Chapter 173: Ambitions, Alliances, and Unexpected Turns

They say it was simply collegial affection for Zhou Can, but even a fool would see that his sheer potential made him too valuable to ignore.

Of course, personal connections played their part as well.

In this world, relationships are a blend of trust and mutual benefit.

Trust lets people rely on each other, while interests serve as the vital link that keeps associations alive.

Without a foundation of trust, even the simplest gift is out of the question.

No matter how tight a leader’s budget is, they wouldn’t accept a gift from a stranger. Only someone they trust enough to bridge the gap can make it happen.

The doctors in the Critical Care Department—like Dr. Hu, Deputy Director Yu, and Zhou Can—didn’t have a deep connection with each other.

They were probably hoping that this farewell gesture would help strengthen their bond with Zhou Can.

So that in the future, they would at least have a say when seeking favors.

After parting ways with each one, Zhou Can finished his shift and headed home.

Dr. Shi caught up with him.

“Dr. Zhou has been transferred to another department. Are you still up for co-writing the paper?” Dr. Shi asked. “Even if you don’t take an active role, I’ll include you as a co-author when I publish.”

He added another remark.

Dr. Shi was a taciturn but dependable man; his face betrayed nothing.

His polite words, however, and the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t keen on letting Zhou Can bow out of the collaboration.

After all, Zhou Can’s individual strength couldn’t match the combined force of two.

Working together was undeniably more formidable.

“I’m in, of course. Learning and growing alongside you is an opportunity I couldn’t pass up,” Zhou Can declared. Normally, he’d never have the chance to train directly under a senior doctor.

Dr. Shi’s mentorship in co-authoring the paper proved to be a huge help.

After nearly three months of collaboration, the two had developed an impressive synergy in their research.

They worked hand in hand—gathering data, debating theories, crunching numbers, and brainstorming ideas—to build a solid paper.

In the early stages, Zhou Can mostly spent his time absorbing knowledge, having written little on his own.

Before, his only contributions were interning summaries, overviews, and the occasional campus debate paper.

Those campus presentations hardly counted as real research work.

Now, working with Dr. Shi, their paper was aimed at a top-tier journal.

The caliber and prestige were leagues above any graduation thesis.

Dr. Shi intended to use the paper to cement his qualifications for a mid-level professorship.

Zhou Can’s aptitude for learning was exceptional, and his solid foundation made him stand out.

His only weakness was a less robust memory for rote medical facts and a poor command of English.

That weakness stemmed from his laziness during college—he never bothered to memorize those nitty-gritty details. And his disdain for foreign languages wasn’t helped by an inherent reluctance to embrace them.

He always felt there was no need to invest too much time or energy in learning another language.

Of course, reality eventually caught up with him in a harsh lesson.

His spotty grasp of medicine and weak foreign language skills were likely the main reasons he failed his graduate entrance exam.

Yet in terms of raw talent, Zhou Can was truly gifted—especially with logical concepts. He could grasp and retain ideas with astonishing speed.

Even his teachers had praised him multiple times.

That’s why, despite not having an exceptional all-round medical knowledge, his skill in pathology diagnosis was remarkable.

He was passionately curious about diagnosing and treating diverse cases.

When reading, he absorbed medical knowledge like a sponge.

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.

Besides his poor recall of rote facts, his surgical skills were nothing to write home about either.

Before the experience system was implemented, he probably wouldn’t have ranked even in the top hundred for training exams.

When it came to practicing surgery, though, he was relentlessly diligent.

Now, thanks to the experience system boosting multiple techniques, his previous shortcoming was not only overcome but turned into his greatest strength.

This transformation is a key reason he’s becoming increasingly impressive.

Working with Dr. Shi on the paper, he initially relied on his mentor’s guidance, but now his contributions even surpass Dr. Shi’s.

His growth is truly tangible.

Because his input was crucial, Dr. Shi hurried after him to discuss the paper privately.

Dr. Shi breathed a quiet sigh of relief after getting Zhou Can’s confirmation.

“Keep in touch!”

Dr. Shi shook his phone and turned to leave.

……

The next day, Zhou Can arrived early at the Cardiothoracic Surgery department to sign in,

hoping to avoid any trivial infractions.

Director Xie of the Surgical Department had never been kind to him and always sought to undermine him.

Just as the enemy of China would never let patriotism wane, Director Xie continuously schemed and suppressed him.

