Chapter 473: An Unexpected Seat at the Table

Zhou Can was full of questions—this was his first time attending a meeting like this.

At first, it all just felt a bit mysterious.

Now, after checking in, he watched as Director Lou stored his phone, watch, and other personal items into an unused locker drawer.

“Go on, put your personal stuff away! Any drawer with a key in it means it’s free.”

After Director Lou finished, he pulled out the key and slipped it into his pocket.

The security guard then ran a handheld scanner—much like an airport checkpoint—up and down Director Lou twice. Nothing suspicious turned up, and he waved him through.

Zhou Can followed suit, stashing his belongings in a drawer and undergoing the same security scan.

“You can go in now!”

Once through security, Zhou Can followed Director Lou farther inside.

The first thing that caught his eye was a charming little courtyard, maybe seventy or eighty square meters at most, with flower beds, greenery, and even an artificial rock garden.

“Not just anyone gets inside this place,” Director Lou said with a hint of pride. “You got lucky—Director Zhu personally approved you to tag along for this meeting.”

Out of the entire Emergency Department, only Zhou Can and Director Lou had made the cut.

Even Deputy Director Han Changqing hadn’t been invited.

That alone showed the difference between the top dog and his second-in-command—not just in power and authority, but in the little perks, too.

Honestly, Zhou Can still felt a bit baffled. Given his rank, seniority, and status, he really shouldn’t be qualified to sit in on such a high-level, confidential meeting.

He couldn’t figure out why Director Zhu wanted him here.

Walking down a gallery-style hallway for about a dozen meters, Director Lou finally stopped in front of a room.

A small plaque on the door bore a few characters formed from black metal.

Meeting Room No. 0.

At the entrance stood a man and a woman, both dressed in black suits and holding security scanners.

“Director Lou!”

“That’s me, that’s me! Thanks for your help!”

Director Lou responded quickly, stepping up and willingly submitting to their inspection.

“All clear. Please go in and take your seat.”

After finishing, the female staff member checked off his name in her roster, then looked up at Zhou Can.

“Dr. Zhou Can?”

As she sized up Zhou Can, her brow furrowed a little, a clear dose of curiosity in her gaze.

Seeing such a young, unfamiliar face, she was obviously surprised.

“Present!”

Zhou Can stepped forward, copying the others, standing between the two staffers for inspection.

After the scanning, the man politely said, “Sorry for the intrusion!”

With that, he professionally began patting Zhou Can down.

The search was over in no time.

“You’re good. Go on in!”

Zhou Can walked in, but couldn’t help thinking to himself, What kind of meeting is this? Feels like they’re about to discuss matters of state.

The room was already packed with people.

From what he could see, pretty much everyone was a heavy hitter.

Director Tang Fei, Director Tan, Director Xueyan, Director Xie—all familiar faces.

To even sit here, the bare minimum was running a key department. Vice Section Chief Yin from the Medical Department wasn’t even here; only Section Chief Xin Wanshan had come.

Each spot had a placard on the table with the attendee’s name.

Which meant everyone needed to sit in their assigned seat.

Zhou Can started scanning the tables, and after some searching, finally found his own name on one at the very back.

He didn’t feel the least bit slighted.

Everyone here out-ranked him. Every single person had more years under their belt.

Just being included in such a meeting was an honor.

Everyone who walked in was dead serious—no whispers or idle chatter.

Soon, more people arrived—the hospital’s key players. There were some administrative leaders and other department heads Zhou Can didn’t recognize at all.

Tuyu Hospital simply had too many employees.

It wasn’t long before a hundred-plus people had filled the room. As far as Zhou Can could tell, everyone he recognized was a department head at least.

The assistant to the Director, the Deputy Director of General Affairs, and the Head of Security had all changed hands.

That last earthquake toppled two hospital-level leaders and even Director Zhu felt the impact.

Water can bear a boat, but it can also capsize it.

The frontline clinical staff, under Zhou Can’s leadership, had managed a spectacular turnaround.

Back then, many thought Zhou Can would face consequences afterwards.

