Chapter 628: Stepping into the Unknown: Trials of the Surgical Path

Dr. Xu had barely spoken the whole time, simply following Zhou Can as they stepped out of Director Lou’s office together.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been extra enthusiastic treating all sorts of neurological conditions lately!”

Dr. Xu gave Zhou Can a meaningful look as he asked.

“Heh… I’m passionate about treating any kind of illness,” Zhou Can replied, chuckling awkwardly. “A lifetime isn’t enough to learn all there is to know in medicine. I just want to broaden my medical knowledge while I still can.”

Zhou Can forced a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Neurological diagnosis and treatment is like dancing on the tip of a knife. Internal medicine is manageable, but in surgery, it’s like walking a tightrope in midair. I appreciate your dedication, but you need to know your limits. Protecting yourself is the best way you can thank me.”

Dr. Xu wasn’t very talkative, but he had a keen mind.

He rarely shared his opinions openly, though there was little that escaped his notice.

He’d already guessed what Zhou Can was after, seeing how Zhou Can had been taking on every tough neurological case lately.

As his mentor, watching his student show so much gratitude and actively trying to help ease his burdens made him both proud and a little worried.

The risks in neurosurgery are immense.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be doubly cautious. By the way, Director Wu asked me to assist him with surgeries and pick up some neurosurgical techniques and experience.”

Of course, Zhou Can had to inform Dr. Xu about this.

It was a sign of respect.

If this had been in ancient times, a disciple would need their master’s explicit permission before taking another as a mentor.

Otherwise, it would be considered a betrayal—a serious offense.

Times weren’t as conservative now, but respecting one’s teacher was still a cherished virtue.

Especially in fields like medicine and scientific research, it mattered even more.

“Director Wu’s a good man. He might come off stern, withdrawn, even a bit unapproachable, but deep down he’s fiercely just. The three of us—me, Wu Baihe, and Hu Kan—used to fight side by side in surgery. We even dreamed of turning Tuyu’s Surgical Department into a world-class program. But now, so much has changed—Hu is gone, and I’m trapped in this mess. Sigh…”

As Dr. Xu spoke of their past ambitions, he let out a long, heavy sigh.

Recalling old battles, he was a hero now past his prime.

Back then, the surgical team had their three top surgeons—unmatched and unstoppable. The glory must have been something to behold.

But brilliance is often fleeting, soon fading away.

Such is life, such is fate.

If Dr. Xu’s surgical career hadn’t been derailed, who knows—Tuyu Hospital might have achieved worldwide acclaim for its surgery.

“Every generation brings its own talents! Xiao Zhou, your gift for surgery surpasses all three of us. If you keep this up, I have no doubt in less than ten years, you’ll lead Tuyu into an unprecedented golden age.”

Dr. Xu had high hopes for him.

He was full of confidence in Zhou Can.

“Mentor, you’re giving me too much credit! At best, I just work a little harder than others.”

Hearing Dr. Xu sketch out this grand picture of the future, Zhou Can could only smile bitterly. Leading a new era? He didn’t dare dream that big.

Right now, his focus was on sharpening every medical skill he had and becoming broader in knowledge while still excelling in his specialties.

“Is humility just in your bones? Not a bad trait, though—staying low-key keeps you grounded and helps you avoid the mistakes I made. Go do your thing!”

Dr. Xu looked at his beloved student, his eyes full of pride, expectation, and a hint of helplessness.

He found himself feeling less and less authoritative in front of Zhou Can.

Zhou Can’s accomplishments had already far surpassed Dr. Xu—in skills, status, even position in the hospital—and he was still climbing fast.

It was like getting outpaced in every way by your own apprentice.

Watching Zhou Can rise step by step, Dr. Xu was filled with mixed emotions.

Nearby at the triage, Cheng Xiaolu was still standing by her mother’s side, waiting for the decision that would shape her fate.

If Zhou Can couldn’t get her admitted, she’d pretty much have to go home and prepare for a funeral.

