Chapter 533: A Visit to the Director’s Office: Director Zhu’s Pride

“So your treatment plan focuses on addressing the lung infection and the severely narrowed or blocked arterial areas, right?”

Director Xueyan asked with a probing tone.

“Exactly! While the patient does have vascular narrowing in areas like the abdominal aorta, it’s relatively mild and shows no obvious symptoms. I believe surgery isn’t necessary for those parts right now.”

Zhou Can nodded in confirmation.

As his skills sharpened over time, he grew more cautious when crafting surgical plans for patients.

If surgery could be avoided, he’d opt for that path without hesitation.

Every operation, no matter how minor, inflicts some harm on the body—a principle he now held in higher regard than ever before.

In the past, his focus while treating patients leaned heavily on the potential benefits and outcomes of surgery.

That was the guiding principle for most surgeons.

If the harm caused by surgery was less than the benefits gained, it was generally deemed worth considering.

Now, Zhou Can weighed not just the harm and post-surgery benefits but also strove to avoid operations whenever possible. If drugs or physical therapy could suffice, he’d choose those. And if surgery was inevitable, he’d pick the least invasive approach.

Take the recent case of a patient with an aortic dissection. Instead of replacing the aorta, he opted for a more complex but less intrusive solution—bypass surgery with a vascular stent.

Even though the patient’s aorta had a long tear from the dissection, it was still their original vessel. If it could be preserved, Zhou Can would do everything to avoid replacement.

This mindset of prioritizing the patient’s original tissues and organs marked a clear step up from his earlier approach.

It was an evolution in surgical philosophy.

Ironically, as a surgeon, he now did his utmost to keep patients off the operating table.

On the surface, it might seem like he was working against his own livelihood.

In truth, he was elevating the art of surgery to a whole new level.

It’s like comparing a street vendor to a shop owner with a recognized brand—the scale and quality had transformed.

“Also, arteriosclerotic occlusion is often a systemic condition. The guiding principle is to prioritize non-surgical treatments unless there are clear symptoms or a serious threat to life.”

Zhou Can emphasized this point further.

Systemic diseases like this were particularly tricky. If a doctor had a perfectionist streak and insisted on addressing every single lesion, they’d end up replacing the patient’s entire vascular system.

Even then, there’s no guarantee the problem would be fully resolved.

It’s a bit like governing a nation ravaged by war and corruption. A new ruler aiming to stabilize the throne and rebuild can’t do it all at once. Progress must be gradual.

If the people can’t even afford food, forcing them to study classics every day would only spark rebellion.

“Your surgical plan is sound and well-reasoned. Tomorrow, I’ll personally discuss it with the patient and their family. If they agree, we’ll schedule the surgery. As for the lung infection, treatment started today, and I expect it’ll be under control soon.”

Director Xueyan gave her approval with a decisive nod.

The patient had already been diagnosed with a lung infection upon admission and was receiving IV treatment.

Though multiple vascular issues were detected, only a portion actually required intervention.

“Sis Yan, this patient’s condition isn’t suitable for endovascular stent angioplasty. If the family insists on a stent, please don’t agree to it. Using an artificial vessel for a bypass is straightforward, cost-effective, and solves the issue directly. A stent won’t address the root problem. In a few months, another blockage could form elsewhere, and the family will be quick to call us incompetent.”

Zhou Can voiced his concern about the family pushing for a stent-based solution.

“Don’t worry. The patient themselves will handle convincing the family.”

Director Xueyan smiled with quiet confidence.

…

The next morning, after finishing rounds in the emergency ward and exchanging a quick word with Dr. Xu, Zhou Can headed straight to the Director’s Office.

The matter of a medical exchange between Provincial People’s Hospital and Tuyu Hospital wasn’t something Director Lou could handle. It had to go straight to the top.

Standing before the Director’s Office, Zhou Can felt a flicker of nerves.

Steeling himself, he knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

A steady voice called out—not Director Zhu’s, but a middle-aged man’s, rich with a magnetic depth.

Pushing the door open, Zhou Can’s eyes landed on a plain office desk. Behind it sat a man in his mid-forties, with sharp, eagle-like brows and a piercing gaze that made it hard to meet his eyes.

To the side of the desk were four workstations for regular office tasks.

Only two young female staff members were present.

Leaders rarely dealt with mundane details—those were left to their subordinates. Their role was to direct, sign off, and provide guidance.

