Chapter 104:

Although some “interesting incidents” occurred that night, none of them affected the evening’s rest. After all, everyone present was well aware that the main event would be the competition starting the next day.

Even the South Koreans, who had lost face, didn’t dwell on it for too long. In their view, it was merely a minor embarrassment—something that might circulate within their circle for a while. Once the competition began, as long as they secured an impressive result, especially by crushing the morale of the Chinese team, everything would be resolved!

As for their performance, given the trump card they had prepared, they had no doubts about their success.

With such a mindset, all national teams managed to get ample rest.

The next morning at nine o’clock was the time designated by the organizers for assembly.

All teams arrived punctually.

Boarding the buses arranged by the organizers, the group set off for Rodeo Drive. Oh, the buses were specially requested by the organizers from the elected mayor of Beverly Hills, as parking spaces were extremely scarce in the area. Without prior approval, parking would have been impossible. Securing this arrangement was largely thanks to the deep-pocketed sponsors.

Rodeo Drive is the luxury shopping hub of Beverly Hills, home to the most prestigious stores in Southern California, each with its own unique architectural style. For shopping enthusiasts, this place is paradise. Of course, if you’re short on cash, it might feel more like hell. The local saying, “Don’t ask the price—if you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” speaks volumes.

The participants in the competition undoubtedly came from well-off families, but few were extravagant spenders. Thus, most were intensely curious about this world-famous playground for the ultra-rich. Along the way, many discreetly peeked out the bus windows, careful not to appear unsophisticated.

Upon arriving at Rodeo Drive, they disembarked in an orderly fashion. The organizers had already arrived ahead of time to set up.

At the forefront stood Stanley Derek, surrounded by cameras. Today, he was impeccably dressed—his suit crisply pressed, his hair slicked back—exuding an air of authority. It was no surprise, given his reputation as a renowned American host.

Holding a microphone, he greeted the arriving contestants with a beaming smile, “Hello, my dears! We meet again!”

The contestants responded warmly to Stanley Derek’s greeting, showing no hesitation in front of the cameras. After all, they were all prominent figures in their schools, accustomed to attention.

Stanley Derek wasn’t the type of host who liked to keep people in suspense. He was direct and to the point. Once the contestants were ready, he immediately announced the rules for the first round of the competition:

“As medical professionals, we must learn to identify and understand our patients. Therefore, the first round is called ‘Find Your Patient.’ It is currently around 10 a.m. local time. Each team has been assigned a designated area. By 6 p.m., you must locate ten patients within your zone. These patients are individuals arranged by the organizers. Each patient found earns one point, and the first team to complete the task wins. Now, follow your camera crew to your assigned locations!”

The contestants were baffled by Stanley Derek’s announcement.

From the sound of it, they were supposed to find patients—but without any clues, how were they supposed to do that? By intuition?

The organizers, of course, wouldn’t leave them to rely on intuition. Each team was given a phone and instructed to monitor it closely, as the clues about the patients would be delivered via the device.

Before anyone could fully grasp the connection between the phones and the patients, the camera crews were already on the move. Reluctantly, the contestants followed.

Though it wasn’t yet the peak of midday heat, the sun was already scorching. The intense rays beat down on their faces, causing a stinging sensation. Even covered areas of their bodies offered little relief—stifling and sweltering.

Qin Chaoyu’s team was relatively lucky; their cameraman led them to their destination in just half an hour. Some teams had to walk for over an hour.

Standing under a large tree, Qin Chaoyu and her five teammates discussed their strategy.

Xing Weiyue: “Since the clues are tied to the phone, maybe the organizers will send us hints through it?”

Rong Zhen’er: “That makes sense, but they probably won’t make it too easy. We might have to put in some effort first.”

The other four agreed with their reasoning, but no one knew what kind of effort the organizers would demand. For now, their only option was to wait for further instructions.

They didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes later, the first message arrived:

*”When and where did the first recorded influenza pandemic occur?”*

This was a basic question in Western medicine—simple, but not something everyone would know. Unfortunately, the three traditional Chinese medicine students in Qin Chaoyu’s group couldn’t contribute much here.

The cameraman had already informed them that the organizers could hear everything they said, so they didn’t need to type their answers—they could respond verbally.