“Director Zhou…”

She looked at Zhou Can with hope in her eyes. He was her mother’s last ray of light.

“Our department head finally agreed, but there are a few conditions.”

Zhou Can explained to her.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Any condition, I can accept!”

Hearing that the hospital would admit her mother, tears of joy welled up in her eyes.

You could truly feel the strength of those family bonds.

For their children, many parents would even offer up one of their organs—like a kidney—without hesitation, as long as they’re a compatible match.

Everyone knows losing a kidney comes at great risk, sometimes even threatening life itself.

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Yet parents often act without regret, bound by love that can’t be cut.

But when it comes to children sacrificing for parents, that’s much rarer.

Cheng Xiaolu wasn’t just talking—she’d genuinely give up everything to save her mother.

That kind of devotion, selfless love, and filial piety is always moving.

There’s truth to the old saying: Daughters are the soft armor protecting their parents’ hearts.

“You know how critical your mother’s condition is. Admitting her to the hospital already puts us at huge risk. The only chance of recovery is surgery—which carries even more danger. Before we proceed, you must agree not to hold the hospital responsible, or else we can’t take that risk. We pour our hearts into saving lives, and yet sometimes, families still turn on us if things go wrong. That just leaves us cold.”

Zhou Can spoke honestly to the family.

People are complicated. Just because Cheng Xiaolu was begging with tears in her eyes and her father looked honest and reserved didn’t mean they’d always be so agreeable.

If her mother died during or after surgery, who could predict how the family might react?

Every clinical doctor or nurse had lived through their own version of the “Farmer and the Snake.”

“Please, don’t worry. We’re not like that.”

Cheng Xiaolu promised on the spot.

Her father said nothing, but nodded in agreement.

“Alright then. I’ll get your mother admitted immediately, so the transport medical team can head back early.” Zhou Can nodded and began the arrangements.

The two medics who had accompanied the patient had been listening the whole time.

Their gazes toward Zhou Can had changed, ever so slightly.

Zhou Can’s concern—shown in both his conversations with the family and his empathy for the struggles of hospital staff—left a deep impression on the two.

It was clear they’d be influenced by this experience for a long time.

In the future, they would instinctively view Zhou Can as a role model.

Everyone naturally wants to learn from the best.

……

After the patient was admitted, a slew of additional tests was ordered.

It was all to prepare for surgery.

Given the patient’s current condition, a traditional craniotomy was out of the question. However, if a minimally invasive endoscopic intracranial surgery was possible, anesthesia and Zhou Can’s assessment would decide if it could go ahead.

Right now, Zhou Can’s anesthesia skills were at the chief physician level, though there was still room for improvement.

But that was more than enough for now.

It meant he could handle not just clinical anesthetics like general or spinal anesthesia, but also greatly improve his ability to evaluate the safety of surgeries for all sorts of patients.

It also raised his proficiency in handling emergencies and critical rescue cases.

As more of his skills reached chief physician level, he realized each discipline stood on its own, yet they were deeply connected, woven together in complex ways.

Ultimately, every medical technique pointed toward one ultimate goal—life itself.

No matter the specialty, it all came down to ensuring stable, healthy lives.

That was the insight that came with reaching the next level in so many skills.

In his office, Zhou Can pored over the extra test results for Cheng Xiaolu’s mother, studying every detail, then slowly crafted a practical surgical plan in his mind.

Once everything was ready, he submitted a co-consultation request to Wu Baihe from Neurology.

Out of respect, the usual routine was to invite a specialist from another department to consult first, jointly agree on a surgical plan, and only then formally request help in the operating room.

Just asking someone to come do surgery for you? No expert would agree to that.

Unless there was an emergency during the operation and help was needed to save a life.

In that scenario, other departments would typically rush to help—but there were no guarantees.

Crises carried their own risks, even for those lending a hand.

This was where social connections in the hospital mattered.

It was always smart to keep good relations with doctors and nurses from other departments.

At the level of department heads and deputy chiefs, expanding your network was almost essential.

