Chapter 366: Midnight Celebration and Looming Storms

“Do you know where you went wrong?”

Even though Dr. Hu Kan’s tone was stern, the warmth in his eyes made it clear he cared deeply for Zhou Can.

After all, a student who can step up in a crisis and help turn the tide—what senior doctor wouldn’t appreciate that?

“Please, Teacher, enlighten me.”

Zhou Can had a strong hunch what this was about, but sometimes playing dumb was the smartest move.

The others just watched Zhou Can quietly, and a few couldn’t help but crack a smile.

They knew Dr. Hu Kan well enough to spot that beneath his criticism, he was actually showing Zhou Can genuine care.

“Whether it’s performing surgery or diagnosing cases with me in Cardiothoracic Surgery, can you try to be more decisive? Always seeking approval left and right, reporting on every single thing—it wastes time and can make us miss rescue windows. From now on, as long as you’re confident, just go for it. Be bolder. Don’t overthink it.”

Dr. Hu Kan officially gave him a serious critique.

“Understood!”

To Zhou Can, this was actually a relief. During future surgeries or complex diagnoses, he could be much more decisive.

Reporting everything does get pretty annoying, honestly.

“Thanks for everyone’s hard work today. With the surgery a success, Cardiothoracic Surgery’s reputation is safe for now. Especially during the rescue, the teamwork and unity everyone showed really moved me. I hope we can keep this up. Only with real unity can we get through this tough period.”

These days, the department was taking hits from all sides. The struggle was real.

Earlier, during the emergency, everyone had started to rally around Zhou Can—a new team dynamic that Dr. Hu Kan took note of.

He was genuinely surprised to see it.

His public scolding was actually a way of nudging Zhou Can to step up, encouraging him to grow bolder and slowly help solidify the surgical team.

A strong surgical team isn’t built overnight. It takes time and cooperation.

“Once we’re done here, everyone gather in the break room for a late-night snack—I’ve already ordered. Director Feng, Director Dongfang, you’re both invited too.” After taking Zhou Can to task, Dr. Hu Kan dropped news that had the whole room cheering.

Treating the team after a tough surgery filled every doctor and nurse with delight.

Three surgeries, all successful, and now food was on the way—the mood in the OR was pure celebration. Grins were everywhere.

Earlier, they’d called in the head physician of the Cardiovascular Medicine Department for backup, but after Zhou Can pinpointed the issue, the nurse quickly let them know they weren’t needed anymore.

Otherwise, the crowd would’ve been even bigger.

“I think I’ll pass this time.”

Director Feng was a bit of an oddball—usually silent, that stern, expressionless face rarely changing.

Actually, both Director Feng and Director Dongfang were known for their quirky personalities. Some residents even joked that too much time in Anesthesiology, exposed to all those drugs, turned people into statues.

Supposedly, the theory went, it made their faces go numb, their expressions vanish—and their personalities stranger.

It definitely didn’t help Anesthesiology’s already tough time recruiting.

Traditionally, since many medical schools lacked a dedicated anesthesia program, hospitals would just pick new hires from among regular clinical grads.

Later they started recruiting from within their own various departments.

Mostly they’d bring in first-year residents.

A bit of training and they’d be ready to go.

“Director Feng, you can’t sit this one out! In the OR, anesthesia carries half the show. If you two aren’t there, the whole celebration feels off. You’ve both seen how my health is. Every day I get with you is precious.”

Something in Dr. Hu Kan’s words was tinged with sadness.

Given his health, that was no surprise.

With things at this point, Director Feng stopped refusing.

Half an hour later, the patient’s vitals stayed steady. No new heart problems cropped up.

Only then did everyone finally relax.

Orders had been written out long before. The patient was transferred to the Cardiothoracic Surgery ICU for focused monitoring to ensure a safe passage through the most vulnerable first 72 hours after surgery.

For a routine minor procedure, the critical post-op period is eight hours. If it’s more involved, sometimes twelve.

For major surgeries, the first twenty-four, even thirty-six hours, can be touch and go.

This was a high-risk cardiac operation. So the first seventy-two hours post-op were crucial. In older or frail patients with underlying conditions, monitoring could go on even longer.

Sometimes, if money is tight, a patient will go straight to a regular ward after a big surgery. But if the family ignores doctor’s orders, the patient can relapse and end up in intensive care anyway.

Other times, a patient is moved to ICU right after surgery, and the family thinks the doctor’s just trying to rack up the bill.

ICU care does cost way more than a regular ward.

Honestly, being a doctor isn’t easy.

