Chapter 506: A Risky Proposal and an Old Scar

Once the idea took hold, Zhou Can couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried.

He kept perfecting and refining this brand-new surgical plan.

Now that the issue with the branch vessels’ blood supply was solved, treating this section of the aorta had become much easier. All it needed was an extra-long vascular stent, and the massive aortic dissection would be taken care of.

Since the bypass created a new blood flow route, the branch vessels’ connections to the aorta would be blocked by the stent, but it wouldn’t matter anymore.

There were plenty of advantages to doing it this way.

The incision would be much smaller than it would for a full vascular replacement.

Plus, there’d be no need to stop the heart. That meant he wouldn’t have to worry about cutting off blood supply and risking paralysis mid-surgery.

The only tricky part would probably be the bypass itself.

He’d have to anastomose multiple branch vessel inlets.

But for Zhou Can, who had reached Level 6 in both anastomosis and suturing, this really wasn’t anything to sweat. Even Level 5 ligature would do the trick.

The real test was anastomosis skill, but as long as your ligature and suture skills were solid—Associate Chief Surgeon level was enough.

A stent this long would definitely have to be custom-made.

After all, in a typical interventional surgery, you’d never need such a long stent.

With a complete surgical plan in mind, Zhou Can felt a rush of excitement.

Thank goodness he hadn’t sent that patient away. Maybe once he finished surgery, he could have a proper talk.

But since this was an innovative operation with no established precedent to follow, there were bound to be serious risks.

……

By the time Zhou Can finished his last emergency surgery, it was already past 6:20 in the evening.

Usually, once he left the operating room, he’d do rounds in the inpatient ward, grab dinner, then head to Cardiothoracic Surgery to work late into the night—finally heading home.

Lately, Cardiothoracic Surgery was busier than ever, flooded with tough cases and high-difficulty surgeries. Most of them needed all the chief surgeons to collaborate and tackle together.

Zhou Can was the spearhead of this elite team.

His surgical skills and diagnostic abilities were outstanding on every front.

Just yesterday, he’d completed a cardiac vascular stent surgery that no one else in the department could’ve pulled off.

It was sheer grit, talent for interventional surgery, and his own strength that let Zhou Can bring the case to a successful end.

“Mentor, I came across a patient with a really long aortic dissection today, and I’ve got a surgical plan I’ve never seen tried before. Could we discuss it together?”

Zhou Can stopped Dr. Xu, who had just removed his mask and was getting ready to clock out.

Ever since Zhou Can had returned to Emergency as a full resident, Dr. Xu’s workload had lightened up noticeably.

Zhou Can had taken on a big chunk of the routine work.

Say, for daily ward rounds—if Zhou Can had checked a patient, Dr. Xu didn’t even need to worry.

He always caught potential pre- or post-op risks in time and handled whatever he could himself. If anything was out of his league, only then would he turn to Dr. Xu for help or report in.

In surgery? Zhou Can was practically worth several attending doctors put together.

Honestly, he was doing work above even an Associate Chief Surgeon’s level.

Even for third-level surgeries, if Zhou Can had done the procedure a few times and the patient didn’t have major underlying illness, Dr. Xu would rarely even go into the operating room. Zhou Can had the entire surgery covered.

All of this trust had been built up by Zhou Can’s long-term reliability.

Whether on rounds, in surgery, or making diagnoses, he’d never let Dr. Xu down.

That was no easy feat.

It took a sense of deep responsibility, caring for every patient with meticulous attention.

“Let’s talk in the break room!”

Dr. Xu ushered Zhou Can into the OR’s lounge.

That’s where intraoperative issues usually got discussed, after all.

Inside, Zhou Can summarized the patient’s situation, then explained his surgical idea.

Dr. Xu listened in silence.

When Zhou Can finished, Dr. Xu stayed quiet a full seven or eight minutes before finally speaking, a hint of meaning in his words. “You really remind me of myself, back in the day. For the sake of saving someone, we’d give everything—even our lives. We’d take on huge risks with tough surgeries, just to cure another patient. But sometimes, the world just isn’t fair. Good people don’t always get rewarded. I’m not saying that to kill your drive, though.”

