Heaven knows how he managed to keep his appearance so exquisite and decent after encountering such a terrifying plane crash.
Except for a little dust on his suit jacket and his hair being slightly messy, he looked like he had just walked out of an office building in Manhattan, ready to attend an afternoon tea.
Could it be that he, like me, was not a passenger on this plane, but a survivor from some other yacht shipwreck?
But I had never seen this person on this island before?
At this thought, Alice couldn't help but take a few more looks at this man in a suit.
With this look, she almost couldn't help but laugh out loud.
This guy's appearance was truly too distinctive.
He had an incredibly long face, high cheekbones, deep eye sockets, and a meticulously trimmed goatee.
That face was so long that two idioms immediately popped into Alice's mind: A cow doesn't know its horns are curved, a horse doesn't know its face is long.
Hmm, anyway, it was just a long face.
This was a kind of aristocratic temperament that made people unforgettable.
The long-faced man in the suit walked to the side of the young man, not rushing to act, but first scanned the surrounding environment with a scrutinizing gaze, then looked at Alice and the curly-haired uncle, his eyes carrying a professional pickiness.
Then, he elegantly crouched down, extended his slender hands, gently pressed a few acupoints on the injured person's leg, and carefully examined the depth of the wound and the position of the iron piece.
"I am a neurosurgeon."
He looked up and introduced himself indifferently, his tone as flat as if he were saying 'I am God'.
Alice's eyes lit up.
Neurosurgery, that was the pearl on the crown of surgeons.
Someone who could perform craniotomies definitely had top-tier precision in their hands.
"Sir, do you mean to say that you cannot treat this simple trauma?" Alice asked deliberately using a skeptical goading tactic.
The long-faced man fell for it, or rather, his pride did not allow him to be questioned.
He smiled slightly, that smile carrying thirty percent sarcasm and seventy percent confidence, then answered with a leisurely posture, as if he were giving a lecture to medical students: "Although I am a top neurosurgeon in the U.S., that does not mean I don't understand basic surgery. On the contrary, as long as basic surgical conditions are met, handling this kind of rough mechanical trauma emergency surgery is not much harder for me than cutting a steak."
Upon hearing that it could be treated, the curly-haired uncle was overjoyed and hurriedly asked: "That's great, what conditions do you need? We will cooperate fully."
The long-faced man stood up, hands in his suit trousers pockets, and listed a whole bunch of professional terms without hesitation.
"I need a number 10 scalpel, a hemostat, a needle holder, 3-0 non-absorbable sutures, a large amount of normal saline to flush the wound, and, it would be best to have a dose of lidocaine for local anesthesia, as well as tetanus antitoxin..."
He spoke extremely fast, as if reciting a list of treasures.
Alice rolled her eyes as she listened and couldn't help but interrupt him: "Stop, stop, stop, Mr. Long-Face, please look around clearly. This is a deserted island, an air crash site, not your operating room. We don't have any of the things you mentioned. If you cannot adapt to local conditions, then this wounded person can only wait to die."
The long-faced man was stunned for a moment, looking around at the wreckage and the primeval forest all over the ground, seemingly only then switching back from the top Doctor role setting to survivor mode.
He frowned, and that critical expression appeared again.
"Tsk, what a terrible working environment."
He curled his lips in disgust, thought for a moment, and then quickly simplified the surgical conditions, showing his ability to adapt.
"Fine, if there are no standard instruments like knives, scissors, forceps, and tweezers, then I at least need a needle, the thinner the better, and some tough thread. Hmm, I also need an extremely sharp blade to cut through the flesh. Finally, and most importantly, we need something to disinfect. For example, high-proof spirits, or a lighter to start a fire."
"These things might be found in the luggage!"
Alice reacted the fastest, pointing to the colorful suitcases and backpacks scattered all over the beach.
"Everyone split up and look, quick."
"Good idea!" The curly-haired uncle also started moving.
The three temporarily formed a makeshift search and rescue team, starting to rummage through that pile of messy belongings.
Alice rummaged through several luggage bags soaked by seawater, but gained nothing except soaked clothes and cosmetics.
At this moment, she saw a bald middle-aged man struggling to fish out a brown leather luggage bag that looked very high-end from the seawater.
That bald man looked very disheveled, one lens of his glasses was broken, and he was wearing a torn shirt.
"Sir, do you have a needle, thread, and a lighter?"
Unexpectedly, as soon as she spoke, the bald middle-aged man was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, immediately hugging that luggage bag tightly, staring at her with a face full of defense and vigilance, his body shrinking backward.
"No, there's nothing in here, these are my personal items, stay away from me! Don't even think about snatching my things."
He screamed, his eyes full of fear.
Alice glanced at the bulging luggage bag, frowned, and turned to leave.
There is always a way out.
Just as she was preparing to rummage through the next box, she saw a pink Hello Kitty small backpack in a sand pit not far away.
It looked like the belongings of some little girl or young lady.
She opened the backpack, and inside was a pink plush toy, a few packs of snacks, and an exquisite portable sewing kit.
Alice was overjoyed.
Not only that, she also found a man's blade-style manual razor in the side pocket of the backpack.
She skillfully disassembled the razor and removed the blade inside, which was as thin as a cicada's wing yet gleaming with a cold light.
The sharpness of this blade should barely be able to replace a scalpel.
She gripped the sewing kit and the blade tightly in her hand and was about to run back.
From over there came the excited voice of the curly-haired uncle.
"I found it, I found a small bottle of liquor, this is Russian vodka, I saw on the label that the alcohol content is very high, perhaps it can be used for disinfection."
The curly-haired uncle was holding a flat liquor bottle shaped like a hand grenade, running back as if showing off a trophy.
Everything was ready.
Alice and the curly-haired uncle hurried back to the wounded person with the supplies.
However, when they returned to the spot, they found that the long-faced neurosurgeon was holding something in his hand, with a face full of surprise and intoxication.
As if he had picked up Aladdin's lamp on the beach.