Chapter 225: Hidden Standards

It seems that before Mr. Liu chose to pass on his lifelong medical notes to Zhou Can, he must have carefully evaluated Zhou Can’s character.

He trusted that Zhou Can was dependable and of sterling integrity—only then did he entrust him with the notes.

“Some people might fall short in character, but they have a remarkable talent for medicine. With so many layers of legal and hospital oversight, can we really fear them acting recklessly?”

Zhou Can asked, a bit puzzled.

No one is perfect; some may lack in integrity yet show extraordinary aptitude in medicine.

With proper guidance, such individuals have enormous potential.

Excluding them from the core of medical practice always seemed like a waste of talent to Zhou Can.

“Sure, one or two individuals with poor ethics might not be able to run amok under the current system. But once such a person climbs to a high position, he’ll find ways to band together with like-minded colleagues. When enough of them unite, they gain the power to disrupt every level of the hospital. We might not control what happens elsewhere, but Tuyu Hospital’s hard-won achievements must never be ruined by a few bad apples.”

Mr. Liu’s tone and expression were unyieldingly serious.

“Prevention always trumps cure. The best strategy is to bar these individuals from rising. Their capabilities are limited, so they can’t inflict major harm on Tuyu. I can assure you, I’m not alone in this thinking—nearly all the veteran staff at Tuyu share it.”

Hearing this, Zhou Can felt a surge of alarm.

It was the first time he’d heard of such covert operations.

He had always believed that although character mattered, hardly anyone truly paid attention to it.

Now he realized that in the shadows, a cadre of Tuyu’s veteran doctors was silently keeping morally deficient physicians at bay.

For the virtuous, it was a blessing; for those lacking ethics, once their faults emerged and they were branded, advancing at Tuyu Hospital would become nearly impossible.

The key was that these individuals would never know that a group of elder doctors was secretly preventing their rise.

Those seniors at Tuyu were probably at least at the deputy director level!

They held critical positions across various departments and had significant sway over major decisions.

Moreover, the core medical techniques were in their hands.

It was almost unimaginable how grim hospital affairs would become without their support.

Either a talented individual remains unrecognized and leaves…

Or they fall into an existential crisis, languishing until retirement.

“This matter is a hospital secret. No one speaks of it openly—we all silently safeguard this ‘shared home.’ Just keep it in mind and don’t spread it around. By the way, I might as well tell you: the hospital’s senior management has already given you a favorable initial evaluation. As long as you remain true to yourself, your future accomplishments will not be far off.”

Mr. Liu’s words carried a clear note of warning.

Some people, despite their early promise and excellent character, eventually get lost in the lure of money and fall from grace.

It was an implicit reminder to Zhou Can—never let it happen, or your future will be ruined.

“One last non-request: if you ever join the hospital’s core leadership, I hope you’ll stand with your fellow upright doctors to safeguard Tuyu Hospital. When you encounter those with poor morals, show no mercy. Like a tree that grows crooked, no matter how hard you try to straighten it, it remains twisted. Adults must wake up on their own; no one else can do it for them.”

Mr. Liu had made a special request of Zhou Can.

He hoped that when Zhou Can eventually ascended to the upper echelons, he would join the forces of positive influence, defending Tuyu Hospital alongside other principled doctors.

“Defending justice and upholding social order—whether or not you request it, I’m committed to living by these ideals. After all, human nature is hard to change!”

Zhou Can effectively assented.

As for the advice on not showing mercy to the unprincipled, Zhou Can had never been soft-hearted.

Nor would he ever try to wake someone who was content in their slumber.

…

When leaving the General Surgery Department, Zhou Can kept an exceptionally low profile.

After spending over an hour in the office with Mr. Liu, he quietly departed General Surgery, clutching the lifetime collection of notes Mr. Liu had compiled.

It was clear that, for a long time after he left, the eight sub-departments of General Surgery would occasionally mention his name.

Zhou Can had created a genuine legend among the trainees.

Single-handedly, he had helped Mr. Liu secure the construction rights for Jiaru Surgery and then, on his own, propelled Jiaru Surgery to seize the initiative, launching new treatment services almost seamlessly.

These feats were bound to provoke animated discussions across all sub-departments of General Surgery.

And, for him, the opinions of others meant little.

He settled quietly in the Apartment, engrossed in reading Mr. Liu’s treasured notes.

These notes were invaluable—they detailed surgical errors, improved procedures, oversights, and the diagnosis of complex cases, all of which were immensely helpful to Zhou Can.

They would help him avoid unnecessary detours in future operations.

They could even allow him to draw broader lessons applicable to other surgeries.

Some of the ingenious surgical insights were so brilliant that anyone reading them would be awestruck. Zhou Can absorbed these priceless experiences, ready to apply them in similar future scenarios.

They greatly expanded his surgical perspective.

It was like a painter who had only heard tales of the Forbidden City’s grandeur, yet had no idea how to capture its essence.

So he saved up, took a long-distance train to visit the Forbidden City, and after seeing it firsthand, he finally had a foundation—a vision of majestic golden nanmu trees, intricately carved eaves, antique redwood chairs, and six-paneled screens exuding scholarly elegance.

