Chapter 418: Under the White Coat: Shadows and Solidarity

Leaders walk in the limelight, their status high, and they always take the largest share of department benefits. The work seems easy, but the weight of responsibility rests heavily on their shoulders. When trouble comes, they’re the first to charge forward without hesitation.

Take patient emergencies—it’s always the highest-ranking doctor who shoulders the main responsibility during a rescue.

That includes coordinating all medical staff on the scene, personally rolling up their sleeves to join the fray, or calling in specialists for support. If anything goes wrong during resuscitation, it’s not the individual doctors or nurses who get blamed—it’s the department director who takes the fall.

In the Emergency Department, it’s not unheard of for medical staff to get roughed up by patients or their families. But for a leader to get beaten so badly they end up with broken bones? That’s a rarity.

Still, everyone knows Emergency, Critical Care, and Pediatrics are the top three departments most likely to face violence from family members.

Especially in Emergency, where the flood of patients means some are bound to feel they’re not being treated right.

If you run into reasonable families, at worst they’ll just vent their anger with some harsh words or file a complaint before leaving.

But if you get stuck with volatile families or patients, you’re in real trouble. Fists fly without warning, sometimes straight to the face—or they’ll grab whatever’s handy and swing it at the doctors or nurses.

Deputy Director Han got stuck dealing with exactly that sort of family this time.

“Those family members were out of line. No matter how upset you are, it’s never okay to get violent! Honestly, I think we need a dedicated security guard in Emergency so our doctors and nurses aren’t defenseless,” Zhou Can said, sticking up for Deputy Director Han, but also thinking of the whole department’s safety.

He wasn’t just standing up for Han, but for everyone working in the department.

“It’s a good idea, but the hospital’s Security Department will never approve it. You saw for yourself today—if you hadn’t stepped in, these old bones would’ve been shattered in more than one place,” Deputy Director Han said, shaking his head with a long sigh.

He couldn’t help but sigh over how things had gotten.

To outsiders, being a doctor looks like a dream job.

Doctors are respected, the pay is high, and more importantly, it’s steady.

But only those who have actually become doctors know how tough it really is. Most doctors’ children—especially the studious ones—choose any path but medicine. They go elsewhere.

These days, bigger hospitals demand at least a master’s degree.

Five years of undergrad, then three for a master’s, three more for a PhD, two years of residency, and another two to four years in specialized training—by the time you’re finally allowed to call yourself a junior doctor, you’re almost forty!

Then it starts—learning how to suture, changing dressings, seeing your first mildly challenging patient instructions.

Only after making it to attending or above does the real mountain appear: research, clinical duties, teaching—all piled on at once.

And exams. Endless exams, making medicine a life-long learning marathon.

But the worst part? After all that effort, the rewards are tiny and your personal safety isn’t guaranteed.

You spend every day on edge, worrying some family member might come after you with a knife.

If you see someone with a rolled-up newspaper in their hand, every doctor tenses up. Who knows if there’s a watermelon knife hidden inside?

Zhou Can was immensely grateful that he studied kickboxing and sanda all those years ago, and that he’d never let his training slide.

Compared to other doctors, he’s never been afraid of angry family members.

If anyone ever dared get violent, he wouldn’t hesitate to act in self-defense.

“Director Han, are these your X-rays?”

“That’s right!”

Deputy Director Han nodded.

Looking at the films, Zhou Can saw a serious break in the radius. The ulna was fractured too, though not as badly.

The attacker really hadn’t held back.

“With an injury this bad, a simple splint won’t cut it, right?”

“Orthopedics is still working on a treatment plan. I’m older, which makes surgery tougher.”

Zhou Can frowned slightly.

When it comes to broken bones, the sooner the surgery, the better.

Once surgery’s over, the fracture can begin to heal properly. Wait too long, and any progress from a couple days’ growth is wasted if they still need surgery later.

Not to mention—the suffering for those two days is basically for nothing.

“Any idea when the surgery plan will be ready?” Zhou Can asked.

