"Does it work or not?"
"Good, let’s step aside for a talk."
Wen Ru extended an invitation for a private chat with Liang Fatty. There were several colleagues still in the office, and even though they were engrossed in discerning the pathology slices under the microscopes, the office was, after all, an office. Even speaking in hushed tones couldn’t prevent words from leaking out.
The two stood up and moved to the resting room, which was momentarily unoccupied.
Among Sanbo Hospital’s three renowned "brain celebrities," currently, only Xu Zhiliang had a girlfriend, while the other two were still bachelors.
In truth, Wen Ru already had someone in his heart, a female doctor from the hospital’s tumor department. However, he didn’t know how to make a move and recently heard that the doctor had a suitor, a young civil servant at the level of a section chief.
Facing such a perilous romantic landscape, Wen Ru felt compelled to take action to save himself. According to Sanbo Hospital legend, once Fatty Liang obtained a certain secret tome, his love luck blossomed instantly, and his love story with a flight attendant began.
As the two entered the resting room, all the colleagues who had been looking down at the tissue sections raised their heads, then exchanged glances, all turning their eyes towards the resting room. After a moment, everyone tacitly understood and immediately began a discussion about a special case.
"I heard Doctor Wen is pursuing a female doctor in the tumor department?" someone broached the topic in line with the crowd’s interest.
Someone immediately chimed in, "Yes, her name is Zhang Huijie. I heard he even wrote her a love letter, and Zhang Lin knows what it says."
Everyone quickly gathered around.
"I want to cut your heart into slices, then place them under a microscope and spend a lifetime slowly understanding them—" the person in the know shared the contents of the letter.
Horror! Chills ran down everyone’s spines!
Some thought this sounded less like a love letter and more like a terrifying micro-novel.
"Do you know? The female doctor replied to the letter."
"The tumor department’s female doctor replied: ’The time spent reading slides is too long, and the professional level needs improvement.’"
The doctors from the pathology department dug into Wen Ru’s romantic life like storytelling, and as the conversation continued, it ended up having the effect of a horror movie.
At that moment, the door to the resting room opened, and Wen Ru and Liang Fatty emerged. Doctor Wen’s face bore a smile, radiant like twin peach blossoms.
Lu Jiangbei was incredibly fortunate; according to Robert, she was the kind who’d have dragons and phoenixes soaring from her ancestral graves.
An on-site atlantoaxial dislocation with comminuted fracture of the atlas, yet she was still alive; from the scene to the hospital, to the operating room, the various transfers were handled with great care by Director Wei’s splint, preventing any mishap; then encountering Yang Ping as the chief surgeon. Truth be told, nationwide there were only a handful of surgeons daring to perform such surgery, and those able to do it well were even fewer, leaving not many at all.
Every successful step from the site to the operating room was a highly improbable event. If success missed even once, the outcome would have been death.
But she had been lucky at every turn, a stroke of fortune amid misfortune.
After the surgery, Lu Jiangbei’s limb muscle strength began to slowly recover, reaching level five, which is normal strength, implying nearly no significant disability post-surgery.
With level five muscle strength, breathing independently wasn’t an issue. She quickly weaned off the ventilator, and the lung infection was wholly controlled without relapse. Two weeks after surgery, she was transferred from the trauma ICU back to the Comprehensive Surgery Department.
The next step for Lu Jiangbei was a third surgery—to manage the pelvic fractures. Although the treatment was cumbersome, it ultimately saved a life.
After a day busy with surgeries, it was time to clock out. Yang Ping and the surgeons of the Comprehensive Surgery Department were discussing cases, and Professor Zhang Zongshun also joined in.
They reviewed all of today’s surgeries and then briefly discussed tomorrow’s surgeries before focusing on Lu Jiangbei’s treatment.
Professor Zhang Zongshun was particularly interested in Lu Jiangbei’s case. He often visited the ward to see her and frequently discussed the development of cranial base-upper cervical surgery with Yang Ping.
After all, in his time, that type of surgery was a spinal surgeon’s nightmare—a fifty-fifty chance of survival was considered the pinnacle of success.
After discussing the cases, Professor Zhang strode up and down the ward corridor with his hands behind his back. The interns, standardized training students, and graduate students immediately grew tense, everyone scrutinizing whether their white gown’s buttons were aligned, collars correctly turned out, if there were remnants of green vegetables on their teeth, or if their chests were held high.
A doctor ready to change a patient’s dressing decided to delay, fearing Professor Zhang might suddenly appear at his side, a situation laden with pressure.
The old gentleman strolled around a few laps. Zhang Lin and Xiaowu were busy focusing on revisions, and Fatty Liang was also busy with something recently, making it hard to even gather a team to play a game.
Professor Zhang, realizing everyone was busy and it was hard to gather a team at the moment, decided to head back to the Tri-Bo Club to practice his tai chi push hands.
His tai chi contest with Su Butong had been challenged for some time. Although they had yet to battle, neither had slackened in their preparations, each secretly competing, rigorously training, hoping to emerge victorious in a decisive battle.
Su Butong’s skills were not to be underestimated. Rumor had it he regularly trained in the gym and his muscular body was the real deal. For the battle preparations, he also hired a professional coach for daily practical training.
Zhang Zongshun was no different; nearly monopolizing the Tri-Bo Hotel Club’s fighting area, with several professional coaches taking turns to provide hands-on guidance for his combat techniques.
Dean Xia was anxious and on edge, worried about an eighty-year-old engaging in such rough activities every day. A slight mishap could lead to broken arms or legs. It had happened before, and this stubborn old man was not easy to stop.