18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 329

Grannyvine's vine was just an old wives' tale, Stella recounted the description of the herb, "I'm not exactly sure what it's called. It was purchased by my family from some expensive specialty shop, and they said it was a secret remedy."

Dr. Garcia chuckled in disbelief, "This herb isn't Grannyvine's vine, it's called Mountain Whisper, known for its antibacterial and itch-relieving properties for respiratory viruses. But it's incredibly finicky about its growing environment, thriving only on the edges of mountain cliffs.”

“The extreme weather on the mountains perhaps contributes to its unique medicinal properties. Cultivated versions can't hold a candle to the real thing, with less than one percent of the efficacy, which is why it never became mainstream. With industrial pollution wreaking havoc on the environment, this herb is nearly extinct. It's no wonder it's been removed from many textbooks, so it's normal that you youngsters haven't heard of it."

Stella was astonished, "I see, that's amazing."

Its harsh growing conditions made cultivation and widespread use impossible, but somehow, her Arcadia had managed to grow it. Was this a miracle, or some unspoken stroke of fate?

Stella and Jasper's healing process reinforced Dr. Garcia's belief that his research was on the right track. Short-handed as he was, he decided to keep Stella and Jasper on.

Stella continued with her autopsies, while Jasper, who had been learning a wealth of medical knowledge under Professor Stella's tutelage, assisted Dr. Garcia.

Unable to handle everything alone, Stella took on an apprentice, a worker from the research institute. She was in her late twenties, slender, with a slight limp in her walk, "Professor Stella, I'm Lindsay, I'm looking forward to working with you."

What? Stella was thunderstruck.

Even in protective gear, her gossip radar was off the charts, sizing up "Lindsay" from head to toe, "Both your legs are broken?"

Lindsay was stunned, "Yes."

With broken legs and after being swept away by a storm, she was still kicking.

The thing is, after seven years post-apocalypse, which doctor wasn't skin and bones? Although Lindsay was slender, her skin was glowing and radiant. Bentley's taste was indeed not simple.

But work was pressing, no time for bloody gossip.

Facing the gruesome autopsies that Stella once heaved at, Lindsay, though a bit nauseous, was exceptionally composed, her demeanor hinting at professionalism.

That was right, anyone who had been through Bentley's wringer and came back was a top-notch talent.

After dissecting several critical cases, all previously treated patients, they found a noticeable difference in the degree of liver and lung variation compared to those who hadn't received treatment.

Stella, with detailed autopsy data in hand, went to see Dr. Garcia, then visited Collin and Hugh.

Collin was very weak, coughing as though he might expel his lungs at any moment.

Stella handed him a jar of honey syrup, "My family made this. It seems effective. You might want to try it."

Collin wasn't sure about Stella's family financial status, but families that made a living off of herbs cultivation had grown tremendously wealthy in recent years. Without any pretense, Collin felt somewhat relieved by having landed himself a wealthy student.

After leaving Collin's quarters, Stella decided to also gift Hugh a jar.

A little kid, around five or six years old, opened the door with a childish voice, "Hello, who are you looking for?"

My goodness, Stella nearly dropped the loquat syrup in shock. This was a mini version of Bentley.

"Doctor Stella?" Lindsay emerged from the house, surprised, "What brings you here?"

"I-I came to see Professor Hugh." Why was she feeling so flustered?

With the virus rampant, Lindsay couldn't invite Stella inside, "Professor Hugh's still sick. He's isolated in the back room."

Stella handed over the syrup, "This is good for coughs. Give it to Professor Hugh try it."

As she turned to leave, her curiosity got the better of her, "I'm one of Professor Hugh's students. Are you his wife?"

Lindsay paused, then quickly clarified, "No, you've got it wrong. Professor Hugh is my sworn brother, and uncle to my son."

Ah, the classic dramatic twist. She wondered if Professor Hugh was the second male lead or the eighteenth?

Thinking of the student-teacher bond, Stella had the sudden urge to shake Professor Hugh awake: Get a grip, she belongs to Bentley, stop chasing her, it won't end well for you.

But it was just a thought; she wisely walked away.

After days of recuperation, Jasper, Stella and Cooper showed no signs of relapse, and Rosie was recovering too.

They had fought a prepared battle, but their bodies bore the strain, weakened and breathless with the slightest exertion—recovery would take time.

As the government rationed food, a porridge of corn and lichen was served, but with the constant influx of patients, how much could actually reach the doctors' mouths?

Many doctors had fallen to the smog virus, never to rise again, and even those still fighting were severely weakened.

200 pounds of aged rice, batches of cured fish and meats, beans, soybeans, and black beans were all ground into powder for easy soy milk preparation.

Stella donated these to the research institute in her family's name, grateful for their lifesaving help. Whether they consumed it themselves or shared it with patients, that was none of her business. It was her gesture of gratitude; without Professor Collin and the institute's aid, her family might not have survived the disaster.

She gave ten extra eggs as a special token for her two teachers.

Hearing that Dr. Garcia enjoyed a fine green tea, she had Jasper deliver a some.

Rosie was also cured, her complexion not as rosy as before but still better than most. Rosie didn't sit idle either, joining the volunteer team.

With antibodies sure, the trio took no chances, maintaining strict protective measures.

Stella continued with autopsies, but with no significant changes over several days, she paused her work. Through countless clinical trials, Dr. Garcia had nearly unraveled the virus's scheming against the liver and lungs.

Victory was hard-won, through many a twist and turn. Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

Nearly a month into the smog outbreak, despite years of government preparation, the consumption of herbs accelerated beyond expectations.

The research institute could only cultivate based on past experiences, but the key herbs to combat the smog virus, Dragonlily and Mountain Whisper, were precious rarities that defied cultivation.

They had perfected the formula, yet the dwindling supply of herbs was a grim reality facing an ever- growing number of patients.

Every moment, countless patients writhed in pain, clinging to hope for a cure that might arrive in time.

Dr. Garcia removed his reading glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, which suddenly brimmed with moisture. After the wave of discomfort passed, he didn't succumb to despair. Instead, he made a bold decision—to concoct a concentrated pill, aiming to obliterate the virus in one fell swoop.

Every coin has two sides. This approach could conserve precious ingredients and potentially save more lives, but it also posed a greater risk of side effects on the body.

Stella asked, "What kind of side effects are we talking about?"