“A few years ago, the operation where I had an accident—I was just as confident then, burning with determination. I dug into the research, practiced countless times in private. But in the middle of the surgery, my hand moved faster than my brain. I cut a nerve by mistake. Still, I gritted my teeth and finished the operation. That’s how I managed to cut out all the diseased tissue, and the patient survived this long because of it.”

It wasn’t hard to guess—from Dr. Xu’s words. Back then, in the middle of surgery, because his hand moved too quickly, he accidentally severed an important nerve.

He knew he’d made a serious mistake the second it happened.

Anyone else might’ve crumbled under the pressure and abandoned the operation.

Especially knowing the patient’s status was highly privileged—nothing but intense pressure.

Even back in the Republic era, respected traditional medicine doctors had to be on eggshells when treating big-name patients.

If anything went wrong, the patient could turn on you in a heartbeat.

In front of the powerful, doctors were always at a disadvantage.

Yet Dr. Xu, knowing how bad it was, still pushed through and finished the procedure, doing his best to clear out all the diseased tissue.

That’s true medical responsibility—and courage.

With Zhou Can’s anastomosis now at Level 6, he might have what it takes to solve the kind of problem Dr. Xu once faced.

He’d never dared ask Dr. Xu about it directly—usually it didn’t seem appropriate.

But since the conversation had gone there, he seized the moment and asked, “Mentor, could you tell me about the patient’s actual condition, and exactly where you cut the wrong spot?”

He knew he was digging up an old scar with this question.

It left him feeling pretty anxious.

Dr. Xu was normally so serious, almost never smiling.

Zhou Can half-expected him to blow up and curse him out.

“Why’re you asking about that?”

Dr. Xu fixed him with a hard stare—enough to make Zhou Can’s skin crawl—but he didn’t look angry.

“I…I’m just curious.” Zhou Can almost told the truth, that he wanted to help Dr. Xu break free from his burden.

But since he wasn’t at all sure he could actually do it, he held back any promises.

He couldn’t even bring himself to offer Dr. Xu a shred of hope yet.

Because the most heartless thing in the world is to let someone hope, then crush it yourself.

Dr. Xu had carried this weight for years—of course he longed to be free, to live like a normal person again.

He’d been quietly enduring, sharpening his skills and fixing every shortcoming.

All for one goal: to return to the field someday.

Anyone who’d stood at the top and then crashed knew that longing better than anyone.

Give Dr. Xu a shot at a comeback? After all this time, there’s no doubt he’d surpass his old limits.

“It’s better for you not to get involved. I told you—the patient is someone very special. If you try to help, you’ll only get dragged down too. You understand?”

Dr. Xu was old and shrewd; how could he not see through Zhou Can’s real intentions?

He just wanted to protect his apprentice from trouble.

“Mentor, I’ve worked and learned with you for several years, right? Have I ever been reckless?”

“You’re steady. Especially after training under Old Hu, you’ve even picked up some of his style.”

Dr. Xu nodded.

Old Hu, of course, referred to Dr. Hu Kan, the late chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery.

“Please don’t worry—I’d never take reckless risks. For this patient, you’re the only one who really knows the full story. Telling me can only be helpful; I might learn something valuable. Maybe, when I’m truly ready, I’ll even find a real solution. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to ask around, but the information I get might not be accurate.”

Today, Zhou Can was determined not to let this chance slip by, pushing to get a straight answer.

With his skills climbing, he finally had the confidence to ask.

“Sigh, it’s all old history now. If you really want to know, I’ll talk. But you have to promise—don’t take any risks.”

Dr. Xu sighed, complicated emotions on his face.

He liked this apprentice from the bottom of his heart.

It wasn’t just surgical talent; Zhou Can was humble and respectful too, which was a big part of why Dr. Xu cherished him.

