Chapter Index

    “Dr. Zhou, you healed that patient with severe gangrene last time. Take a look at this one—do you think there’s any hope?”

    【If you’ve experienced slow updates for new chapters, there’s finally a way to solve it. Download the Huanyuan app and change the source to view the latest chapters from multiple sites.】

    Dr. Luo, who was on duty, saw Zhou Can arrive and quickly called him over for a consultation.

    These days, Zhou Can’s status in the Emergency Department was rising fast. Both doctors and nurses recognized his skills.

    Seniority-wise, Dr. Luo far outranked him.

    When Zhou Can first started his emergency medicine residency, Dr. Luo was already handling emergency shifts solo. Granted, emergency shifts don’t require the highest level, but the department always picks the best they have for the job.

    In the more competitive specialty departments, doctors assigned to outpatient consultations are often associate chief physicians and above.

    As for attending physicians, only truly exceptional ones get outpatient duties.

    Fast-forward three years—Dr. Luo had been promoted from senior resident to attending physician. Rumor had it he was busy writing papers in hopes of qualifying for the next academic title soon.

    At major hospitals like Tuyu, there are two things that matter above all: either superb surgical skill or an impressive record of published research.

    The more SCI papers you publish, the more solid your status in your department, your hospital, even the broader medical community.

    Yet those who publish many SCI papers still envy those whose papers get better ratings.

    The higher the score, the greater the influence, and the more authoritative you become in your field.

    Zhou Can had co-authored several papers with Dr. Shi from the Critical Care Department, with three SCI papers successfully published. The impact factors weren’t great and the scores were average at best, but at least it gave them some credibility.

    By now, he was very familiar with everything—from choosing a topic, running experiments, writing, and the whole publication process for SCI papers.

    He’d already come up with a promising new topic and gathered almost all necessary materials. The experimental data was underway. With any luck, he’d be able to finish another paper on his own by next year.

    Whether it would get into an SCI journal was still up in the air.

    Either way, time was on his side. There was no rush for now.

    Right now, the most important thing was to rack up experience and master more tricks for writing better papers.

    Publishing lots of SCI papers with low scores wasn’t much to brag about.

    In the end, quality mattered more than quantity.

    After Dr. Luo called on him, Zhou Can got closer to carefully examine the patient’s condition.

    Most of the burns were on the front and outer side of the left thigh.

    The right thigh had burns too but, fortunately, those hadn’t turned necrotic.

    “Did you get scalded by something hot and liquid?”

    Zhou Can glanced over and asked the patient.

    “It happened while I was eating hotpot. The waiter accidentally spilled the whole thing on my legs.”

    Hotpot soup contains oil and all sorts of seasonings, making its burn more dangerous than plain boiling water.

    “You didn’t get to the hospital in time? How did it get this bad?”

    As they spoke, Zhou Can discreetly observed the patient’s overall state. Right now, the patient was conscious, though a little weak, but still in fairly good shape.

    “I did get treatment at the hospital, but it didn’t help much. Also, I have a severe allergy to anesthesia. They planned to do a thorough debridement surgery under general anesthesia, but my skin test showed a bad reaction. Even a small amount makes me seize, raises my heart rate, and causes breathing trouble.”

    At least the patient was upfront about these issues. That counted for something.

    There was a young woman nearby, her eyes swollen from crying, clearly devastated. She looked to be in her early twenties, dressed plainly in cheap streetwear. Her hands were rough and cracked from hard work.

    She was a girl born to hardship.

    Clearly, she was used to physical labor.

    She looked absolutely worn out; you could tell from her hollowed eyes she had cried a lot.

    Standing across from her were four or five family members, all glaring at her like she was their mortal enemy.

    “Doctor, I’m begging you, please save him! Even if I have to sell myself, I’ll come up with the money.” The young woman seemed to notice that Zhou Can held some authority.

    She’d also heard Dr. Luo say that Zhou Can was good at treating difficult cases.

    Naturally, she turned to Zhou Can for help.

    “Are you the one who knocked over the hotpot?”

    Zhou Can had already guessed her identity.

    “Yes.”

    She bit her lip and nodded hard, tears running down her cheeks again.

    A small mistake like that can ruin someone’s life—those aren’t just empty words. Maybe being a waitress, she just had a moment’s lapse and toppled the hotpot, but now she’d have to pay a huge price.

    “If my husband’s leg can’t be saved, selling you won’t even cover it.”

    “If he can’t be saved, she should pay with her life!”

    The family members were nothing short of aggressive.

