Chapter 416: Three Strategies for Reviving the Cardiothoracic Department

“Sister Xue, could you give some suggestions—no matter how rough—on the development strategy for Cardiothoracic Surgery?” This was the real reason Zhou Can called.

He’d actually wanted to discuss it that morning, but got called back to the Emergency Department in a hurry.

On top of that, Director Xueyan’s mood seemed unstable, so he’d held back.

“Come on, would you still call me ‘sister’ if you talk like that? Back when Director Hu passed, he entrusted Cardiothoracic Surgery to both of us. If this were a company, you’d be one of the biggest shareholders, you know!”

She emphasized Zhou Can’s importance to the department.

No one could replace Zhou Can’s unique position.

“Think back in history—when the Founder of the Ming Dynasty, Zhu Yuanzhang, asked his ministers for strategies to unify the realm. Let me borrow Zhu Sheng’s threefold strategy as advice for you, Sister Yan.” Zhou Can said this half-jokingly.

“I know the strategies Zhu Sheng suggested—build high walls, store lots of grain, don’t rush to be king! But you can’t just leave it at that; explain your three strategies in detail. If I misunderstand, it’ll be a mess.”

That touch of playfulness in her voice made it clear—she’d truly climbed out of last night’s abyss of despair.

It was a very good sign.

While Zhou Can was genuinely glad for her, he also thought quietly, “At least I didn’t let down Dr. Hu Kan’s trust. When I visit his grave during Qingming next year, I’ll be able to pour a drink with peace of mind.”

A man’s word means everything.

Zhou Can valued his promises—if he agreed to something, he’d never forget it.

“The ‘build high walls’ part means protecting everything the Cardiothoracic Surgery Department has now—both in clinical expertise and in safety. Like the saying goes, ‘A dead camel is still bigger than a horse.’ No matter how much Tuyu Hospital’s Cardiothoracic Surgery department has slipped, it used to be a top-tier team in the province. If we secure what we’ve achieved, no matter how aggressive other hospitals get, we’ll still stand strong for years to come.”

“By expertise, I mean our medical skillset—we need to keep upgrading our tools and training, always staying current.”

While Tuyu’s Cardiothoracic Surgery Department doesn’t have superstar surgeons, it still boasts a solid backbone.

As long as no one gets too greedy for credit or rushes in recklessly, they can easily handle the standard cardiothoracic cases.

As for safety, that goes without saying. Surgical safety, diagnostic safety, treatment safety, ward care safety—all of it has to be handled rigorously and thoroughly.

“Interesting. So you’re saying we should reinforce both our medical skills and patient safety, build up two invisible walls, and consolidate our current operations, right?”

“Exactly, Sister Yan! Couldn’t have said it better.”

Zhou Can loved sparring ideas with smart people.

“So what about storing grain?”

Director Xueyan found his comparison refreshingly original.

“It means improving service—both in quality and attitude. Maybe calling patients ‘gods’ like in the business world feels off, but I believe every patient and their family craves warmth when seeking help. They want to meet kind, responsible staff. Service quality links directly back to ‘high walls’—by upgrading doctors’ diagnostic skills and nurses’ professional care, we ensure quality. Pair that with a caring, responsible spirit, and patients and their families will naturally be happy.”

“If the patients and their families are happy, do you really think we’ll run short of people seeking treatment here?”

Zhou Can smiled as he asked.

Reputation may be intangible, but it’s the soul of a department—or even the entire hospital.

With a good reputation, families will spread the word, and patients will come in droves.

In the Emergency Department where Zhou Can worked, it had only been two months since he started leading the surgery team, but there were already some regulars coming back.

Many of them had good surgical outcomes here, so when family or friends needed help, they sent them to Tuyu too.

When Zhou Can did consultations in Pediatrics for over a year, even though he was just a resident, patients would often come looking for him specifically—despite his lower rank compared to attendings and chiefs.

The only real close call was when he set a boy’s dislocated shoulder.