With office hours over, the earliest anyone would discuss the treatment was tomorrow morning. Sometimes, if things are busy, a two- or three-day wait is normal.

Orthopedics really is swamped.

“No one’s said yet. Around five o’clock I asked if the attending could operate sooner, since my husband’s not young anymore. But they just told me not to rush and said there were a lot of surgeries ahead in the queue,” Han’s wife chimed in, unable to hide her frustration.

Deputy Director Han was too proud to complain, but his wife couldn’t hold back and vented a little to Zhou Can.

“Say no more. The hospital has its rules. We can’t expect special treatment just because it’s us,” Han said. He usually held his own at home—not many husbands would dare scold their wives.

It’s a sad reality.

He’s a senior chief physician, deputy director of a major department—a hospital leader in every sense.

Yet once he’s in Orthopedics, he’s treated like any regular patient.

But pretending there’s no such thing as special treatment is just self-deception.

Anyone with connections or background rarely follows the rules to the letter.

Rules are written by the powerful for the powerless to follow.

As for themselves? Well, it’s always been a world where officials set fire while the common folk can’t even light a lantern.

When their lives are at stake, which VIP doesn’t pull every string to get the best care?

The idea of quietly waiting your turn while someone else gets the lifesaving treatment… Come on.

Who would do that?

Deputy Director Han is just a bit old-fashioned—a scholar at heart. So his network is probably a little thin.

Plus, the Emergency Department isn’t high-status. His title as department deputy means little in Orthopedics.

Just look—he’s assigned to the regular ward, not a private room. That’s all you need to know.

“Who’s the attending doctor?”

Zhou Can asked offhandedly.

“Dr. Chi Hanqiu!”

Han’s wife answered without missing a beat.

Too bad Han himself, being so much like a bookworm, couldn’t keep up with modern ways or how things worked.

A lot of technical or academic types aren’t fond of workplace maneuvering. Still, knowing a bit about dealing with people is important.

Some would rather lose everything than lose face.

They’d cling to their dignity, even if it’s the last thing they have.

These people are lovable in their way—but they also end up struggling more than most.

Only a lucky few achieve something great in science or research and manage to change their fate.

As for Dr. Chi Hanqiu, Zhou Can knew him well—a top attending in the trauma team over in Orthopedics.

Back when Zhou Can was doing his residency, Chi was already one of the best attendings around.

Now, two years later, he’s probably almost qualified for associate chief.

But getting that promotion is hard. Even just the SCI article requirement weeds out so many. You can’t just buy a couple papers and expect to pass.

Especially lately—doctor title reviews are getting stricter, raising the bar every year, to the point that people who tried to just skate by are furious.

In the past, there were plenty of loopholes.

These days, not many left.

“Dr. Chi’s technique is among the very best of Orthopedic attendings. With him in charge, Director Han will get excellent care. Please don’t worry,” Zhou Can reassured Han’s wife before turning back to her husband.

He offered comfort to Han’s wife, then looked to Han himself.

“I just wanted to check in on you, Director. Seeing your condition stable puts my mind at ease. Take care here—if the department needs anything, call me. I won’t keep you from resting.”

With that, Zhou Can stood to take his leave.

“Thank you, Zhou!”

Han was genuinely grateful that Zhou Can came to visit.

“No need for thanks—I’ll be back to see you in a few days!”

Zhou Can waved goodbye.

“Goodbye, Director Han! Goodbye, Auntie!”

Leaving the ward, Zhou Can didn’t head home right away. Instead, he stopped by the doctors’ office in Orthopedics.

Say what you will, Deputy Director Han could be a bit temperamental sometimes, but he’d always been good to Zhou ever since approving of him.

Now that trouble had come for Han, Zhou was going to help however he could.

When he got to the office and knocked, he found only three doctors still on duty.

There was a young doctor he didn’t know, but the other two were familiar faces. One of them he knew well—they were WeChat friends, still exchanging greetings on holidays and keeping in touch regularly.

That close friend was none other than Dr. Dan Shan.

