Chapter 403: Choices and Consequences in Medicine

You might be able to have your cake and eat it too with some things, but there are choices in life where you can only pick one or the other.

Take those people around us who are always looking to take advantage of others—they rarely succeed in their careers and just keep falling behind as time goes on.

It’s not that they’re not smart or capable, but that they’ve made a habit out of petty scheming. People only need to be burned by them once or twice before they start avoiding them—or at the very least, keeping their guard up.

Just imagine: there’s a great opportunity to work together, but as soon as someone remembers how much this person likes petty gains, they’ll think, ‘If we work together, I’ll just end up being tricked.’ So they’d rather choose someone else.

At company dinners or group events, everyone tries their best to steer clear of these folks.

Go out for a meal with them, and not only do you end up footing the bill, but they’ll even sneak off with a pack of cigarettes or drinks. So disgusting.

Bit by bit, these penny-pinchers ruin every good relationship they have. No wonder life keeps pushing them down—they’re doomed to work hard all their lives, right at the bottom rung of society.

If you become a doctor and only care about money—constantly scheming how to cash in—then all your time and energy gets spent on finding ways to squeeze patients dry.

Naturally, your pursuit of real medical skill falls further and further behind.

Sooner or later, that path leads you astray. If you’re lucky, you just scrape by; if not, you might end up in trouble with the law.

Anyone chasing true greatness in medicine would never go down that road. They’d never reach it, not in a whole lifetime.

Zhou Can’s skill keeps improving not just because of his system and talent, but because he truly loves and devotes himself to medicine. He doesn’t need to stress about money—his only concern is healing patients, speeding up their recovery, and giving them the best treatment he can.

He’s nothing like those shady doctors who, knowing a patient has a fibroid, still deliberately prescribe a bunch of unnecessary meds. They tell the patient to take them for a while, and only when the fibroid’s grown to almost ten centimeters do they announce that surgery’s the only solution.

And there are even worse cases. In a certain oncology hospital, doctors already know a patient is beyond saving but still say, ‘Sadly, we can’t do much here. But I’ve heard a certain other hospital is really skilled at treating late-stage cancer like yours—they can ease your pain and maybe extend your life a bit.’

At that point, the patient—utterly desperate—sees this last hope as their lifeline and obediently transfers to the recommended hospital.

Little do they know that the head oncologist at the new hospital is the same guy who jumped ship from the one before.

Back at his last job, he was at the bottom of the pecking order.

There were just too many talented chief physicians around.

But after moving to this new place, his status soared—he became the head of the oncology department overnight.

So, nearly every late-stage patient who couldn’t be helped at the old hospital gets funneled here. Out come all the pricey imported drugs and fancy treatments, one after another. They’ll milk the patient and family for every penny before letting the patient die.

By the end, when the patient’s on their last legs, they still feel grateful to the very doctor who exploited them.

‘Thank you so much, doctor—your dedication and kindness let me live this long,’ they’ll say.

See, when the previous hospital had given up, the expectations were already rock-bottom. So even this outcome feels like a win.

But often, it’s the truly good doctors who, realizing there’s nothing more that can be done, try to save families from losing both their loved one and their money by urging them to stop treatment. For trying to spare them, they end up being called cold-hearted by the patients and their families.

It’s no wonder the world feels so upside-down sometimes.

Normally, Zhou Can never lectures Luo Shishen about life philosophies like this.

But perhaps hearing Luo Shishen call him ‘Master’ gave him a sense of responsibility as a mentor.

At the very least, he wanted to put Luo Shishen on the right path and keep him from straying.

“If doctors didn’t care about money, then who’d even want to be a doctor?” Clearly, Luo Shishen’s perspective didn’t match Zhou Can’s level—he just couldn’t get it.

“Exactly! If it weren’t for the salary, who’d willingly suffer all this as a doctor or nurse? We get yelled at by patients and families, harassed, and bullied by some disgusting male doctors making all sorts of excuses.”

Ma Xiaolan joined in from the side.

Workplace harassment is all too common for women.

Hospitals may seem sacred, but in reality, they’re hotspots for it.

There was an associate chief physician in his fifties with grown-up kids, yet he still made excuses to call a young nurse in her twenties to his office. She ended up running out in tears and reporting it to the police.

No need to elaborate on what happened after. The associate chief denied it all.

The police picked him up, but he was soon back at work.

To this day, he works at the hospital like nothing happened—his position untouched. The only one who suffered was the nurse, who quit shortly after. This really did happen.