Now, as he pored over Mr. Liu’s life-long medical notes, Zhou Can was effectively absorbing a lifetime of medical wisdom in a very short time.

His progress was nothing short of astounding.

The next day, he hurried off to the Internal Medicine Department he had long yearned for.

Yet his first stop wasn’t the top-ranked Cardiovascular or Neurology Departments—it was the rather inconspicuous Gastroenterology Department within Internal Medicine.

Director Tan of Internal Medicine had always enjoyed a good rapport with Zhou Can.

During festivals, Zhou Can would always send messages or call Director Tan to extend his greetings.

Long ago, Director Tan had confided in him.

Training in Internal Medicine didn’t strictly adhere to protocols; Zhou Can could flexibly schedule his rotations across various internal medicine units as needed.

That kind of autonomy was indeed remarkable.

Zhou Can was likely the only one in Tuyu Hospital to receive such treatment.

Early on, he arrived at the Gastroenterology Department’s Inpatient Unit.

Unlike in Surgery, the number of inpatients in Internal Medicine kept growing. Here, patients rarely underwent operations—instead, they were treated with medication.

Zhou Can didn’t rush to ask any doctor or nurse where to check in.

Being quite familiar with Gastroenterology, he knew exactly where the office was.

It wasn’t his first visit here, either.

A doctor was taking measurements for a slender, middle-aged male patient at bed number 51.

He was also asking the patient where he felt discomfort.

The patient’s condition looked extremely grave.

With lips as pale as paper and a face devoid of color, he appeared listless, barely keeping his eyes open.

A family member waited anxiously by the bedside.

With just one glance, Zhou Can deduced that the patient was suffering from internal bleeding.

This was a benefit of his newly acquired Five-Level Hemostasis Technique. He could detect internal bleeding from subtle cues in a patient’s complexion and symptoms.

He had diagnosed several cases of gastrointestinal bleeding during his time in General Surgery.

The patient’s outward symptoms were alarmingly characteristic.

A simple visual inspection was enough to roughly determine the condition—much like the age-old practice of diagnosis by sight.

Modern doctors, who are trained in Western medicine, simply don’t possess the diagnostic finesse of ancient Chinese practitioners.

Typically, modern physicians only make a diagnosis when a patient displays unmistakable signs.

For instance, signs like liver palms, spider angiomas, or lower limb edema paired with a dull skin tone.

Zhou Can’s ability to diagnose internal bleeding was notably superior, thanks to his extensive experience in General Surgery, his mastery of the Five-Level Hemostasis Technique, and his proficiency in Four-Level Pathology Diagnosis.

It was worth noting that as he pored over Mr. Liu’s medical notes last night, every case he read bolstered his pathology diagnosis experience by one point.

The attending doctor measured the patient’s temperature and pulse, gently pressing on various spots of his abdomen.

Zhou Can couldn’t help but feel a bit exasperated.

The family had already mentioned that the patient had passed blood in his stool not long ago, yet the attending was leisurely checking his vitals. Clearly, the doctor was in no rush.

Internists generally maintained this calm approach—even if a patient was on the brink of death, they would still perform routine checks without haste.

Only when a patient slipped into shock or fell into a coma would a senior doctor step in for rapid emergency measures.

Sometimes, their actions resembled the confused behavior of animals.

“The patient’s internal bleeding appears quite severe. If a colonoscopy hasn’t been performed, it’s best to send him immediately for one,” Zhou Can advised the young attending kindly.

Noticing the doctor’s dark, panda-like eyes, it was clear he’d encountered plenty of close calls the previous night—likely overwhelmed by his workload.

On night duty, he barely even managed a moment’s sleep.

“Colonoscopy, gastroscopy, even capsule endoscopy have been done, yet no bleeding site was found! The patient likely suffers from intermittent gastrointestinal bleeding… Hey, who are you?”

After a couple of brief replies, the attending, aware of the unfamiliar voice, turned to look behind him.

To his surprise, he saw an incredibly young, unfamiliar face.

Though dressed in a white coat—clearly marking him as a doctor.

“Hello, I’m the new trainee, Zhou Can. Please take care of me. The patient’s condition is critical, and since colonoscopy revealed nothing, we should promptly send him for interventional gastrovascular angiography. I suggest focusing on the jejunum and ileum segments.”

Zhou Can’s expertise clearly far surpassed that of the attending.

With just a brief glance and by piecing together information from the family and the attending, he had identified the most likely bleeding site.

He had performed so many gastrointestinal bleeding procedures that he’d seen nearly every scenario.

“You’re Zhou Can, right? Do you really think a newbie knows the rules? You can’t just perform examinations on a whim! You must assess the patient’s condition comprehensively—the cause, symptoms, history, age, and any underlying conditions. As a newcomer, you should observe more and talk less, understand?”

The attending, clearly annoyed, barked the lesson at him.

Right in front of the patient, this new trainee was instructing a senior attending on proper examinations—who did he think he was?

