Chapter 423: Late Nights and New Hopes

Driving home, Zhou Can had barely stepped through the door when he saw Su Qianqian asleep on the couch.

The sight hit Zhou Can right in the heart.

She had probably been waiting up for him all night. After performing two surgeries, Zhou Can had stayed late to help Associate Director He save a patient with a postoperative hemorrhage. That was why he was so late getting home.

At some point, Wei Fang’s bedroom door cracked open—a head poked out, saw Zhou Can was back, then quietly retreated and closed the door again.

Clearly, Wei Fang was the one who’d thoughtfully covered Su Qianqian with a blanket.

She really was the perfect bodyguard.

The noise of the door must have startled Su Qianqian awake.

“Qian Qian, why aren’t you sleeping in your room?”

Zhou Can’s voice was gentle and full of concern.

“I wanted to wait for you. And then, well, I dozed off.” She sat up, a smile blooming as she saw him. “You must be starving, working so late. Did you even eat?”

The moment he returned, Su Qianqian lit up with a welcoming smile.

“Silly woman, stop worrying about me and go get some sleep! I’ll join you after I shower. It’s already past two. You have to take care of your health.” Zhou Can saw right through her.

She was obviously about to head to the kitchen to fix him something to eat.

No one played out the word ‘love’ as perfectly as these two.

“I’m not that fragile! I’ve already set out your clothes. Go wash up, hurry!”

Su Qianqian stretched, her perfect figure outlined in the lamplight.

With looks and a body like hers, it was no wonder so many wealthy men chased after actresses. To become a star meant surviving brutal selections—beauty, figure, aura, all top-tier.

Zhou Can had once just been a small-time doctor. He still felt lucky that he’d won her heart.

When Zhou Can emerged from his shower wearing a bathrobe, Su Qianqian was still on the couch waiting for him.

“Come on, let’s go to bed!”

He bent down and scooped her up, princess-style, drawing a happy laugh from her.

Sometimes, all it took was a tiny bit of genuine affection to make someone’s day. Girls love nothing more than being cherished and protected by the man they love.

……

Just like that, the days slipped by. Zhou Can barely had a free moment—there was always something pressing.

Surgery numbers in the Emergency Department stayed high. After last month’s explosive rise, business growth had steadied out this month.

So long as nothing unexpected happened, the department could maintain its current performance.

That once overlooked and struggling department was, through everyone’s hard work, in the middle of a miraculous turnaround.

At the very center of that transformation stood Zhou Can.

One thing was clear—Director Lou’s vision, courage, and determination were beyond exceptional.

Talented people are everywhere, but true leaders are rare.

If Zhou Can hadn’t met a department head like Director Lou—someone who truly valued him—there was no way he would’ve come so far so fast. Basing the entire department’s growth on one resident was, honestly, a risky all-or-nothing move.

Thankfully, Zhou Can never let them down. He stood firm the whole way.

Recently, more good news for the Emergency Department—the application to build a new operating room was basically approved. Barring surprises, they’d soon have a state-of-the-art laminar flow OR.

And not just any OR—a top-level, Class 100 laminar flow theater. It was a massive leap forward.

But Zhou Can’s surgical team was still short on skilled assistants.

Luo Shishen was still just an intern, with a long road ahead. Zhou needed a highly-trained surgical ally, someone he could count on when things got tough.

That wasn’t going to be easy.

With his skills now, he could handle level three surgeries at the associate director level with no problem. Which meant he needed an assistant who was, at minimum, an experienced attending.

But here’s the snag: what experienced attending would want to play second fiddle to a resident like him?

By that stage, most surgeons have their own ambitions—to climb higher, become deputy chiefs or even chiefs, and lead their own teams.

In major hospitals, team leads can earn several times the pay of ordinary doctors.

Especially in surgery.

Take one big hospital’s orthopedics department—regular doctors earn fifty to seventy thousand a month, but a team leader makes at least two million a year, some even breaking five million. Of course, those leads are usually chief physicians.

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Those doctors fought hard for years to reach that level.

But Zhou Can was leading his own team while still just a resident. That really was extraordinary.