“Greetings, Director Qin. I have something I’d like to report to Director Zhu.”

Zhou Can addressed the hospital assistant with perfect courtesy.

He naturally referred to him as Director Qin.

Though the title of hospital assistant might sound like a mere errand-runner for the director, in reality, they held significant authority as a hospital-level leader.

When the director was away on business or attending training at places like the party school, the hospital assistant often stepped in to fulfill the director’s duties.

Normally, any hospital matters requiring the director’s approval or signature were first routed through them.

“Ah, Dr. Zhou! What a rare visitor! Director Zhu will be a bit late to the hospital today. Why don’t you take a seat, have some tea, and wait for a while?”

Hospital Assistant Qin greeted him with notable politeness.

After all, his predecessor had been taken down by none other than Zhou Can.

Originally a deputy director in the hospital’s administration office, Qin had seized a rare opportunity to leap into the role of hospital assistant—a dark horse in every sense.

The competition for that position must have been fierce.

Many seasoned candidates had been passed over, which spoke volumes about Qin’s exceptional qualities.

Zhou Can’s first impression of the man was that of a sharp, unsheathed sword—brimming with edge and presence.

In truth, after the previous hospital assistant was dismissed and imprisoned for colluding with the Security Department, there must have been both outrage and lingering fear.

Director Zhu had been implicated in that scandal.

At the time, he’d been on the cusp of a promotion.

Had that incident not occurred, Director Zhu might already be serving in a high-ranking position at a superior department.

And not just any minor role, either.

But after the hospital assistant’s downfall, along with the Security Department head and the vice-director of General Affairs—all toppled by Zhou Can—it became the biggest upheaval Tuyu Hospital had seen in two decades.

Director Zhu managing to hold onto his position was a feat in itself.

His hopes for promotion, however, were put on indefinite hold.

Yet as long as the higher-ups didn’t strip him of his title, there was still a chance. If Tuyu Hospital thrived under his leadership, he could rebuild his momentum and aim for a higher post once more.

Hospital Assistant Qin had been deeply affected by that shake-up. Zhou Can, a mere resident doctor from a clinical department, had left an indelible mark on him.

Seeing Zhou Can now, Qin’s nerves instinctively tightened.

He couldn’t help but wonder silently—what business did this young man have with Director Zhu?

Could it be that some cadre in an administrative or logistics department had overstepped? He certainly didn’t want to get dragged into any mess.

Having just secured the hospital assistant position—the youngest ever to do so—his future was bright. The last thing he wanted was to be toppled like his predecessor.

Though his mind raced, Qin kept his composure and refrained from asking directly.

Instead, he probed subtly. “Dr. Zhou, please have some tea!”

He personally poured a cup for Zhou Can—an unprecedented gesture. Even a chief physician might not receive such treatment.

“Thank you!”

Zhou Can stood to accept the cup with both hands, placing it on the table before sitting back down, only half-resting on the chair.

Every word and action in the presence of a leader carried weight.

No one taught these things explicitly, but they had to be observed.

The overarching principle was respect for authority, reflected in every gesture and detail. Honesty was key when speaking with leaders, especially when reporting issues about direct superiors—such matters demanded extra caution.

One couldn’t simply barge in and complain about a department chief to the director.

The best approach was to frame it as a heartfelt conversation, sharing work-related struggles as a junior confiding in a senior.

A small detail like Zhou Can’s half-seated posture might seem trivial, but leaders noticed. It conveyed respect in a way that left a positive impression.

Qin could sense Zhou Can’s deference toward him.

“Dr. Zhou, you’re a busy man with precious time. If you’d rather not wait, I can pass your message to Director Zhu. Of course, if it’s highly confidential or personal, it’s better to discuss it with him face-to-face.”

Qin’s words were delivered with finesse.

It was no surprise he’d outmaneuvered numerous competitors to claim the hospital assistant role.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d be glad to report to you first!”

Zhou Can’s response was equally polished, leaving no room for discomfort.

It was pleasant to hear.

“Haha, Dr. Zhou, feel free to speak your mind. My job is to assist the director in managing all hospital affairs, big and small. Matters from clinical departments like yours are always a top priority.”

Director Qin laughed heartily as he spoke.

“It’s like this—a former colleague was injured in a fall from a building a couple of days ago…”

Zhou Can recounted the incident in detail, then informed Qin about Provincial People’s Hospital’s interest in a medical exchange with Tuyu.

