai's peaceful facade, violence was rife.

In some bloody fights, even the police dared to stand aside, and the government was helpless.

"By the way, are you here to exchange money today?"

"Yes, I still have the last bit on me."

Prak Hade Khan took out a cigarette and lit it, thinking quietly.

"I heard your business is doing well recently?"

"We barely make ends meet, relying on foreigners for a living."

"That's great. They're not short of money, and you have a good business sense."

Ron couldn't understand what he was thinking and could only remain silent.

"If you have any problems in the future, you can always come to Johnny. He knows where I am."

"Thank you, Mr. Khadhan."

"Call me Khaderbhai."

"What?" Ron was startled. He looked up and knew the meaning of the word "bye".

But the other party only left him with his back and a nonchalant wave.

He glanced at the other people in the room in confusion, and everyone gathered around and patted his shoulders affectionately.

It was a smile that came from the heart, like a greeting between family members.

Just when Ron thought that there would be extra benefits for him today, such as an increase in the exchange rate.

When I got the money and counted it, it was no different from usual.

Well, with this wave of private exchanges totaling nearly US$3,000, he has already made a profit of more than 17,000 rupees.

Next it’s time to work on his own company, and he already has a goal.

Victoria Station is a great place.

(End of this chapter)