Thanks to Zhou Can’s help, the Cardiothoracic Surgery department’s crisis had mostly passed.

Associate Director He had his flaws and could be self-centered, but if nothing else, the man kept his word.

Ever since his gentleman’s agreement with Zhou Can, he’d truly stopped stirring up trouble. Now he simply led his team and contributed to the department.

As for his own health issues, that was a secret.

It wasn’t anything terminal.

Just some private problems with his, well—nightlife.

Following Zhou Can’s suggestion, he’d found time to queue up for a visit with Chen Guoli, the renowned traditional medicine doctor, and started a herbal regimen.

No one knew how effective it was yet.

But one thing was clear—Associate Director He looked way better these days. He even smiled more.

He no longer looked like a miserable, half-dead eunuch.

True to his word, Zhou Can kept stopping by Cardiothoracic Surgery every few days to help with high-level, complex operations.

Whenever a level three surgery popped up—difficult, demanding precision or speed—they’d ask for his help.

The main goal was to keep up patient intake for Cardiothoracic Surgery.

After all, if the flagship department at a top-tier hospital couldn’t handle major cases, people would talk, and the department’s reputation would soon spiral.

Everyone pulled together, doing everything possible to boost their caseload.

Director Xueyan had already put Zhou Can’s three key strategies into action, but the department’s future still looked tough.

The outside pressure was relentless.

Rival departments at the Third Hospital, Xinxiang Hospital, and the Provincial People’s Hospital kept rising, banding together to squeeze Tuyu’s Cardiothoracic Surgery from all sides.

Right now, Tuyu Hospital could only hunker down and play defense, holding on with gritted teeth.

But as they saw their patient numbers slowly dwindling, every staff member felt the invisible weight pressing down.

And it showed in their paychecks.

Doctors’ income mostly breaks down three ways: base salary, which depends on rank; bonuses, including all sorts—surgery and prescription commissions, quarterly bonuses, overtime, labor fees, plus an annual award; and for those at higher levels or in private hospitals, even a profit share.

The last bit is their pension fund, usually matched by the hospital, which adds up nicely over the year.

So, while the base salary stays the same, real earnings depend mostly on bonuses, which swing with department performance and personal workload.

If the department’s patient intake drops, that means an average doctor who once treated four hundred patients a month is now seeing only three hundred—or less.

Income was bound to change.

Water flows downhill, but people strive for better.

When pay goes up every year, morale soars. But watch those numbers fall, and people start getting restless.

With things as they were, even the more talented doctors in Cardiothoracic Surgery had started thinking about moving on.

The weight on Director Xueyan’s shoulders was heavier than ever.

Pressure can be a powerful motivator.

Only by enduring hardship could she grow even stronger. When Cardiothoracic Surgery rises again, it’ll be a whole new era—and it’ll belong to Director Xueyan.

Dr. Hu Kan’s era had come to an end. For Cardiothoracic Surgery to regain its legendary status, it needed fresh leadership.

It’s the same for companies, departments, even countries.

Every new leader brings new people.

A new successor could ruin a department—or lead it to new heights.

One afternoon, like always, Zhou Can checked his messages while grabbing lunch.

He got a ton of messages every day.

Most of the people who could even get in touch with him were old associates. As his reputation grew, more people reached out for favors.

He made it a point to help only as much as he reasonably could. He was never a people-pleaser.

One WeChat message made him suddenly light up.

A pharmaceutical dealer from that earlier transaction had just reached out.

He sent a photo: a dried, ugly frog specimen.

Actually, it was a toad.

And a surprisingly large one.

“Boss Zhou, interested?”

Excited, Zhou Can examined the photo closely—the toad wasn’t colorful, just a dull brown.

“I need the Rainbow Toad. That’s not the right color!” he quickly replied.

He didn’t waste a second messaging back.

Soon, the other side replied: “This is a Rainbow Toad, I swear on the Living Buddha himself.”

“Alright, I trust you. I’ll take it. How much?”

“Three hundred thousand—is that fair? I couldn’t possibly get it for ten. Even asking around cost me more than that.”