As long as Zhou Can didn’t submit to the Surgical Department, Director Xie would remain restless, fearing that Zhou Can might someday pose a major threat—his suppression showed no signs of stopping.

Cardiothoracic Surgery, touted as one of the four best departments in surgery, is no name without substance.

A single cardiac bypass operation can bring in seventy to eighty thousand in revenue.

And when it came to various heart, lung, and aortic procedures, they were all major surgeries. High costs and extraordinary technical demands were the norm.

That is the very foundation of the arrogance held by the doctors in Cardiothoracic Surgery.

Within the Surgical Department, only Cardiothoracic Surgery could realistically rival the General Surgery Department on a technical level.

However, in recent years, with hospital departments becoming more specialized,

Cardiac and Major Vascular Surgery has increasingly emerged as a standalone unit.

Effectively, the Cardiothoracic Surgery department has been fragmented.

This split has dealt a significant blow to the traditional Thoracic Surgery field.

At Tuyu’s hospital, the Cardiothoracic Surgery department remains intact, maintaining its formidable strength.

Inside the doctors’ office, Zhou Can noted that there were only five new trainees in Cardiothoracic Surgery, including himself.

After filling out the forms, one of the trainees announced in a high-pitched voice, “Do you know what the very first task is here in Cardiothoracic Surgery? Learn to take out the trash. Because in our department, there are no minor procedures—only high-risk, high-tech major surgeries. You trainees shouldn’t expect to do everything your own way. All you can do is observe, learn, listen, and limit your hands-on practice.”

It’s well known that the Cardiothoracic Surgery department has long been arrogant and self-important.

Today, Zhou Can got a firsthand lesson in that.

Even though trainees might be inexperienced in many areas, they’re a far cry from interns. Moreover, some of them have already trained for more than two years.

They already hold practicing licenses and are considered full-fledged resident doctors.

They’re perfectly capable of being attending physicians.

Yet here, they’re told to learn how to take out the trash—it’s utterly maddening.

Just then, a young nurse burst into the office in a flurry.

“Dr. Zhao, Dr. Zhao! A patient with severe chest pain has come in. Please hurry over and take a look!”

“Why come here? Send him to register at the Outpatient Department first!”

Dr. Zhao, who was speaking to Zhou Can and the others, frowned.

Patients usually head to a doctor’s office only after being advised to register and follow proper procedures.

Otherwise, if everyone did that, things would fall into chaos.

“He claims to know Director Xueyan. Perhaps you should check him out?”

The nurse sounded a bit conflicted.

Medical staff relationships are complicated. When a patient claims to know someone within the department, nurses tend to handle the situation with extra care.

After all, he claimed to know a chief physician, so they couldn’t just brush him off rudely.

If Director Xueyan were to hold them accountable later, the nurses’ lives would become a living hell.

Usually in the hospital, don’t be fooled by the nurses’ colorful language—they’re quick to scold patients, relatives, even doctors. They seem fearless.

In reality, they’re quite shrewd.

If you observe closely, you’ll find that nurses tend to criticize only resident-level and lower doctors. When it comes to senior residents, even if they’re slow or dump tasks on them, they wouldn’t dare speak up directly—instead, they’d mutter behind their backs.

Women, after all, are gifted at worrying and complaining.

As for teasing attending physicians, that only happens if a nurse’s had a real enough lapse in judgment.

But when it comes to senior doctors, even the head nurse shows proper deference.

Some nurses show nothing but respect.

When Dr. Zhao learned the patient was a well-connected case, he didn’t dare to delay. He stepped out of the office just as the patient, lying on a stretcher and intermittently wailing in pain, was brought to the nurse’s station.

Accompanied by three anxious relatives,

their well-dressed appearance suggested a well-off background.

The two older individuals—likely the patient’s parents—stood with an air of authority.

They might even hold some managerial position at their workplace.

It’s common for those with even a little clout to seek preferential treatment in hospitals through personal connections.

Especially among minor officials in many public institutions—when they get sick, they almost always rely on connections.

This is probably related to their work environment. In many public institutions, those who reach managerial levels often have significant backing.

“Hello, Doctor. This is my son. I’m well acquainted with Director Xueyan. She’s currently in surgery—please take a look at my son’s condition.”

The older woman spoke first.