Lots of people in the department, especially nurses and female doctors, rant about that associate chief privately: how can someone old enough to be a dad do such things?

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“What Dr. Zhou means isn’t that we shouldn’t want a salary. Who doesn’t love a pay raise? That’s part of why we work so hard. But if we only work for the money, our skills will stagnate. When every decision comes down to money, we lose our original goals and the reason we became doctors or nurses in the first place. Isn’t that right?”

Qiao Yu’s last line was obviously directed at Zhou Can.

“Now that’s the right mindset! All of you should learn from Qiao Yu. Maybe you don’t fully understand yet, but remember what I said: don’t let money be your only guide. If you want to succeed as a doctor or nurse, you have to care about more than just the paycheck.”

Zhou Can looked at Qiao Yu with even greater appreciation.

She was the most principled nurse he’d ever met.

Others might be more ambitious, sure, but their goals weren’t as clear as Qiao Yu’s. They chased higher positions, fancy titles, and bigger paychecks, while Qiao Yu stayed true to her ideals, determined to make her mark in nursing.

So naturally, she started thinking about studying abroad.

The one thing people can create from nothing is a dream.

Plenty of childhood dreams become reality. It’s no different for adults—if you have a dream, chances are you’ll at least end up somewhere good.

By the time they arrived at General Cheng’s Sichuan Restaurant, the city lights were already twinkling.

They’d already gotten off work late today as it was.

The place was still buzzing, packed with hungry diners. With so many regulars, you knew the food and service here had to be top notch.

“Welcome! Table for four, right this way!”

A waitress in a short jacket greeted them at the door.

“There’s an empty table over there—is that all right?”

She called out warmly to the group.

“That’s fine!”

Zhou Can was always one to blend in—he never fussed over what he ate or where he stayed.

He could live in a villa or hospital dorms, he didn’t care.

But now that he had a girlfriend, crashing at the hospital dorms just wouldn’t do. He hardly stayed at the apartment anymore.

Even all his equipment for practicing medicine was moved into the house he shared with Su Qianqian.

What man wouldn’t want the warmth of a bed shared with the woman he loves?

These days, the apartment was basically Jin Mingxi’s personal place.

“Here’s the menu. What would you like to order?”

“Qiao Yu, you choose. You’ve been here a few times—you know what’s good.”

Zhou Can figured she was familiar with the place, so letting her order made sense.

“No need to save money for my sake—just get whatever sounds good. Ma Xiaolan, Dr. Luo, you two order whatever you like too. Don’t hold back if something on the menu catches your eye.”

Whenever Zhou Can treated his team, he never skimped.

Even late-night snacks or milk tea with coworkers—he was always willing to spend.

You can only rely on people who’ve enjoyed your generosity.

After all, when work got busy, those same colleagues were always happy to help him out.

Qiao Yu picked out four dishes—a balanced mix of meat and veggies, sensible in both nutrition and cost.

Luo Shishen looked at the menu and added their specialty meat pie—fifteen yuan for five, a total steal at that price.

Ma Xiaolan, meanwhile, pointed at a spicy beef dish priced at a whopping 158 yuan.

“Dr. Zhou, can I order this?”

There was no way Zhou Can would turn her down when she asked like that.

“Of course, go ahead. Just one rule: don’t waste food.”

He didn’t care about spending a couple hundred here or there.

But compared to Qiao Yu and Luo Shishen, Ma Xiaolan’s manners fell short.

She saw his BMW and immediately tried to snag the front passenger seat. Don’t underestimate her—she knew exactly what sitting up front meant. Deep down, she wanted the seat and everything it symbolized.

Meanwhile, Qiao Yu’s choices showed her careful, thoughtful nature—a perfectly balanced, nutritious, and reasonably priced spread.

But Ma Xiaolan, thinking Zhou Can had money to spare, brazenly ordered the most expensive dish.

Little details like this only hurt people’s impression of her.

“We’ll take one, then!”

Ma Xiaolan placed the order with the waitress.

“Great! Please enjoy your appetizers while you wait. Everything’s cooked fresh, so it may take a bit.”

The waitress bustled off to the kitchen, order in hand.

“Thank you, Dr. Zhou!”

Ma Xiaolan eagerly poured water for Zhou Can, playing the attentive host.

“Don’t mention it—just enjoy the meal.”

Of course, Zhou Can wasn’t bothered by something so trivial.

