Chapter 483: Midnight Shadows in the Emergency Department

Was Dr. Pu Dingdong really an undercover agent sent from another hospital? Zhou Can didn’t even dare imagine something so wild.

Dr. Pu led Zhou Can away from Cardiothoracic Surgery, stopping only when they reached an empty corridor.

He chose a spot right at the end of the hall.

It was already midnight. Behind them were the bathrooms and the janitor’s supply closet. The two of them stood in front of a window.

“Dr. Zhou, thank you for giving me this chance to speak with you alone. I want to join you, if that’s alright?”

Dr. Pu looked right at him, eyes full of sincerity, but his voice was cautious, clearly afraid he’d be turned down.

The dim lights made it hard to read his expression.

But Zhou Can could sense how nervous he was at that moment.

“That’s a heavy statement. What do you mean by ‘join me’?”

Zhou Can squinted a little, sizing him up.

“Maybe I chose the wrong words. I just hope you’ll let me learn from you. I’m happy to do any job you assign me, as long as you give me a chance.” Dr. Pu was as respectful as a student petitioning a teacher.

He reminded Zhou Can of a first-grader nervously making a request to their teacher.

Hope shining in his eyes, but clearly scared of rejection.

“I… currently have a master’s degree with all four certifications. I’ve worked three years full time at First City Hospital. My residency was at a well-known university affiliate hospital. My surgical skills are weaker, not going to lie, but my foundation in basic medical sciences is solid. Immunology, especially—I’m pretty skilled in that area.”

Afraid Zhou Can would brush him off, he quickly spelled out his strengths and background.

“So why would someone who studied immunology want to work in Cardiothoracic Surgery?”

“My family’s here in the provincial capital. Honestly, when I finished my residency, if I’d really pushed for it, I might have stayed on at that university hospital. But I’m my parents’ only son, so I decided to come back and look for work in my hometown. Tuyu Hospital and the Provincial People’s Hospital were my top choices, but both were tough to get into. In the end, I had to accept reality and settle for First City Hospital.”

Dr. Pu told his story of hunting for a job.

Not every medical student got luck like Zhou Can.

It was truly difficult to land a job at Tuyu Hospital.

Dozens of graduate students would get rejected every year.

Even some PhDs couldn’t make the cut.

Director Zhu, now helming Tuyu Hospital, ran a tight ship and put quality above all else when recruiting doctors, nurses, and researchers.

You could see a few people with connections in administration or support departments, but clinical departments rarely had any.

If even well-connected candidates couldn’t get in, then it was basically impossible for average grads or underachievers to be hired.

No wonder so many clinical med students were feeling anxious these days.

Top-tier hospitals set the bar sky-high. Having a master’s wasn’t enough anymore. The age when you could land any big hospital job with just a postgraduate degree was long gone.

The better the hospital, the harder it was to get in.

Meanwhile, smaller hospitals faced the opposite problem—they couldn’t attract new hires.

Those with degrees from top schools just weren’t willing to settle. Most wouldn’t even consider the less prestigious hospitals.

Like dating—too high, too low, nothing fits.

There weren’t that many med students in clinical tracks anyway, and making it through was tough. In university, some med students would actually collapse from overwork and end up in the ER.

Those who got into medical school were the cream of the crop.

After the hurdles of the brutal college entrance exam, most med students came equipped with high intelligence, excellent learning ability, strict discipline and work ethic. Who among them didn’t have at least a little pride?

Dr. Pu might not be the best of the best, but he was far from average.

From how he performed on the job, you could tell he was dependable, highly professional, and ambitious.

Willing to pass up better career opportunities to care for his aging parents showed filial piety—not something you’d expect from a person with bad character.

Zhou Can found himself admiring him a little more.

“Dr. Zhou, please give me a shot? I know I just switched from First City Hospital to Tuyu Hospital, and now I want to transfer again from Cardiothoracic to your team. It’s not because I’m restless; I just want to develop myself further. I genuinely love medicine and want to learn more. You’re the one who can help me achieve that.”

Having said his piece, Dr. Pu looked at Zhou Can, his eyes burning with hope.

