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Chapter 968: The Son Returns

Joseph, recalling the barefoot doctor system from his previous life, continued:

"These quasi-doctors usually farm, and if someone in the village gets sick, they go to their home to treat them.

"These quasi-doctors will be managed by the government. The government will subsidize them 8 francs per month, and the village will provide an additional 5 francs. I believe many people would be willing to take on this work."

In rural France, earning an additional 13 francs a month would be incredibly appealing. After all, an adult male farmer typically only earned a little over 20 francs a month.

"As for medical equipment and medicines, they will be regularly distributed by the government, and the quasi-doctors will only be responsible for their safekeeping."

France currently has over 36,000 villages and towns. Including cities, roughly 40,000 quasi-doctors would be needed. This means that with an annual government subsidy of 3.8 million francs, a basic national healthcare system could be supported.

This sum might seem substantial, but the reduction in labor force mortality alone, thanks to the healthcare system, would yield several times that amount in returns.

Joseph considered for a moment, then added, "So many tasks will require a dedicated department to manage them. Yes, we'll establish a 'Bureau of Medical Health' under the Ministry of Civil Affairs, responsible for all matters related to medicine and pharmaceuticals."

Perna immediately responded with excitement, "Your Highness, then let's have each village and town select suitable quasi-doctors as soon as possible and send them to the nearest city for training."

Joseph shook his head with a smile. "The quasi-doctors still have to farm. If you make them leave their villages, there will certainly be opposition. Moreover, even if they were willing, it would be difficult to train so many people gathered together."

"What should we do then?"

Joseph continued, borrowing from his knowledge of later eras: "We'll send doctors to the countryside to teach them. No, even the selection of quasi-doctors will be handled by doctors.

"This way, doctors can also take them along to treat patients, teaching them faster and making a deeper impression."

Perna hesitated. "Your Highness, it might be difficult to find so many doctors willing to go to the countryside."

Doctors were a high-status profession in this era, and most would be unwilling to take on such dirty and strenuous work.

Joseph immediately declared, "The students from the Royal Military Medical University are more than capable of this task. Furthermore, the medical departments of the University of Paris and Toulouse University collectively number at least a thousand people."

Perna still frowned. "But the medical students probably won't agree either..."

"We'll add practical assessments," Joseph declared, snapping his fingers. "Having students interact more with patients is also a way to gain experience.

"Without practical experience in the countryside, they won't receive assessment points. If the quasi-doctors they train fail, their own assessment will also be a failure. Of course, the Bureau of Medical Health will provide them with a certain stipend for their rural work.

"This way, medical students across the country can participate in practical training in batches. Within two or three years, most villages and towns will have their own quasi-doctors."

Joseph then looked at Perna. "And the most important task must still be completed by you."

"The most important task? What is it?"

"The 'Quasi-Doctor's Operating Manual'," Joseph stated. "You can gather some capable doctors to compile it. The content must be simple and easy to understand, preferably with plenty of illustrations. The recommended medicines should also primarily be those that are inexpensive."

Perna nodded vigorously. "Yes, Your Highness, I promise not to disappoint you!"

After breakfast, Joseph and Perna meticulously planned the details of the national healthcare system. That same afternoon, Perna eagerly rushed back to the Royal Military Medical University to select experts for compiling the manual.

No sooner had Joseph found a moment of respite than Queen Marie pulled him away to enjoy a new composition by Luigi Cherubini.

In the concert hall of the Petit Trianon, Cherubini was still tuning his instrument when Joseph casually picked up a copy of the Paris Business Journal nearby. His gaze immediately fell upon the headline: "Let the Glory of Versailles Dispel Europe's Long Night."

Seeing the title, he initially assumed it was penned by one of the "Yilin-style" journalists he had trained. However, upon checking the byline, he discovered the article was reprinted from the Palatinate Morning Post, and its author was Austrian.

He skimmed the article again and felt his scalp tingle — the author had practically deified him. Indeed, even Caesar and Alexander, reborn, would likely prostrate themselves in admiration for Joseph after reading this piece.

What surprised Joseph most was that the article wasn't baseless flattery. It was composed of eighty percent fact and twenty percent praise, making it well-reasoned and exceptionally smooth.

He grew increasingly curious about this Austrian, and immediately gestured to Eman. "Please summon Mr. Denico to see me."

"Yes, Your Highness."

After his mother's private concert concluded, Joseph yawned as he returned to his chambers, finding Mr. Denico, editor-in-chief of the Paris Business Journal — "the voice of the monarchy" — already waiting in the drawing room.

Once the editor had bowed, Joseph went straight to the point. "Do you recall the article on the front page of today's Business Journal?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The article was exceptionally well-written, so I purchased its publishing rights."

"Are you familiar with its author?"

"I have some knowledge, Your Highness," Denico replied. "In fact, I've been considering inviting him to join the newspaper.

"Ah, he's a Viennese man named Rabaud Tobias von Schérer, a minor noble.

"After the Vienna riots, he wrote extensively, mostly advocating for the Liberals, but recently his writings have been very positive towards our country."

Joseph nodded. "Please invite him to join the newspaper as soon as possible. I happen to need a talent like him for some work in Portugal."

"As you command, Your Highness," Denico bowed, then added with some difficulty, "However, he's currently handling a lawsuit in Vienna, and I don't know when it will conclude."

"A lawsuit?"

"I heard his son participated in the riots and might be executed."

"Alright, I'll have someone handle it," Joseph told Eman. "Please send for Archbishop Talleyrand."

"Yes, Your Highness."

...

Half a month later.

Vienna.

In a dilapidated small building, Mrs. Schérer forcefully crammed a tin makeup box into a leather trunk.

However, the trunk seemed to have endured too much hardship; two seams on its side suddenly burst open, and the leather on its surface peeled back.

The woman numbly shook her head. "I'll have to find Fabian to fix it."

"Leave that thing," Baron Schérer said, frowning and waving his hand. "Throw away whatever you can. We certainly won't need them once we reach Huszth anyway."

Their youngest son, Lukas, had been sentenced last week. His life was spared, but he was to be exiled to Huszth for 25 years of forced labor.

They decided to go with him, hoping they might still have a chance to look after their son.

Knock-knock, the door sounded.

"Who is it?" Schérer asked impatiently. "This place has been vacated. If you have business, please find the landlord."

The persistent knocking continued.

Schérer walked over and forcefully pulled open the door.

He froze for a moment, then closed the door and turned to his wife. 'I must have been sleepless for too long; I'm hallucinating... I thought I just saw Lukas outside.'