“Hey, Dr. Zhou! Now there’s a rare visitor!”

Dan Shan glanced back and brightened in delight when she saw Zhou Can.

“A doctor from Emergency got hurt by a patient’s family and is admitted here—so I came to visit. Figured I’d see if anyone I knew was on the night shift in Orthopedics,” Zhou explained with a smile.

He grinned as he explained.

By the way, covering evening and night shifts isn’t the same.

In some hospitals, there are just two shifts—A and B—twelve hours each, so evening and overnight are the same.

If the shift’s in three parts, evening runs from four until midnight. The worst is midnight to eight in the morning—the real graveyard shift.

“Haha! You picked the right day! I really miss doing surgeries with you back in our residency days,” Dan Shan replied, always cheerful and upbeat.

Of all the trainees back then, Zhou Can was her top pick.

Whenever she worked with Zhou in the OR, she felt at ease—he handled things so smoothly she barely had to worry.

He was diligent, his skills sharp, and his diagnostic abilities downright incredible. She never had to worry about a thing—he took on nearly every task.

For tough surgeries, Zhou was sometimes even more capable than she was.

He always came through.

If there was heavy lifting to be done, Zhou never let her—the gentleman, always volunteering himself.

That’s why her impression of Zhou had always been so good.

“Dan always talks about Dr. Zhou! Whenever I mess up as her assistant, she sighs and says, ‘If only Dr. Zhou were here!'” Dr. Tang chimed in, another old colleague of Zhou’s.

Dr. Tang and Zhou had known each other since Tang was a resident. Judging by the badge, he hadn’t made attending yet.

But timing-wise, he’d probably advance in another year or two.

Of course, if Tang failed the attending exam, that was another story.

Getting promoted was never up to the hospital alone.

Some hospitals now only let in medical graduates who pass the licensing exams—no contract for residency training without it. It’s a way of paying the least for highly educated doctors.

There’ve even been scandals: some nurses endured harassment by hospital leaders just to get a personnel contract.

“I can’t believe my bad luck—even lying down I still get dragged into things,” Zhou joked.

He played along with a grin.

“Have some water, Dr. Zhou,” Dan said, handing him a cup herself.

She then invited him to sit and chat.

Dan could talk about anything, but Zhou hadn’t come just to reminisce—he had a favor to ask.

“Has Orthopedics been super busy? I need to ask Dr. Chi to move up the surgery for our Emergency doctor, if possible.”

He got straight to the point.

“Busy is an understatement. But if you need Dr. Chi’s help, he’ll definitely say yes. Should I call him right now for you?”

Dan was nothing if not helpful.

“I’ll call myself, but if you could keep an eye on Bed 57—Han Changqing—I’d really appreciate it. Next time you’re free, it’s my treat. Ever since coming back to Emergency, I’ve been practically living in the OR, swamped every day.”

He was playing the ‘connections’ card for Han Changqing.

It had real benefits.

First, it meant better treatment for Deputy Director Han, both medically and for nursing care. If this injury wasn’t covered as a workplace accident, calling in a favor made all the difference—hospital bills alone could multiply several times.

There’s a huge difference in care when you have someone on your side.

That’s how tightly-woven the world of connections is.

Second, asking for help deepened Zhou’s relationships with those doctors.

Friends are meant to be called on.

Letting friendships go cold or rest too long—without mutual benefit—causes them to rust over.

Leave them rusting too long, and your network stops working. So now and then, asking a friend for help is just another way to keep connections warm.

“Not a problem. Bed 57, right? I’ll make sure to look after him,” Dan promised.

Dan held real weight in Orthopedics.

She was educated, published, and skilled—a clear candidate for future chief.

Even now, she was probably on her way to associate chief.

Compared with Dr. Chi, Dan had a smoother road to promotion.

Dr. Chi struggled more with academic achievements—that was his weak spot.

“Thanks so much! I’ve got other things to handle, so I’ll head out now.”

“See you!”

Dan walked him out to the door.

Once outside, Zhou Can immediately called Dr. Chi Hanqiu.