    If it were any other doctor, they’d probably shrink away, focused on protecting themselves from these fierce relatives.

    After all, the family’s attitude often decides whether a doctor will agree to admit a patient.

    It was clear these family members were the type to complain, pester endlessly, or even take the hospital to court. If the worst happened and the leg couldn’t be saved, all the blame would land on the doctor.

    In those situations, you could only pity the patient for their bad luck. Most doctors would politely refuse: ‘My skills are limited. You should go to a better hospital. Don’t delay the illness.’

    Especially in public hospitals as big as Tuyu, where there’s never a shortage of patients.

    To be blunt, doctors often do have the right to choose their patients.

    It’s about income and career after all.

    Anyone who might put the department or hospital at risk, or jeopardize a doctor’s future, just won’t be accepted.

    Even if the risk is just getting beaten up by family, most doctors still look for a way to avoid such cases.

    You’d be surprised how many patients, or families who talk too much or ask too many questions, find that even for a minor illness, every hospital turns them away.

    Don’t doubt it—these kinds of patients are usually rejected by every public hospital they visit.

    There’s only one group of hospitals that would take them: the Putian-style hospitals.

    They’ll make you feel right at home, showering you with warmth and care.

    “She’s just a waitress. She made a mistake, but why threaten her instead of sorting it out with the hotpot restaurant? Does she look like someone who could pay such massive medical bills?”

    Zhou Can usually didn’t meddle in matters that weren’t his business.

    But it was clear this girl was naive about the world. Sure, she’d made a mistake, but making her shoulder the burden alone wasn’t right.

    It’s simple—when a worker makes a mistake, the employer should take most of the responsibility.

    “These relatives have tried negotiating with my boss a few times, but nothing came of it. The hotpot restaurant owner is really powerful. He told them to go to court if they wanted anything,” the girl explained softly.

    “Figures. It’s always easier to squeeze the weak,” Zhou Can said. “But how is a new waitress supposed to come up with that kind of money?”

    He couldn’t help but speak up for her.

    Kindness runs deep in everyone, after all.

    Most people would try to help someone weaker if they were able.

    “Why are you butting in like you’re some saint, Doctor?”

    “She already said she’d sell herself to pay.”

    “She caused the trouble, so we’re holding her accountable. If her boss won’t pay, she can take it up with him.”

    The family kept arguing, each taking turns scolding her even more fiercely.

    The only reason they didn’t get physical was probably because Zhou Can was tall and male.

    Not to mention, they still wanted his help to admit the patient. That’s the main reason why they hadn’t blown up at him yet.

    “I talked to my boss. He…he told me to be his mistress for five years! I’d rather sell myself online than become someone’s kept woman.”

    Head down, her voice was stubborn but firm.

    “You’re right not to give in. Never bow to evil,” Zhou Can nodded. “Lotuses rise unsullied from the mud—that’s why poets have always admired them. Because of that, they’re honored as symbols of purity, standing tall among the four noble plants: the plum, orchid, bamboo and chrysanthemum.”

    He truly admired her spirit—she refused to surrender to fate or compromise with the darkness.

    She might have little power, but her character was impressive.

    Her story was just another example of how cruel society could be. When you’re weak, everyone seems to want a piece.

    The family tried to go after the hotpot restaurant owner but found out he was untouchable. So in their fear, they turned all their anger onto the helpless waitress.

    The hotpot boss was even worse—he should have been responsible but instead shamelessly demanded that this young girl serve him for five years.

    It felt like everyone wanted to sink their teeth into her.

    “Doctor, are you here to treat my brother or to lecture us? Just tell me—can you save him or not?” barked a large, imposing woman who’d argued with Zhou Can earlier.

    She had been the one scolding him moments ago.

    If he weren’t wearing that white coat, Zhou Can wouldn’t have minded exchanging a few choice words with her.

    But not now. He had to hold back.

    A complaint would be trouble for both him and the department. If any of this got posted online, the internet warriors would tear him to shreds.

    These days, anti-doctor and anti-rich sentiment was running high.

    No matter who’s right or wrong, as soon as a family posts something about a doctor or nurse online, they’re instantly vilified.

    China’s healthcare environment was complicated and challenging.

    Doctors, meant to earn a living through skill, wound up charging extra for supplies and medications just to make ends meet. In places like America, doctors are paid well and respected.

    If the day comes where Chinese doctors and nurses can proudly earn through their expertise, maybe the system will truly change.

    Otherwise, conflict between patients and doctors would always remain tense.