…

In the break room, everyone dug into their midnight feast, all smiles.

Because of his health, Dr. Hu Kan was careful with what he ate. He could only join Director Feng in the corner with a carton of milk, chatting privately.

The rest of the staff clustered together, eating and laughing in lively groups.

The younger nurses and doctors, in particular, kept the conversation buzzing.

Director Xue and the others chimed in now and then, keeping things light and friendly.

Meanwhile, Director Dongfang Luoxue sat quietly, elegantly savoring her grilled fish.

When Dr. Hu Kan ordered, he really went all out—platters of lamb skewers and crayfish, tray after tray of chive stir-fry, spicy tofu, cabbage, and plenty of grilled fish.

It was a feast for the senses—plenty of variety, incredible aroma, and absolutely delicious.

Zhou Can helped himself to two marinated eggs and a box of chives.

He happened to notice Director Dongfang Luoxue had picked her grilled fish clean, leaving only the bones. When she glanced over at the table, she saw there was no more left.

There were just a few crayfish and some spicy tofu left.

She took out a napkin, wiped her hands and mouth, and waited for the evening to wind down.

From the way she acted, she didn’t seem to mind these lively gatherings. She might even have enjoyed them a little.

Not everyone with a cold and distant personality started out that way.

Sometimes, it’s just their upbringing—they learned to use frostiness as a shield.

“I haven’t touched this grilled fish yet. If you don’t mind, Director Dongfang, it’s yours!”

Zhou Can had been through his share of late-night meals with colleagues. When there’s a crowd, if you don’t grab your food early, you’re stuck just sipping soup at the end.

So he always made sure to get his favorites first.

He’d originally saved the grilled fish for last, but after seeing how much Director Dongfang liked it, he figured it might help smooth things over between them. He was bound to need her cooperation for future surgeries, and building good rapport with the head anesthesiologist was vital.

Especially with a fellow young chief anesthesiologist—chances to work together wouldn’t be rare.

Director Dongfang Luoxue looked up at Zhou Can, their eyes briefly meeting. Zhou Can’s expression was genuine, his gaze open and kind.

“Thank you.”

She hesitated for a few seconds, then actually accepted the fish. Internally, Zhou Can was thrilled.

“No need to worry about fish making you gain weight. Enjoy! See you around.”

Zhou Can knew she wasn’t big on small talk, so as soon as he handed over the fish, he made himself scarce.

Sure enough, she resumed eating, as elegantly as ever.

Women in their forties can actually eat quite a bit.

But to keep their shape, they have to summon incredible willpower to resist good food.

Wanting to look good is natural.

Honestly, you can tell how self-disciplined a woman is just by her figure.

Women past thirty—or after having kids—if life’s a bit comfortable, weight gain happens fast. Barrel waists, elephant legs, double chins, belly bulges, flabby arms—the usual suspects.

Yet here was Director Dongfang Luoxue, in her forties, still keeping an impressive shape.

Clearly, she was someone who lived with discipline.

Earlier in surgery, Zhou Can had first pointed out a minor EKG abnormality to her, but she brushed it aside. Later, when trouble hit, he was the first to diagnose the issue—and proved the heart had a hidden condition. If only she’d listened to his early warning and acted preemptively, maybe disaster could’ve been avoided.

Still, thanks to everyone’s effort, the patient pulled through.

She definitely bore some responsibility for what happened.

Even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Zhou Can had undoubtedly earned some points in her mind tonight.

The fact she accepted his grilled fish was proof they were off to a good start.

Forging real bonds just takes time.

People only grow closer as they gradually get to know and trust each other.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the group began to break up.

“Teacher, I don’t have any plans tonight. Let me give you a ride home!”

Zhou Can came up to Dr. Hu Kan and offered.

“No need, my son already brought the car around outside. It’s late, you should get some rest in the dorm.”

Who knows what Dr. Hu Kan and Director Feng had been talking about—but both looked cheerful now.

Their moods seemed genuinely positive.

“You promised to come to Anesthesiology to learn from me, you know! You barely showed up two or three times—that’s not nearly enough.” Director Feng gave him a pointed look.

“It’s not that I don’t value it—I just can’t find the time right now. Could you give me a break? Let me stick with Dr. Hu Kan for two or three years, master things here, and then I’ll come study under you.”

Some things just have to be prioritized.

For Zhou Can, learning anesthesia wasn’t urgently pressing.

