Chapter 127: If They Refuse?

The list continued changing as the doctors brought more and more information to Qinghe.

Three battery-operated monitors could be replaced with manual checks every 15 minutes.

Two medication pumps supported drugs that could be safely administered through gravity-fed lines.

A patient listed as dependent on continuous oxygen had maintained acceptable levels during a brief interruption earlier that evening.

Every person removed from the powered list created room for someone else.

But it also created work.

The hospital staff would have to monitor breathing, count pulses, adjust manual lines and deliver medication without the equipment that normally protected them from small errors.

The solution preserved electricity by consuming the attention of people who hadn’t slept.

"How many nurses remain on the surgical floor?" Qinghe asked when the second round of assessments arrived.

His mother checked the staffing record. "Twenty-one, including four who were ordered to leave at midnight."

"Keep them if they consent, but divide everyone into two-hour rotations." Qinghe reviewed the converted treatments and calculated how many patients each nurse could monitor safely. "No one manually ventilates for longer than 20 minutes without relief. Pair every nurse with an aide or family member who can call for help."

"There are no family members in Ward C," his father reminded him. "The hospital stopped visitors after the entrances became unsafe."

Jingwei heard the problem and opened the hospital security roster.

Several guards had basic first-aid certification, while nonclinical employees remained inside administrative offices because travel home was impossible.

"There are 46 employees in the eastern building who aren’t assigned to patient care," Jingwei said. He sent the roster to Qinghe. "Some can carry supplies, track intervals and relieve medical staff from work that doesn’t require training."

Qinghe forwarded the names to his parents. "Use them. Anyone physically capable can transport water, record readings or stand beside a bed and call a nurse when something changes."

His father’s mouth tightened at the idea of turning accountants and clerks into ward assistants, but he didn’t reject it.

Normal staffing standards had belonged to a hospital where replacements could arrive for the morning shift.

That hospital no longer existed.

With 19 minutes remaining, the powered transfer list dropped to 28 patients.

The eastern generator could support 26.

Two more people still had to be removed.

Qinghe returned to the third category.

One patient had suffered irreversible neurological injury several weeks earlier.

His family had requested continued ventilation while pursuing another consultation, but no specialist had reached the hospital before the Heat closed the roads.

The newest examination confirmed that his condition hadn’t changed.

The second was an 82-year-old man in multisystem organ failure. Powered support could prolong his life, but his physicians agreed that it wouldn’t reverse the damage.

Qinghe read both files completely.

His parents waited without speaking.

They knew which names remained, but they had asked him to make the decision because distance allowed him to see medical outcomes where they still saw faces.

"Contact both families if communications are available," he instructed. "Explain that the western generator is shutting down and the hospital cannot continue the current level of support. Allow them to speak to the patients before withdrawal."

His mother held his gaze through the screen. "The first patient’s family refused withdrawal three days ago."

"They refused when continued treatment didn’t require removing support from someone with a recoverable condition." Qinghe’s voice remained quiet, though the decision pressed against every word. "The circumstances have changed."

"And if they still refuse?"

Qinghe looked at the other 26 patients whose survival depended on receiving power before midnight.

"Document the refusal. Then transfer the available equipment according to medical priority," he answered with a sigh.

He wasn’t being ruthless or cruel, this was simply triage on a higher level.

His mother closed her eyes for one second before nodding.

She didn’t ask whether he was certain.

None of them could be certain that the young man with lung damage would survive or that the elderly patient in organ failure wouldn’t recover beyond expectation.

Triage didn’t provide certainty.

It prevented uncertainty from consuming every available resource until no one survived.

The first family answered.

Their grief filled the hospital corridor while a physician explained the power failure and held a phone beside the unresponsive patient.

They protested, demanded another generator and threatened people who had no power to change the decision.

The hospital allowed them five minutes.

The second patient had no reachable relatives. His chart identified a daughter in another province, but every call failed before connecting.

His father remained beside the bed instead.

Dr. Wen adjusted the man’s medication for comfort, then returned to the corridor with two minutes left before shutdown. The final beds were already moving toward the surgical wing.

Qinghe watched each transfer appear on the eastern power grid. The generator load increased as respiratory equipment, pumps and monitors connected one after another.

Ninety-one percent.

Ninety-four.

Ninety-seven.

The hospital administrator warned that they had exceeded the preferred operating level.

Shichen reviewed the generator specifications and confirmed that the load could remain there temporarily, but no additional high-demand equipment could be activated.

At 23:59, Ward C still held 15 patients.

Nurses had converted every treatment they could manage manually.

Administrative staff carried water and recorded observations, while security guards moved empty beds away from the doors to improve airflow.

Qinghe’s mother returned to the two patients losing powered support.

His father remained with one. She took the other.

The clock changed to midnight.

The western generator shut down.

Half the hospital disappeared into darkness across the electrical plans. Emergency lights activated along the corridors, but the cooling system, outlets and remaining monitors in Ward C went silent together.

On the communications wall, Qinghe’s parents remained visible through the light of a battery-powered tablet.

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then a single alarm began sounding from the surgical wing.

The alarm came from the eastern generator.

Its load climbed past 100 percent before dropping to 99, then rose again as the equipment attempted to draw more power than the system could provide.

Shichen opened the electrical controls beside the hospital floor plans. "Something activated after the transfer."