Around 8:20 that night, Wu Baihe had just finished a highly complex neurosurgical operation.

When he saw Zhou Can’s text consulting him, he replied with just a few words.

“Just finished surgery. I’ll come over after I eat.”

“Thank you, thank you so much!”

Zhou Can had thought it would be great if Wu Baihe could make it over the next day. He never expected Wu to agree to consult that very night, right after a difficult surgery.

That caught Zhou Can off guard—and genuinely moved him.

After all, the patient’s case was serious but not newly emergent. She’d already been ill for almost four days.

She’d been admitted the night before and had bloodwork, urinalysis, and stool tests that evening.

Tuyu Hospital’s own biochemistry lab was reliable—they preferred to check the results themselves for peace of mind.

County hospitals just couldn’t compete in rigor or accuracy.

Many advanced biochemical tests weren’t even available there.

The patient was in a deep coma now, and every bit of data was critical.

Things like acidosis, or subtle changes in key blood results, could make all the difference.

These factors were essential for assessing surgical risks.

Just before 8:50, Wu Baihe rushed in. He still seemed energetic, but the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Director Wu, I’m really sorry to trouble you so late for a consult!”

Zhou Can quickly got up to greet him.

“No need for formalities. Let me see the patient’s records. And I assume your Emergency Department has a preliminary surgical plan? Hand that over, too.”

Wu Baihe had no time for small talk.

He liked to get straight to the point.

Knowing he was coming, Director Lou, Dr. Xu, and the others had all hurried to the conference room straight from home.

Wu Baihe simply nodded at them in greeting before focusing entirely on the case.

He then immersed himself in reviewing all the scans and test results.

Dr. Xu, used to his demeanor, didn’t mind—he waited patiently.

Director Lou smiled, a little helpless.

In terms of title, Director Lou was no higher than Wu Baihe, but as a department head of a large division, Lou technically outranked Wu.

But as Neurology’s department chief and technical star, Wu Baihe’s position was weighty—his department carried great influence.

So Director Lou had little real sway over him.

Look at Director Xie from General Surgery—he used to boss around the Emergency Department all the time, showing just how little clout Director Lou had.

Departments like Cardiothoracic, Neurology, Orthopedics… The chiefs of these heavyweight areas barely noticed Lou at all.

“Who developed the surgical plan?”

“I did!”

Zhou Can hadn’t consulted Dr. Xu—by then his mentor was already home with family.

Besides, Dr. Xu wasn’t skilled in endoscopic procedures.

Even if he brought Dr. Xu in, there wouldn’t be much help to give.

“The plan works, and your surgical approach is sharp. But you need to change the order. Starting from the center of the skull to check for brainstem hemorrhage? That’s far too aggressive. In diagnosis, boldness is fine. In surgery, you must proceed step by step.”

Wu Baihe gave Zhou Can a stern critique.

Zhou Can had diagnosed a high risk of brainstem bleeding for the patient.

He liked to tackle the toughest parts first, then leave the rest to others.

That thinking influenced his endoscopic surgery plan this time, too.

“Xu, didn’t you teach him the basics of surgical procedure?”

Wu Baihe glanced at Dr. Xu.

Tension spiked for Zhou Can—he hadn’t expected to get his mentor in trouble.

To his surprise, Dr. Xu wasn’t offended. He looked a bit embarrassed. “Of course I taught him the basics. But this kid’s a wild horse—he can’t be reined in sometimes. I figured as long as nothing went wrong in surgery, it was fine. Your criticism is spot-on. That’s my oversight.”

Dr. Xu rarely backed down over medical skill.

Even with Dr. Hu Kan, he usually held his ground.

Yet now he was completely deferential in front of Wu Baihe, and Zhou Can found it a little startling.

“Never having had an accident doesn’t mean you’ll never have one. Surgical procedures are bound by strict protocols. If you break those rules, you might get lucky—or you might face disaster.”

Wu Baihe fixed Zhou Can with a sharp warning.