“If it’s genuine, three hundred thousand is totally fine.”

At times like this, Zhou Can truly appreciated the power of money.

“Once I have it, I’ll come find you! Can you pay a hundred-thousand deposit now?”

The dealer was just playing it safe—if he tracked down the toad and Zhou Can backed out, he’d be stuck.

If anything, that caution made Zhou Can even more confident that this brown toad was the Rainbow Toad he’d been seeking.

Finding the rarest key ingredient sent his spirits skyrocketing.

“Deal!”

Zhou Can wasn’t scared of being scammed. He transferred the hundred-thousand deposit via WeChat on the spot.

To him, that kind of money was pocket change.

That’s the difference wealth makes.

For a regular person, sending a hundred-thousand to a near stranger would be nerve-wracking.

But the wealthy think differently—if it’s worth the gamble, they’ll wire a hundred-thousand and not bat an eye.

“Thank you for trusting me, Boss Zhou. If this falls through, I’ll refund your deposit.”

Instead of cashing in immediately, the dealer replied to confirm and reassure him.

“No problem.”

After Zhou Can replied, the dealer accepted the money.

Clearly, this dealer valued honesty.

For Zhou Can, that just built even more anticipation. As for who owned the Rainbow Toad and how the dealer got it, Zhou Can didn’t pry.

Even if the dealer snapped it up for practically nothing and pocketed the rest, Zhou Can wouldn’t care.

Spending three hundred thousand on an extinct medicinal ingredient was money well spent.

Now all that was left was the Purple-backed Mayapple.

That one seemed a bit easier to find than the Rainbow Toad.

After all, Rui Enterprises had found a specimen in the past. Another dealer also promised to look for one, and while there was no news yet, the prospects were good.

The only thing needed was patience.

Luckily, ever since Su Qianqian started following Chen Guoli’s diet and exercise regimen, her condition had stabilized.

A little waiting was no big deal.

Bagging one of the main ingredients had Zhou Can riding a high all afternoon. It was like an ordinary person winning the lottery and lying awake at night, too excited to sleep.

For Zhou Can, every tiny step toward curing Su Qianqian’s kidney disease was a cause for joy.

By the time he finished up in the ER, it was already past seven.

Meanwhile, Cardiothoracic Surgery had two more operations lined up for him, one likely requiring him as chief surgeon.

So he grabbed dinner, then rushed over.

Because he was late, everything was ready when he got to the OR.

But until he arrived, Director Xueyan hadn’t dared to start.

After all, a botched operation just a while back had ended with a patient dying on the table. That lesson cut deep.

That tragedy, stoked by outside forces, had hammered Tuyu’s Cardiothoracic Surgery with negative press.

Even hospital leadership had called her in for a talk.

Now, every time she had to tackle a risky, complex level-four surgery, she always brought Zhou Can in.

An extra pair of hands could make all the difference.

Especially if something went wrong mid-surgery—Zhou Can’s experience and lightning-fast skills were a lifeline for saving patients.

So far, every major surgery with Zhou Can had gone smoothly.

The most dangerous one had happened half a month ago. A patient with severe cardiac hypertrophy needed a surgical ‘slimming.’ The risk was sky-high—it meant stopping the heart to remove excess muscle inside the ventricles.

It was like putting the heart on a diet.

Everyone knows the heart has left and right ventricles, hollow chambers inside.

Cardiac hypertrophy is like cramming those rooms full of furniture until there’s barely any space left. That crowds out blood flow, strains the heart, and damages its ability to relax.

As the muscle grows thicker, it needs more oxygen, but can’t get enough from the blood. That leads to poor nourishment, cell death, scarring, and eventually heart failure.

And with the heart needing more oxygen but not getting it, it falls into a persistent state of relative ischemia—always starved for blood.

Without surgery, severely hypertrophic patients often don’t survive.

That particular surgery actually started off pretty smooth.

But as soon as the heart restarted, it stopped again. Zhou Can and Director Xueyan went all out, but things still looked grim. When the patient was at death’s door, Zhou Can brought in Director Feng from Anesthesiology for backup.

Together, they managed to pull the patient back from the brink.