He nearly got sued for missing a minor joint fracture. Fortunately, the hospital stepped in to mediate, produced strong evidence, and proved the fracture had occurred before Zhou Can did the adjustment—not during the procedure.

In the end, the matter was resolved peacefully.

That lesson stuck with Zhou Can for life.

“So ‘store grain’ is about that! I get it! Now, what about not rushing to be king?”

At that moment, Director Xueyan’s eyes shone bright and her face glowed.

What looked like three simple pieces of advice were actually a light guiding her out of darkness.

“Don’t be in a hurry to outshine the other hospitals. This is a diverse world with room for all kinds of talent. Even if we can’t be number one for the next few years, we can still thrive. Once you and the department grow further, I believe we’ll have the power to compete with anyone, anywhere.”

There was real foresight in Zhou Can’s recommendation.

Instead of fixating on gains and losses right now, keep the team united, keep upgrading quality of care and service, and let the department’s strength grow steadily.

Once we have the skill, chasing the number one spot won’t even matter.

But if we don’t have the skill and chase the title anyway, it’s just an empty honor—and that can backfire.

Empty titles do more harm than good. That’s what he meant.

“A while back, I got so caught up in my own ambition that I lost sight of everything else. Your three strategies have shown me the way. Zhou Can, thank you—for being my colleague, for being there during my darkest hour, and for fighting alongside me. I’m truly lucky to know you.”

Director Xueyan thanked him from the heart.

Ever since Director Hu left, what she really lacked was someone to point the way.

She used to think Zhou Can was too young to offer mature, steady advice, so for over a month, she hardly ever came to him with big issues.

Now she finally realized how shortsighted that was.

She’d had a top-notch strategist by her side all along yet chose to fight alone and ended up fumbling.

Thankfully, even though this setback hit her and the department hard, it wasn’t enough to bring them down.

From now on, she’d definitely seek Zhou Can’s input when problems came up.

“Fate is amazing, isn’t it? If I hadn’t met you, Sister Yan, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Remember how you helped me when I was taking my Physician’s Certification? I’ve always wanted to repay that kindness. I really look forward to fighting by your side.”

Zhou Can could feel his and Xueyan’s hearts coming together—

Not as lovers, but as comrades and the truest of friends.

What’s a true comrade?

It’s someone you can trust completely on the front lines, someone you’d trust with your life and your back—that’s a comrade.

…

When he got home, just as expected, Su Qianqian was waiting up for him.

The warmth of home wrapped around Zhou Can, making him fall for it over and over.

“Qianqian, if I ever come home too late, you should just go to bed! I don’t want you sleep-deprived because of me.”

He hugged her tight.

“It’s fine! I’ve gotten used to you being part of my life and my world now. Unless I see you come home safe, I just can’t fall asleep. Besides, I wasn’t just waiting around—I wrote a new song!”

Music was Su Qianqian’s greatest passion.

Singing was just one part of it.

A real song, strictly speaking, has several elements.

Inspiration goes without saying.

You need lyrics, a melody, and a performance. Each one is essential.

Of these, the melody is the heart and soul of a song.

Lyrics matter, too—but compared to melody, they’re far less crucial.

Finally, there’s the performance. For a song to truly make it, having the right singer is just as important.

Su Qianqian, for example, was best at pure, sweet songs.

Some hit songs get covered a lot, but most covers don’t sound quite as good as the original. Still, sometimes a cover beats the original—even bigger hits.

It all comes down to whether a singer fits the song.

The more in tune you are with a song, the more beautiful it will sound.

Many famous hits have original singers who pour their hearts into every note—not just making listeners cry, but even shedding tears themselves in private.

“I couldn’t carry a tune if my life depended on it, so showing me sheet music is basically a waste!” Zhou Can teased, self-deprecating.

He grinned at his own joke.

“Don’t try to fool me! You’re a piano whiz—if you don’t understand music, there’s barely anyone qualified to say they do.”

In Su Qianqian’s eyes, her man was the very best in the world.

“By the way, did you drink your herbal kidney tonic today?”