    A patient comes in for treatment, discovers that a drug costing two yuan is swapped for a two-hundred-yuan version by the doctor. Once he finds out, of course, he’ll call the doctor a crook.

    These days, being a doctor is a one-way ticket to public scorn.

    Once you’re in this line of work, there’s no washing the stain away.

    On top of that, putting too much emphasis on SCI papers at major hospitals was an unhealthy trend.

    Anyone hoping for a promotion had to start planning their research papers by the end of residency. It’s a fierce struggle—people use every resource they have to write a decent paper.

    Patient care was all about following standard procedures anyway.

    Writing a solid paper came first because that was the key to advancement.

    “Who here is the patient’s primary next of kin?”

    Zhou Can didn’t reply to the tough lady but instead turned to the family members.

    “Doctor, what counts as primary next of kin?”

    “Parents, children, full siblings, and legally married spouses are all considered primary next of kin.”

    With so many family members there, Zhou Can decided to pick one as a representative to talk to.

    “I’m his sister.”

    “I’m his brother-in-law.”

    “I’m his mother.”

    “I’m his wife.”

    “I’m his elder brother.”

    Well then, four out of five were all primary relatives.

    Zhou Can instantly felt a headache coming on.

    “I need to get to the operating room soon. Choose one representative. I’ll talk with them and let them know what I think after reviewing the condition.”

    In truth, Zhou Can wasn’t too keen on taking this patient.

    First, the patient’s thigh was badly decayed and truly hard to treat. The area of necrosis stretched all the way to the thigh root; even amputation would be difficult.

    Then there was the severe anesthetic allergy, which made surgery a big challenge.

    Finally, the family were clearly troublemakers, aggressive to the core. Zhou Can didn’t want to end up with a legal or complaint nightmare.

    Not that he was afraid of getting hit.

    If the family dared to start it, he’d have no problem fighting back.

    “I’m his wife. I’ll be the representative.”

    After some discussion, the family settled on his wife to act as their spokesperson.

    When a couple’s relationship is good, they’re usually closest to each other.

    In reality, spouses spend even more time together than parents and children.

    Day-to-day life is spent with your spouse.

    Siblings are family, but not as close as true kin.

    Parents are relatives, but the bond with your spouse often runs deeper.

    Too bad so many bad apples these days have ruined people’s faith in love—so much cheating, scheming, and abandoning that trust has hit rock bottom.

    Like when a wife facing leukemia after eleven years together, and the husband would only accept conservative treatment.

    Or when she dies and, less than six months later, he’s got a new wife.

    Or a wounded veteran coming home to see his wife disappear with the payout, leaving him starving and alone.

    And those stories of tricked dowries, girls conned out of money, or huge online debts seem almost minor by comparison.

    “You come to the office as well,” Zhou Can told the girl.

    Inside the office, the patient’s wife sat right down next to Zhou Can—her attitude made him frown just a bit.

    “I’ll be blunt. Your husband’s case is extremely serious, even life-threatening. The wound is badly rotten, and he can’t handle anesthesia. Surgery is going to be extremely tricky. If you want to treat him at our hospital, you’ll need to sign a waiver. We’ll do our best, but if things don’t go as hoped, you can’t blame the hospital.”

    Zhou Can didn’t beat around the bush.

    “How confident are you that you can save my husband?” the wife asked.

    “There’s no way to say for sure. All we can do is try our best. You can think it over. But if you want treatment, do it before he develops full-blown sepsis. This progresses fast—you can’t wait. If you think another hospital can do better, that’s your call, too.”

    Zhou Can hated when families asked him about his odds.

    No doctor would ever dare promise a cure.

    All you can do is try.

    “Alright, I’ll talk it over with the rest of the family.”

    The wife left the office.

    As the girl who caused the accident started to walk away, Zhou Can called out to her.

    “Wait a moment.”

    The girl looked at him, confused, and stayed behind.

    The wife turned around and gave the two of them a puzzled glance.

    Chapter Summary

    Zhou Can, now a respected doctor in the Emergency Department, faces a challenging case involving a patient with severe burns, family pressure, and a desperate young waitress blamed for the accident. As tensions flare between an aggressive family and the powerless service worker, Zhou Can must navigate the risks of treatment, hospital politics, and his own sense of justice. Ultimately, he urges careful deliberation and insists on a waiver before any risky intervention, while also stepping in to support the wronged girl.

    JOIN OUR SERVER ON

    YOU CAN SUPPORT THIS PROJECT WITH

    Note