But with Dr. Hu Kan’s health so poor, anything could happen. Zhou Can agreed to be his student—and he couldn’t bear to stand him up. He had to seize every moment to absorb as much advanced Cardiothoracic Surgery skill and the Steady Scalpel Technique as he could. That would only benefit both him and the department.

Director Xueyan, Dr. Hu Kan, and even Director Le and Dr. Long had all shown Zhou Can a lot of kindness and help.

Cardiothoracic Surgery was close to Zhou Can’s heart. He couldn’t just watch it collapse.

So he grabbed what time he could, determined to learn everything from Dr. Hu Kan as quickly as possible.

Only that way would he have the ability to help in critical moments.

“At least promise me you’ll visit me in Anesthesiology twice a month. That’s not asking much, right?” Director Feng sounded almost resigned.

“Deal!”

Zhou Can agreed without hesitation.

Having these senior doctors eager to teach him was an incredible opportunity. Normally, he’d only get two days off a month.

But sacrifices had to be made. He’d use those free days for extra study in Anesthesiology.

“Poor kid,” Dr. Hu Kan joked, shaking his head with a smile.

“Great responsibility forges strong hearts and bodies. For Zhou Can, that’s a blessing. Young people should hone their skills—it’s the only way to excel. Tuyu Hospital looks like it’s booming now, but, inevitably, good times end. I sense the hospital’s real crisis may hit within the next ten years. When it does, if people like Zhou Can and the next generation grow stronger than us, they’ll hold Tuyu Hospital’s future.”

Director Feng usually didn’t say much, but when he did, his words brimmed with insight and vision.

Turns out, quiet people aren’t silent—they just don’t waste their breath.

“Zhou Can, among the younger generation, you’re one of the most talented. Don’t get arrogant—keep your feet on the ground and push both your clinical and academic skills. Against most hospitals in the province, Tuyu stands out. But compared to the top ten national hospitals or some specialized institutions, we’re still behind. You have to work even harder.”

Director Feng was placing great hopes on his shoulders.

“I’ll give it my all, but please don’t expect too much from me. I’d hate to let you down.”

Zhou Can gave a solemn nod, accepting the charge.

“Getting a bit full of yourself, aren’t you? Tuyu’s always nurtured young talent. You’re not the only rising star—we have plenty!” Director Feng said lightly.

He was probably telling the truth.

After all, Tuyu Hospital’s focus on developing key talent in every department was a core strategic priority.

There were plenty of outstanding young doctors receiving resources—not just Zhou Can.

Like Directors Xueyan, Le, Dongfang Luoxue… all perfect examples of young elites.

…

In the blink of an eye, nine days flew by as Zhou Can stayed busy at the hospital.

Then, one day, he got a call from Mr. Li, asking him to come by the company.

He took time off, hurried over.

On the second-floor conference room of Jin Yu Interactive, the man in the CEO’s chair wasn’t Mr. Li, but a hard-edged, hawk-eyed man around fifty.

The man’s piercing stare landed on Zhou Can like a blade as he entered.

Two bodyguards in black stood behind him.

One of them Zhou Can recognized right away—the scar-faced guy he’d saved once during a morning run. The other was a stranger.

Mr. Li sat at the leftmost seat. On the right, sitting first, was none other than traitor Hu Wei, the male artist from Jin Yu Interactive.

Su Qianqian sat in the second seat on the right.

“You must be Mr. Zhou—Dr. Zhou, right?”

The middle-aged man at the head of the table asked in a calm tone.

“You must be Hu Haikun—Mr. Hu?”

Zhou Can had already figured out who he was dealing with.

It was Hu Haikun who masterminded the move to push Zhou Can out of Jin Yu Interactive.

Sometimes, trouble finds you even when you’re not looking for it. Zhou Can hadn’t provoked anyone—he quietly did his job as a doctor and quietly profited as a founding shareholder.

But the lure of big money brought Hu Haikun’s attention.

“There’s no seat for you in this meeting room. I like to be direct: you’re a doctor, so just be a doctor. Running a company isn’t necessary. Jin Yu Interactive’s reached this height thanks to the whole team’s efforts. And you—what have you really done for the company? If you’ve contributed nothing, why should you take half the profits?”

Hu Haikun put him on the spot, pulling no punches in front of the company’s higher-ups.

He was taking dead aim at Zhou Can, trying to undermine him.

Hostile takeovers weren’t new to Hu Haikun. In today’s world, you can’t just hold a knife to someone’s throat and force them out. That era’s long gone.

Instead, he schemed to sway everyone else in the company—turning them against Zhou Can, making them gladly help edge him out.