A rookie telling his superior what to do—it was extraordinarily infuriating.

“Please don’t misunderstand; I’m merely offering a personal suggestion. Moreover, given the patient’s dangerously unstable condition, I fear a serious outcome if we delay.”

Zhou Can had been as subtle as possible.

The patient’s internal bleeding was extremely severe, and given its intermittent nature, there was also a risk of thrombosis.

If left unchecked, the situation could be fatal in a matter of seconds.

Zhou Can had seen too many cases where a patient was fine one moment, only for their heart and breathing to stop abruptly—the transition to death was merciless.

“Doctor, my father’s condition is indeed worrisome. You’ve been monitoring him for a while. Dr. Zhou says that angiography can pinpoint the bleeding source and we’re willing to pay for it.”

The patient’s son, appearing to be around twenty-five or twenty-six, looked remarkably composed.

Upon hearing Zhou Can’s suggestion, a wave of anxiety flickered within him.

While the test itself wouldn’t be expensive, watching his father suffer recurring hematochezia and deteriorate, combined with the attending’s unhurried vitals checks, made him anxious.

But he held his tongue, fearful of provoking the attending.

Now, with the new Dr. Zhou’s recommendation sounding quite reasonable, even if it might not make a difference, it was better than doing nothing.

“Please don’t worry. My measurements of temperature, pulse, and blood pressure adhere strictly to hospital guidelines. They are intended to ensure the patient’s safety and determine the next steps in testing and treatment. The patient’s current vitals are stable—far from as dangerous as Dr. Zhou claims.”

The attending patiently explained to the family, though his dissatisfaction with Zhou Can grew.

Wasn’t this kid just here to stir up trouble?

He nearly ignited a full-blown doctor–patient dispute.

“Alright, that’s enough of Zhou Can. We don’t need you here—go report to your superior! I have my own plan for the patient’s tests. Tuyu is a reputable hospital; we never perform unnecessary procedures.”

The attending, already agitated by the patient’s condition, grew even more irritated.

This new trainee showed no sense—coming in and dictating how to treat a patient. He had never seen such an inexperienced learner.

He spoke thoughtlessly—as if he could simply order a gastrovascular angiography on a whim.

Besides, the patient had only recently undergone a colonoscopy that revealed no obvious bleeding site. Moreover, the patient had been under observation for three days; if a severe episode were imminent, it would have occurred by now.

This kid was merely engaging in fearmongering and was completely irresponsible.

Zhou Can said nothing further and headed straight to the office to check in.

He didn’t want the argument with the attending to escalate.

After reporting, he planned to suggest his recommendation to his superior.

Usually, at least one attending doctor would be managing each ward.

An attending’s expertise far surpassed that of a trainee; most would likely agree with Zhou Can’s suggestion.

When he arrived at the doctors’ office, it wasn’t fully staffed yet—only a couple of doctors were present since it wasn’t even eight o’clock.

The Gastroenterology Department actually had dozens of doctors.

After all, there was an abundance of digestive disease cases.

Especially in Gastroenterology, where patients stayed longer and required more doctors for oversight. Besides, there was a specialty unit—the Endoscopic Diagnosis and Treatment Center.

This center not only conducted endoscopic examinations, but also performed endoscopic surgeries.

Several competent units within Internal Medicine were developing their own interventional and endoscopic treatments.

Zhou Can stood at the door and knocked.

Knock, knock, knock!

It was a polite gesture.

“Who are you looking for?”

A young doctor sitting by the door turned to him.

“I’m a new trainee in Gastroenterology reporting for duty. Who should I see?”

Zhou Can approached with a smile and asked.

“It’s mid-month—haven’t heard of any new trainees arriving! Are you sure you’re here for Gastroenterology?” the young doctor asked, a bit confused.

For smoother management, Gastroenterology usually accepts trainees either at the end of the month or at the very beginning of the next one.

And the admissions are done in batches, not individually.

“That’s right—I’m here for Gastroenterology training. My name is Zhou Can. I was supposed to report at the beginning of the month, but I got delayed during my General Surgery rotation, so I’m here now.”

Zhou Can explained briefly.

“So you must be Dr. Zhou Can! The Department Head already informed me. Please have a seat; Dr. Chi, who manages the trainees, will be here shortly—I’ll let him know.”

A doctor in his early thirties, upon hearing Zhou Can’s name, immediately set his work aside, rose with a beaming smile, and greeted him.

Judging by his demeanor, he was likely the Chief Resident.

“Have some water! Dr. Chi usually arrives around eight—he should be here any minute now!”

The man poured a cup of water for Zhou Can and welcomed him warmly.

“By the way, my name is Luo Shengsheng. I handle ward rounds day and night. If you need anything, feel free to reach out.”

Sure enough, he was the Chief Resident.

“Okay, thank you, Chief Luo!”

Zhou Can stood, accepted the water with both hands, and nodded gratefully.

From the warmth in Chief Luo’s welcome, it was obvious he was aware of some of Zhou Can’s reputation. Zhou Can wondered whether he should mention the case of the gastrointestinal bleeding patient.