Fortunately, so far, he’d been working as usual—apparently unaffected.

Whether this would impact future promotions was still up in the air.

Close to six-thirty, Director Zhu strode in with a face full of authority.

He gave the room a look—the invisible pressure instantly sobering everyone.

“Is everyone here?”

“All invited attendees are present.”

That answer came from the same female staffer who’d run security at the door.

“Good. Thank you. Close the doors, let’s begin.”

Director Zhu nodded in satisfaction.

The woman closed the doors and remained inside to pour tea and water. The male attendant was left outside.

The doors were thick and the walls were lined with sound insulation—confidentiality here was ironclad.

“Everyone in this room carries the weight of Tuyu Hospital on their shoulders. You’ve all proven your loyalty, time and again. The last time we had a meeting at this level was three years ago. I’ve called you here because Tuyu Hospital has reached a life-and-death turning point.”

Director Zhu didn’t bother with small talk or pleasantries. He got straight to the core issue.

At first, Zhou Can was still wondering what this was all about. Why so much secrecy?

But now he was starting to get the picture.

If he guessed right, it had to do with the Third Hospital poaching their staff.

Losing one or two experts might be manageable, but more than twenty key doctors from Cardiothoracic Surgery at once? That was practically trying to gut Tuyu’s entire department.

“I’m sure those tuned in to the grapevine have heard—recently, the Third Hospital struck hard at our Cardiothoracic Surgery Department, poaching twenty-four doctors and nurses at once. This is the worst single blow Tuyu Hospital has suffered in nearly fifty years.”

The second Director Zhu finished, the whole room erupted.

“Who does the little Third Hospital think they are? Challenging Tuyu like this—we have to respond and remind them who they’re messing with.”

That outburst came from an older man Zhou Can didn’t recognize.

Judging by his scrubs, he was probably a clinical department head.

While he fumed, the admin leaders seemed much calmer.

A hospital can’t run without tight cooperation between its various departments. Clinical departments handle patient care, admin departments handle orders from above, legal compliance, and manage the relationship with clinicians.

For example, they keep an eye out for under-the-table red envelopes, unnecessary surgeries, or department heads lining their own pockets—and step in to fix these when they pop up.

They also manage top-level inspections, juggle interdepartmental relationships, and take care of all licensing and renewals.

The doctors and nurses in the clinical departments focus on treating patients and getting them healthy enough to leave.

But when it comes to working with upper-level departments, that’s still a job for the admin team.

Let the experts handle their own specialties.

Everyone should stick to what they do best.

And the support departments matter just as much—supply chain, security, cleaning… Any weak link can mess up the whole hospital.

Take the old Security Department for example—before it was reformed, clinical staff were always getting assaulted by patients’ families.

Now, after the reforms, any time a family looks like they might get violent, security steps in immediately. It’s made every doctor and nurse feel much safer at work.

That’s why Zhou Can’s reputation among the clinical staff had risen so much.

That kind of invisible backing? That’s real support.

If Zhou Can ever became a leader, that support would be invaluable.

Let’s say the hospital is picking a new Deputy Director for Business. If Zhou Can meets the requirements, he’ll have an edge over the competition.

“Director, I suggest we put job-hopping restrictions on our key doctors and nurses.”

“At the end of the day, the reason people are jumping ship is because the pay and benefits are better. Just raising compensation would work better.”

“That’s not enough. Human greed’s a bottomless pit. The hospital’s finances are already tight; boosting pay will only make things worse, like locking a shackle around ourselves.”

That counterpoint came from the Finance Director.

Running finances at a big hospital is never easy. Every penny has to be stretched, every expense counted.

Don’t be fooled by flashy annual numbers—most hospitals are still in the red.

Fraud, slush funds, improper bonuses, kickbacks from equipment and supply contracts—they all play a part, but they’re not the main reason.

The biggest expense, by far, is always personnel salaries.

Take a head nurse, for example. She might take home 240,000 yuan a year, or 20,000 a month, but the hospital’s real cost is at least 360,000 after insurance and all the hidden costs.

Everyone in the room was chiming in, offering advice and suggestions.