Just then, Director Zhu arrived for work.

His office was situated further inside, reminiscent of an ancient county office layout—where clerks worked upfront, and the magistrate’s chamber sat at the back.

To meet the magistrate, one typically dealt with the clerks first.

Only if they couldn’t handle the matter would it be escalated to the magistrate.

Some hospital directors preferred a separate, private office. If a nurse, female doctor, pharmaceutical rep, or contractor needed a discreet meeting, it could happen unnoticed.

That setup offered strong privacy protection for the director.

Of course, history showed that directors without oversight often stumbled into trouble.

Impregnating several nurses or female doctors wasn’t even considered news. Embezzling tens of millions was just petty play.

Director Zhu, by contrast, was known for his integrity. Since taking the role, he’d adhered to a system of accountability.

He kept his office within the hospital assistant’s space.

Gift-givers and opportunistic young nurses were all kept at bay.

Human nature often faltered under temptation. The best defense, as Director Zhu practiced, was to block allure at the door.

“Hey, Zhou Can! You’re always so swamped—how do you have time to drop by today?”

Director Zhu looked mildly surprised to see him.

“Good morning, Director Zhu! I’m here on behalf of a doctor from Provincial People’s Hospital to report something. Since you weren’t in yet, I’ve already briefed Director Qin.”

Zhou Can stood up with a respectful nod.

“Is this about Lu Xiangbei’s incident with the fall?”

Director Zhu asked.

“I did plan to mention that, but the main reason I’m here is to discuss Provincial People’s Hospital’s proposal for a medical exchange with us.”

Zhou Can clarified.

“Oh! A medical exchange with Provincial People’s Hospital? That’s excellent news! Come, let’s talk inside!”

Director Zhu ushered Zhou Can into the inner office.

His expression made it clear he placed great importance on the matter.

Stepping inside, Zhou Can noted the simplicity and elegance of the setup.

Two framed calligraphy pieces adorned the walls, while a filing cabinet stood behind the director’s sturdy, large wooden desk. Nothing screamed extravagance—just a quiet, refined atmosphere.

“Your office feels so calming!”

Zhou Can couldn’t help but compliment.

“Haha, really? You’re the first to praise it like that. No surprise, though, coming from the medical prodigy our chief physicians across departments rave about. Even your compliments are uniquely refreshing.”

Director Zhu chuckled warmly, turning the praise back on Zhou Can.

“Come, sit! No need to be formal here. I may be the hospital director, but I’m just a manager. Without people like you doing the real work, I’d be nothing. Some of my goals down the line will rely on talented young folks like you to come to fruition!”

Director Zhu gestured for him to sit, then personally brewed tea for him.

“Try this. It’s a fine batch of Da Hong Pao I rarely touch. My daughter spent over a month’s salary to buy it as a gift for me.”

Mentioning his daughter, Director Zhu’s eyes shone with tender pride, an unspoken joy glowing within them.

“A kind father raises filial children. You’re truly blessed to have such a wonderful and devoted daughter. I’m lucky to taste such precious tea—definitely riding on your coattails here.”

Zhou Can lifted the cup, taking a whiff, his eyes lighting up faintly.

“Well? How’s the aroma?”

Director Zhu asked with a broad smile.

“It’s more than just good—it’s a treasure. I’m no tea expert, but I’ve sampled some high-quality blends. I’d wager this tea costs no less than ten thousand per ounce. A friend once told me the finest Da Hong Pao oolong carries a rich, non-overpowering fragrance with benefits like detoxification, lowering cholesterol, and even cancer prevention. This scent—it’s even more distinct than the hundred-thousand-per-pound oolong my friend had. I’m certain its price must be staggering.”

Zhou Can had tasted plenty of fine teas over the years.

During visits to Mr. Cui’s home, Mr. Li’s place, or the residences of other big shots, he often sipped various premium blends.

“Your insight is spot-on, Zhou Can! I’ll be honest—when my daughter first gave me this tea, I chuckled at how little there was. Only later did I learn she’d spent over a month’s salary on it. I was so moved I nearly teared up. They say a daughter is a father’s little padded jacket, and it’s so true.”

When it came to his daughter, the stern Director Zhu had endless stories to share.

She was his greatest source of pride.

“Is your daughter a doctor as well?”

Zhou Can asked with genuine curiosity.