“What’s your plan for development?”

Zhou Can didn’t make decisions easily, especially not just because someone asked nicely.

Last time, when Yang Zhi wanted on his team, Zhou Can had gone through a full, demanding assessment, and that was when he was desperately shorthanded.

“Joining you in surgery would be ideal, but if not, I’m happy helping with anything—even post-op patient management. I’m confident I can do that well.”

The fact that Dr. Pu was strong in immunology made Zhou Can seriously consider him.

Immunology was actually Zhou Can’s own weak spot.

Despite years spent catching up in various fields, there was only so much time and energy anyone had. There was no way he could know everything.

“You know which department I work in? I’m in the hospital’s least desirable department—the Emergency Department.”

He watched Pu carefully, speaking seriously.

“I know, I know. But honestly, it doesn’t matter what department it is. What matters is the doctor’s skill, competence, ethics, and potential. I’m sure you’ll achieve great things one day. Of course, if I’m wrong about you, then I’ll just have to accept it. Every life decision is a gamble; since I’ve chosen this road, no matter how tough it gets I’ll bite the bullet and finish what I started.”

Dr. Pu was actually a few years older than Zhou Can—probably thirty-one or thirty-two.

Age, education, character and his level of professionalism all made him appealing to Zhou Can.

Now that Dr. Pu had made his decision, Zhou Can was seriously tempted to bring him onto the team.

“So, have you thought this through?”

“Yes, I’ve been mulling it over for a while now.”

“You’ve been thinking it over? When did you first consider joining my team?”

“Yesterday—after I saw you treat that hemothorax patient. Not only was your technique impressive, but you had a true healer’s heart. That was when I made up my mind. Actually, I started paying attention to you from my first day in Cardiothoracic. You were so high-profile that I couldn’t help but notice. I was shocked—a doctor younger than me, but already mastering rounds, complex cases, major surgeries—you seemed unstoppable. Even the department chiefs and associates treated you with so much respect. You stood out so much that newcomers like me couldn’t help but take notice.”

Zhou Can chuckled at Dr. Pu’s long speech.

It wasn’t that he wanted all the attention, but with real skill, it was hard to keep a low profile.

Especially in clinical work, sometimes stepping up was simply necessary.

If a patient was on the verge of crashing, it’d be criminal to just stand aside and hide your abilities.

Sometimes those critical moments lasted just one or two minutes, if not less.

At the end of the day, being a doctor was about saving lives, not seeking the spotlight. Zhou Can never really cared if others saw him as high-profile or not.

“Alright, I’ll talk to Director Xue tomorrow and apply to Director Lou of the Emergency Department. If they both agree, you’ll officially be my teammate. But let’s be clear: my standards are strict. If your performance drops, or if you have any major issues—like poor ethics or neglecting your duties—I won’t hesitate to kick you off the team.”

Zhou Can always liked to be upfront about his terms.

You could call it laying down the ground rules.

“That’s fantastic! Thank you—I’ll treasure this opportunity!”

In that moment, Dr. Pu was as happy as a child.

His face was pure joy and excitement, and some of his enthusiastic gestures almost made Zhou Can laugh.

“Once you transfer, I’ll have you start on patient management. It probably won’t pay as well as Cardiothoracic, so think it over. If you change your mind, just call or text me in the morning.”

Transferring a doctor between departments wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

You needed sign-off from both department heads. The Medical and HR departments usually just played along, as long as the teams worked it out themselves.

Finished with the chat, Zhou Can headed outside.

It was late—time to hurry home.

Since it wasn’t far, he usually walked. His Mercedes just sat in the garage most days.

For people without money, owning a luxury car was a dream.

They’d picture themselves driving around, showing off to classmates, folks back home, even distant relatives. But to people in Zhou Can’s position, even the flashiest car was just a way to get from place to place.

People like him—unless they were spoiled rich second-generation types—were usually busy with work.

They barely had time to use their cars.

Mostly, driving just meant commuting, seeing clients, or taking care of errands.

Stepping out of the hospital, a chill wind cleared his head.

After a full day at the hospital—arriving at seven in the morning and still busy now—even an iron man would be exhausted.