Zhou Can asked gently.

When Su Qianqian said that Zhou Can was already part of her life, he felt exactly the same.

She meant everything to him.

It was a shame though—those two main herbs were so hard to find, but worrying wouldn’t help.

“I drank it!”

Suddenly, Su Qianqian hugged him tightly, resting her head in his arms.

“What’s wrong? Was the medicine bitter?”

He stroked her back and hair, aching for her.

“No. I can deal with any bitterness. What scares me is that my illness won’t get better, and I’ll mess up your future. If there’s never any hope…”

She couldn’t finish her thought, but worry filled Zhou Can’s heart.

Unlike most girls, Su Qianqian had a strong personality. He worried that, in the end, she might do something she’d regret.

“Don’t say silly things. Even if you can’t recover, you’ll still be my wife. In fact, I think we should get our marriage certificate tomorrow and talk to both families about planning a wedding. My mom has been pushing us to get married anyway—might as well make her happy.”

Zhou Can didn’t care about the rest.

Even if she needed his care the rest of her life, or could never have children—he’d still marry her, no question.

When love runs deep, commitment follows naturally.

True love isn’t just sweet—it’s also about standing by each other and carrying those memories deep in your bones.

“No. I won’t agree. I have to get better before I become your bride.”

She loved Zhou Can from the depths of her soul—afraid of holding him back.

“Alright, alright—we won’t talk about it now. Don’t get stressed, okay?”

He could feel her becoming emotional, maybe even crying. Zhou Can hurried to comfort her.

After showering, he lay in bed with Su Qianqian in his arms, but couldn’t fall asleep at all.

Just two medicinal herbs—and yet, he refused to believe they couldn’t be found.

He realized he couldn’t just wait—he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

If Rui Enterprises didn’t have the herbs, he’d look elsewhere—even from private suppliers.

Now that the internet was so advanced, maybe he could ask for help online and fulfill this wish quickly.

Money can make miracles happen.

Zhou Can resolved to try posting a reward.

A high-priced online search for herbs might not be the best plan, but it was worth a shot.

Now that he had a plan, he started thinking carefully about the details to refine them.

With his mind adrift, he finally drifted off to sleep.

The next day, he went to work as usual. First thing, he checked the gangrene patient’s wound, learning as much as he could about the symptoms and exam findings.

Some necrotic tissue around the wound was now clearly distinguishable.

Blood flow had returned, nutrition was back on track, and antibiotics were still in use.

After the initial debridement and open drainage, the wound hadn’t deteriorated any further.

Altogether, these positive factors gave the patient a second chance at surgery.

“Draw his blood for tests, and have the results sent to either me or Dr. Xu. With his obvious improvement, we can probably schedule the second debridement this afternoon.”

Zhou Can gave these instructions to Jiang Shuangshuang and the on-duty nurse.

“No problem!”

Both of them respected Zhou Can, agreeing readily.

Zhou Can made his rounds with the other patients, too. He always preferred to check the wards morning and evening.

That way, he could spot issues early.

After rounds, he saw a nurse rushing a patient quickly into the resuscitation room.

A group of five or six family members, faces full of grief, followed close behind.

This was all too common in the Emergency Department—every day, patients in urgent need came for emergency care.

The ER only handled resuscitation, not ongoing treatment—there simply wasn’t the capacity.

Normally, after stabilizing a patient’s vital signs, staff would immediately contact the relevant department to admit them.

Sometimes, patients were too ill to save, and passed away.

Here, death was a daily reality—often more than once a day.

Zhou Can didn’t get involved—he’d long since grown used to it. He went straight to the operating room to take on a new day’s challenge.

A bit after three in the afternoon, the gangrene patient was brought in for the second debridement.

Zhou Can carefully removed all the necrotic tissue, cleaning up any superficial pus as well. Any hard scab that wasn’t turning soft could stay.

Soon, new tissue would start to grow underneath.

The patient’s second surgery went very smoothly. So long as there were no new complications, he’d keep his leg.