“Look over there—those two guys, aren’t they from an ethnic minority?”

Qiao Yu pointed to a table in the corner.

Ethnic minorities aren’t rare anymore—they’re already woven into everyday society. Usually, their clothes look just like anyone else’s; only on major holidays do they dress in traditional clothing.

That’s when you see their unique styles and bright colors.

Even the Japanese may have borrowed from our traditions—with many people thinking all Japanese wear kimonos. Actually, kimonos are expensive—at least two or three thousand yuan for the cheapest.

Most families only buy a kimono for their child’s coming-of-age ceremony—it’s a huge investment.

And kimonos are only worn on special occasions, never as everyday clothes.

Zhou Can glanced where Qiao Yu indicated, spotting two middle-aged men—one tall, one short, both stocky—dressed in distinctive clothes and wearing headscarves.

“They’re probably Tibetans!”

Zhou Can’s broad experience gave him an edge. That’s one perk of growing up wealthy—you get to see more of the world.

He’d traveled across the country without ever having to worry about the cost.

For most kids, some families can barely even scrape together school fees, let alone take a trip.

“Their outfits are so unique! And they sure have a lot of food on their table.”

Qiao Yu gave Zhou Can an admiring look before turning back to stare at the men.

In the border regions, it’s freezing cold and harsh. Generations survived by eating lots of meat and drinking plenty of liquor.

In places like Mongolia, missing even one meal of meat leaves people uneasy.

Just eating plain rice and greens? They can’t even imagine it.

Whole steaks, blood sausage, and whole lambs are everyday foods for them. They actually eat horse less often, since horses are their main mode of travel.

Before cars, horses were the only way to get around.

It’s like how most people in southern China raise dogs for protection but rarely eat dog meat—those who love their pets can’t bear the thought.

It’s the same with horses; unless one dies, they almost never eat horse meat out of affection.

Zhou Can noticed both men had large bags with them, though he couldn’t see what was inside.

He guessed they were new arrivals in the provincial capital, trying to find their way.

After a few glances, he lost interest.

When the men finished eating, they didn’t rush to leave. The waitress didn’t dare push them, either. The two sat drinking and chatting, glancing every so often toward the door.

Meanwhile, the first dish arrived at Zhou Can’s table.

Just then, a short, stocky man in a black coat hurried into the restaurant. Scanning the room, he quickly spotted the two minority men.

He strode right over.

After a quick exchange, the two men opened their bags to reveal what was inside.

Bundles of traditional medicinal herbs were packed tightly inside.

So that’s it—they were herbal traders from the border regions.

After some negotiation, the deal fell through and the man in black left, clearly unhappy.

“Eat up. I’m going to take a look.”

Zhou Can never used to care about these kinds of herbs, but ever since he started searching for two primary ingredients for Su Qianqian, he’d been extra alert for any possible leads.

He made his way over to the men’s table.

“Hey there, gentlemen!”

Zhou Can put on a friendly smile as he greeted them.

“Hello!”

The shorter man smiled back.

He was relieved they spoke Mandarin, not just their native dialect.

“I saw you had herbal medicine in your bags earlier—are you here to sell some?”

He asked directly.

“That’s right!”

Both men eyed Zhou Can a bit warily.

“I’m a doctor—here’s my ID. I’m actually looking to buy herbs, too.”

Thinking quickly, Zhou Can handed over his credentials first to win their trust.

Then he told them he was in the market for medicinal herbs himself.

If he’d just said what two plants he needed, they might’ve shut him down with a quick ‘no’ and moved on.

After all, money always makes people tick.

Their herbs had just failed to sell, so they were probably anxious to find a buyer. That gave Zhou Can an opening.

“So what kind of herbs are you after? Ours are all wild-sourced, mind you—not cheap.”

The shorter man took the lead while the taller stayed quiet.

“Can I have a look at your stock? Our hospital needs lots of herbs, but price and quality both matter.”

Zhou Can left room for negotiation.

This way, if he wasn’t satisfied, he could just walk away.

The short man hesitated a few seconds, then finally opened the bag for him.

“They’re all wild, right?”

“Of course!”

The man replied with pride.

“I’ll take them all. How much for everything?”

Zhou Can was feeling generous. If the price was reasonable, he’d buy it all and maybe even get these men to help find the two rare herbs he needed.

Especially since he still hadn’t tracked down the Rainbow Toad anywhere.

According to historical records, the last three were seen in Nepal back in 1924. Nothing since then.