The tough life of a doctor was hard for outsiders to grasp.

Most medical staff hardly slept, their schedules blurring day and night.

As he entered a narrow side street, the feeling of being watched returned, prickling the back of his neck.

So late at night—was someone really tailing him?

Frowning, he sped up, trying to think of ways to catch whoever was stalking him.

Unless he was imagining it, someone had been shadowing him for a while now.

They couldn’t have simple intentions.

Maybe they knew he was wealthy and planned to kidnap him?

Or could it be a disgruntled patient or family member out for revenge?

Right now, it was impossible to be sure.

Suddenly, his brow tingled, scalp crawling, every hair standing on end. His eyelid twitched furiously as panic jolted through him.

He sensed danger and instinctively lunged forward, breaking into a sprint.

He zigzagged as he ran.

Running in curves made it harder for anyone aiming at him with a gun or bow.

Bang!

A loud crash sounded behind him, startlingly loud in the midnight quiet.

He turned back instinctively.

In the dim streetlight, he saw a heavy flowerpot shattered right where he’d just walked. Soil was everywhere. Whatever plant had been in it was long dead.

“Murder—someone wants to kill me!”

Zhou Can wasn’t a child; he instantly realized somebody had tried to kill him.

If he’d been even a little slower, that heavy pot would’ve crushed his skull.

Even a simple egg, dropped from a great height, could fracture someone’s skull easily.

That’s why the country now had laws against dropping objects from high places—it was a serious risk to lives.

Some couples would fight and, in a fit, toss kitchen knives or bottles out windows.

It was frighteningly easy to kill a random passerby.

Both sides of the street were lined with shops, doors closed tight.

The buildings weren’t especially tall—most were around eleven or nine floors.

Old town buildings weren’t built tall to begin with. Eleven floors was considered high. The shorter ones had just seven or six.

With demolition costs rising higher than land prices, few developers wanted to rebuild the old neighborhoods.

He glanced up at the roof, but in the dim starlight, he couldn’t spot anyone.

Should he call the police or let it go?

By now, startled residents were poking their heads out of windows, woken by the commotion below.

The culprit had clearly come prepared and likely planned out their escape.

Reporting now probably wouldn’t accomplish much.

Most likely, the police would chalk it up to an accident.

Even so, it might spook the perpetrator, and if they did find anything, even better.

And even if they didn’t, a police report would be good evidence if the culprit was ever caught.

In the end, Zhou Can took out his phone and called the police.

It was the middle of the night, but police on duty quickly arrived in a patrol car.

Zhou Can described what happened, and officers registered his personal information and filed a report.

They moved past the shops to the back of the building.

Thanks to a local officer being familiar with the area, they easily found the stairwell to the roof. There, they found a rusty iron ladder leading to the attic hatch.

Climbing up with effort, they saw concrete waterproofing slabs and piles of junk.

Near the street, there were multiple planters, most of them with dead flowers or grass.

Three of the pots had been placed right at the edge.

The rooftop had a half-meter-high safety rail. Just setting pots atop it was unusual.

Zhou Can moved to shift one for a look.

“Don’t touch that!”

An older officer stopped him.

Frowning, the officer put on gloves before moving a flowerpot.

Another shined a flashlight at the bottom of the pot.

“These planters were just recently set on the railing. There are no old marks at the base. But on the ground I saw traces of four pots having been there.”

They clearly knew what they were doing—these weren’t ordinary clues.

By now, it was obvious—someone had tried to kill Zhou Can with that planter.

They’d staged it to look like a random accident from a falling object.

“Take these three back for prints. This wasn’t accidental. It could be a criminal case.”

“Mr. Zhou, have you made any enemies lately?”

“I’m a doctor in Tuyu Hospital’s Emergency Department. Every day I see a lot of patients. Sometimes they don’t understand my methods or question my decisions. Occasionally, a family member makes unrealistic demands and takes offense when I say no. But direct conflict? I really haven’t had any. I’m so busy, I basically only get home to shower and sleep—no time for drama.”

Zhou Can was just as frustrated—not knowing who wanted him dead.