“1510, in England,” Luo Chenshe answered promptly, then turned to the others. “I enjoy reading about the history of diseases—it’s both entertaining and educational.”

A second message followed: *”Congratulations, that’s correct.”*

The six of them smiled. Then came the next clue: *”The first patient is wearing a white top.”*

A white top?

They scanned their surroundings. Their assigned area was at the back of Rodeo Drive, teeming with shoppers and tourists. Everyone seemed perfectly normal, and among the crowd, they spotted four or five people—both men and women—wearing white tops. They couldn’t possibly interrogate each one, could they?

Xing Weiyue frowned. “There are way too many people. We’ve already seen four or five, and there are probably more we haven’t noticed. Plus, this message specifies the *first* patient, meaning the others will require separate clues.”

“Exactly,” Si Liangxiao added. “We only have three hours—that’s eighteen minutes per patient, including walking time and answering questions. It’s tight. We need to move fast, and we don’t even know how frequently the organizers will send new clues.”

Rong Zhen’er: “Most importantly, we can’t split up too far, or we won’t be able to answer the questions together.”

Gao Xiangfei clapped his hands. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving!”

Xing Weiyue noticed Qin Chaoyu had been silent the whole time, lost in thought. He couldn’t help but ask, “Chaoyu, do you have any ideas?”

Qin Chaoyu snapped out of her reverie but didn’t voice her thoughts. She simply shook her head. “Not yet. Let’s proceed with your plan for now.”

With no better options, the six resorted to the most straightforward method: asking people one by one. At least their assigned area wasn’t too large—otherwise, this approach would have been hopeless.

Even so, with the heavy foot traffic, finding the right patient was no easy task. After their tenth unsuccessful inquiry, Xing Weiyue turned to Luo Chenshe, who was holding the phone. “Any new messages from the organizers?”

Luo Chenshe shook his head.

“Seems we’ll only get the next question after finding the first patient,” Xing Weiyue concluded.

Rong Zhen’er fanned herself vigorously, though the breeze was weak and still carried the heat. She was growing impatient. Half an hour had passed, and they hadn’t found a single patient. At this rate, how could they win?

Glancing at Qin Chaoyu, who looked perfectly composed, Rong Zhen’er asked in surprise, “Chaoyu, you’re not even sweating? Aren’t you hot?”

Qin Chaoyu: “I don’t sweat easily, and I tolerate heat well. So I’m fine.”

Rong Zhen’er wiped the sweat from her forehead and sighed enviously. “I’m so jealous. Look at me—my face is drenched. Thank goodness I didn’t wear makeup today, just sunscreen. Otherwise, I’d be a mess by now.”

Rong Zhen’er had wisely skipped makeup, avoiding disaster. But some of the more beauty-conscious contestants weren’t so lucky. Prolonged exposure to the sun was wreaking havoc on their carefully applied cosmetics—especially for those with oily skin.

Roland Randall could feel the stickiness on her face. She didn’t need a mirror to know how ridiculous she must look. Regret gnawed at her—why had she piled on so much foundation this morning?

She snapped at her teammates, “How much longer until we find the first patient? I can’t stand this godforsaken weather!”

Evan Tony, ever patient, tried to soothe her. “Darling, we have so little to go on. There’s no quick way to find them. Trust me, I’d love to be back at the hotel too, but that’s not happening.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, where is that patient hiding?” Roland muttered under her breath. Spotting a returning teammate, she demanded, “Harry, any luck?”

Harry Kozmo shook his head.

This scenario wasn’t unique to the Scottish team—contestants from all countries were struggling. The organizers’ clues were too vague, making it impossible to locate the patients quickly. The oppressive heat only exacerbated their frustration.

Had it not been for the cameras, some might have already lost their temper.

Finally, after forty minutes, Qin Chaoyu’s team found their first patient—a chatty Black man who complained they’d taken too long and that he’d grown bored waiting. The six exchanged wry smiles but didn’t argue.

Qin Chaoyu observed that while the man appeared healthy and energetic, he coughed intermittently—a low, hoarse sound. Though his skin tone made it hard to discern his complexion, she suspected he was actually ill, likely with a cold. Without further examination, she couldn’t pinpoint the cause, but recalling the earlier question from the organizers…

This was getting interesting.