Nobody wants to raise a wolf who’ll just bite your hand.

“Back then, that patient was diagnosed with multiple tumors in his body—child-mother tumors, the kind that make surgeons shudder. They were right up against the major nerves. Not a single top surgeon—Hu Kan, Wu Baihe, or even a few retired department chiefs—dared touch that surgery. But the patient’s wife came to our General Surgery office with a baby in her arms, begging us. I just couldn’t turn them away, so I took on the case.”

As he spoke of the past, Dr. Xu’s eyes softened with memory.

“Like people say online, ‘I never had it easy myself, but I couldn’t stand to see others suffer in this world.’ Back then, I was young and brash, right at the peak of my career—medical journals everywhere, surgeries on magazine covers. For a while, Tuyu Hospital’s General Surgery was the leader in the field—or so I thought. Only later did I realize I’d been a frog in a well, blind to the wider world.”

Everyone has those wild years.

More than a decade ago, Dr. Xu was in his forties—his golden age.

Back then, he’d set world records in surgery speed, led Tuyu’s top surgical team. It’s no wonder he was so full of pride.

No one expected it—one day, the glory, the next, the downfall.

Overnight, one medical mistake brought him crashing down from the altar.

With that, Tuyu’s General Surgery team was dissolved on the spot.

Almost everyone who’d worked that operation with him either left the field or, like Dr. Xu, drifted anonymously through lesser hospitals and dull departments.

It was downright tragic.

“The patient’s malignant tumor was right here. After every possible test, there was no sign of nerve infiltration. I pored over every scan and pathology report, studied the literature, and figured that so long as I cut completely, I could save him. But the tumor was right beside the nerves, so to get it all out, every bit of tissue on the nerve surface had to go as well. That level of dissection is still the gold standard to this day. Not even the best surgeons in the capital or the Southwest would dare tackle it.”

Even after more than a decade, an operation like that remains the pinnacle of surgery. It goes to show just how accomplished Dr. Xu once was.

Who’d imagine that such a legend would now be just an ordinary attending in the ER?

Zhou Can listened, blood pounding.

Turns out, of the three top surgeons of Tuyu, Dr. Xu was the greatest of them all.

“Back then, my hands were quick as lightning, and I wasn’t afraid to cut where others would hesitate. People started calling me ‘Devil Blade Xu Chen’ behind my back.”

There was a flash of old pride in Dr. Xu’s gaze.

“Little Zhou, always remember: the fast scalpel has its risks, but its benefits are huge. Fast surgery can cut through any mess. When precise or steady techniques can’t handle a tough spot, my fast scalpel always does the job. I’ve pushed you to master it not just out of personal preference, but because it offers advantages nothing else can.”

Zhou Can wholeheartedly agreed.

With his skills growing, his understanding of the fast and steady scalpel techniques had only deepened.

He’d never learned precision knife work, so he didn’t really know it.

But with steady scalpel technique now firmly under his belt, he could truly speak on its strengths.

Its greatest pro? Stability.

Basically, it was like putting multiple safety locks on a scalpel—safer, yes, but inevitably a restriction.

The fast scalpel was different—dangerous, but capable of solving problems right in the heat of surgery.

“Let’s talk more about that patient. I got all the tumors, but I injured a key nerve and left him paralyzed, completely dependent. Still, the patient’s family is wealthy and powerful, so he’s always had the best therapy, massages, exercises, nutritional support. Honestly, his condition is much better than you’d expect.”

Imagine it—even with nerve damage, paralyzed and unable to care for himself, he probably never suffered much.

Life’s always smoother for the rich and powerful.

It’s been that way throughout history.

For those at the top, their lives are simply beyond most people’s imagination.

But nerve cells are the only ones in the body that can’t regenerate.

Once they’re cut, it’s a disaster for the patient.

No matter how rich or influential you are, there’s no cure.

Dr. Xu’s fate was a bitter lesson—no wonder no doctor dared risk another treatment for that patient.