Meanwhile, a young, attractive woman—clearly the patient’s wife or girlfriend—quietly watched the young man on the stretcher, who kept crying out in pain.

They appeared to be a family of four.

The older man and woman were the patient’s parents, while the young, pretty woman was his wife or girlfriend.

“What happened to him?”

Dr. Zhao examined the patient while inquiring about the incident.

“My husband said he was doing pull-ups when he suddenly heard a ripping sound in his chest, followed by excruciating pain,” the young woman replied.

Dr. Zhao nodded and lifted the patient’s collar to inspect his chest.

“Where exactly is the pain?”

“It… oh, it hurts so much…”

The patient was in good physical shape with well-developed pectorals and a flat stomach—clearly someone who exercised regularly.

“It might be a chest muscle tear. You need to register at the Outpatient Department and get a chest CT scan to see the exact condition. If it’s severe, surgery will be necessary,” Dr. Zhao explained to the relatives after finishing the examination.

“Doctor, could you expedite things and directly issue an application for a scan for my son?”

“I’m sorry, but I oversee the Inpatient Department. You’ll need to see an outpatient doctor for that,” Dr. Zhao politely refused.

The relatives had clearly been overly optimistic—at such a large hospital, bypassing protocols was simply impossible.

At most, if the patient or doctor sustained an injury, they might privately arrange for a quick scan with someone from Radiology, without any official documentation.

Any request to cut corners as these relatives suggested was simply unthinkable.

Many patients from out of town were still waiting desperately for a bed.

Helpless, the relatives had no choice but to take the patient to the Outpatient Department.

They left in a huff, without even a word of thanks.

Dr. Zhao immediately turned his attention to assigning tasks to the trainees.

As per routine, he was in charge of the patient beds.

This included accompanying surgeries, writing case notes, and learning to prescribe orders, among other tasks.

Zhou Can was responsible for beds 16–20, under none other than Dr. Zhao himself.

It was hard to tell whether Zhou Can was lucky or just a bit unfortunate.

No sooner had he taken charge of a bed than the patient in bed 17 was scheduled for surgery.

This patient had already completed his tests and required an aneurysm-clipping procedure.

Chest surgeries are a whole different ballgame compared to abdominal ones.

For abdominal surgery, you merely cut through the skin, muscle, and peritoneum.

But to open the chest, even a simple bypass requires sawing through the sternum and using a retractor to spread the bones apart. After the operation, the chest is secured with Steel Pins.

All open-chest surgeries are major operations with significant risks.

An aneurysm-clipping operation is a full-blown Class IV surgery.

Just as Dr. Zhao said, there are no minor surgeries in Cardiothoracic Surgery—only major ones.

The patient’s operation was scheduled for 11 a.m., with none other than the well-connected Chief Physician Xueyan taking the lead.

Preoperative fasting had already been announced by the nursing staff.

Zhou Can’s job was to record the patient’s temperature, blood pressure, and confirm any allergies before the surgery.

Meanwhile, the patient in bed 19 was in the process of being discharged and kept coming over with questions.

Patient inquiries were met with Zhou Can’s patient explanations.

After three grueling months in the Critical Care Department—a near-demonic training period—and now managing patients in a specialty unit, Zhou Can felt remarkably at ease.

He wasn’t constantly on edge or fearing that a patient might die in the next second.

He could even take a break to use the restroom or return to his office to update records whenever he pleased.

Less than an hour later, the chest-tear patient reappeared, this time clutching his CT scan.

Connections truly mattered—he’d been quickly assigned a bed.

“Your bed is here. Director Xueyan has given strict instructions, and surgery will be arranged as soon as possible. In the meantime, no food or drink,” explained the nurse as she personally escorted the patient and his family.

They were promptly admitted to bed 19.

Soon after, nurses from the Inpatient Department arrived with trays to register the patient, take his temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and other vital stats, and administer a painkiller.

Finally, the man who’d been crying in agony began to quiet down.

Having connections in the hospital—be it for admission, surgery, or medication—certainly opened doors.

This chest-tear patient was receiving treatment far beyond that of an ordinary case. Whether it was the medication, priority bed placement, or emergency surgery arrangements, it was all done through special favors.

Behind it all was a chief physician whose influence ensured he got maximum care.

Zhou Can absorbed all these intricate dynamics and couldn’t help but think how powerful a chief physician’s network really was.