Zhou Can, meanwhile, just listened quietly.

No doubt about it, pooling everyone’s wisdom was a great way to tackle big issues. But it also meant people would put their own departments’ interests first.

Like when the idea of a pay raise for clinical staff came up—the Finance Director was the first to veto it.

“Everyone’s been participating enthusiastically. I’ve noted down the best ideas. Now, let’s hear from our new colleague. The strategies for Cardiothoracic Surgery’s counterattack came from him.”

As soon as Director Zhu finished, everyone started glancing around, trying to spot the new face.

In three years, a few new faces had joined, but not many.

Getting a seat at the table for hospital decision-making meetings took more than loyalty—you also needed status and influence.

Zhou Can figured he was the one Director Zhu meant.

“Zhou Can, I noticed you haven’t spoken at all. Is it because it’s your first time and you’re hesitant? Don’t worry—no one can bring recorders or cameras in here. Everyone’s encouraged to speak freely, without worrying about leaving evidence behind.”

Director Zhu’s eyes landed right on Zhou Can, seated in the last row.

He could only offer a wry smile.

Sometimes, being singled out by your boss isn’t as great as it sounds.

Especially for someone like him, who liked to keep a low profile and never sought the limelight.

Now, singled out by Director Zhu, it was obvious to everyone that the strategy for Cardiothoracic’s counterattack had come from Zhou Can.

No recording devices in the room and open encouragement to speak honestly made everyone much more willing to contribute. Even the usually reserved department heads had been eager to take part.

“I’m just a newcomer, a junior. I’ve already learned a lot just by listening to everyone’s opinions.”

Zhou Can stood up, bracing himself, and replied.

“Come on, Zhou, don’t hold out on us! If you’re in this room, it means the hospital trusts you. We’re all in this together—any insights you have, don’t keep them locked away. It’s everyone’s job to help the hospital thrive and beat the competition.”

Deputy Director Ye encouraged him to speak his mind.

Director Lou, of course, had already made plenty of suggestions.

“Alright, then, I’ll just toss out a few personal thoughts to get things rolling.”

With no way out, Zhou Can had to say something—keeping quiet now would only make him look uptight and out of touch.

“I think the Third Hospital poaching so many of our best doctors and nurses wasn’t just a setback—it’s also an opportunity. Hospitals these days face brutal competition; there’s nothing they won’t try to get ahead. The Third Hospital was just the first to come after us like this, but they definitely won’t be the last. Sometimes you have to make an example out of one to keep others at bay—we should seize this chance to strike back hard.”

Everyone looked at this young man with newfound respect.

Such vision and fierce, decisive thinking—he was clearly born to lead.

It’d taken many here their whole careers to develop this kind of big-picture perspective.

Yet Zhou Can, in his twenties, already had it down.

“When Third Hospital lured people away, I’m sure the pay and benefits were much higher. Our Cardiothoracic team’s first wave of counterattacks hit the mark—the Third Hospital is now getting slammed with bad press and all sorts of negative fallout. Their patient numbers in Cardiothoracic are probably dropping off a cliff. The ones who just jumped ship must be starting to worry they’ve landed in a mess.”

“We can add fuel to the fire—amp up the public narrative that the Third Hospital’s Cardiothoracic Surgery will fall apart, or even collapse completely. That’ll make their new hires even more anxious. Plus, their main strengths have always been General Surgery and Pulmonary Medicine. We could take advantage of this chaos and target those departments, poaching patients from them.”

“If we can subtly get other hospitals involved, so much the better. But that has to be done under the radar—if no one realizes it’s us orchestrating things, it’ll work to our advantage.”

A hospital’s reputation means everything.

Especially a positive public image.

If competing hospitals found out that a top provincial center like Tuyu was so shamelessly battering the Third Hospital, it’d be a real embarrassment.

Tuyu’s prestige would take a serious hit.

“While the Third Hospital is in turmoil, hospitals have every reason to jump on its General Surgery and Pulmonary business. I’m sure they’ll be more than willing.”

Zhou Can spoke in an even tone.