Chapter 470: After the Operation: Reverberations in the Department

Even if Zhou Can hadn’t said a word, Director Le likely already knew the choice of surgical plan was a misstep.

But surgery is like that—once you’ve started, there’s rarely a way to backtrack. And let’s be real, even if a patient does die after the operation, the doctor isn’t held personally responsible.

There’s really no way to take on that kind of responsibility.

Before every procedure, the patient and family have a pre-op talk, and the family signs off for consent.

That consent form isn’t just for show.

Director Le surely made the original plan with the best intentions, hoping for a good result. No one wants to see an unexpected or disappointing outcome after surgery.

So even if they’re prepping for a second surgery this time, when it comes time to talk with the family, the hospital will never admit to any mistakes.

They’ll just stick to procedure.

In this way, patients are always at a disadvantage.

“Can I trouble you to come over after work tonight? We’ll discuss the plan for the second surgery, then I’ll update the family.”

Director Le was much more cautious this time around.

After all, they’re already a chief physician. Young for that rank, sure, but with over a decade of practical experience—plenty of run-ins with tricky post-op complications.

“No problem!”

Zhou Can agreed without hesitation.

If it’s a colleague he knows well asking for help and he can do something, he’s always willing to step in.

Director Le knew Zhou Can was swamped during the day, so deliberately scheduled for the evening after work.

That was a show of respect and goodwill.

……

After his shift, Zhou Can hurried off to make rounds in the inpatient ward.

Morning and evening rounds are part of his daily routine.

The department does look out for him—in addition to surgery, one day a week of Emergency Department consultations, and the twice-daily rounds, they’re careful not to assign him any more work unless a tough rescue case pops up and they really need him.

Ye Tingting had already been discharged and was recuperating at home.

Her bed was now occupied by a new post-op patient—one Zhou Can had operated on himself.

Rounds went smoothly. Ever since Dr. Lu—the ‘wild card’—was reassigned, post-op problems among inpatients in the Emergency Department had dropped to almost zero.

Any higher-risk or advanced surgeries are handled personally by either Zhou Can or Dr. Xu.

Even for the likes of Dr. Fu and Dr. Cui, both attending physicians, they’re at most there to observe and learn.

It’s worth noting that Dr. Cui already had solid surgical skills, and after passing his attending physician exams, he was just as competent as a junior attending. In fact, he was better than most new surgical attendings.

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He’s a quick learner, diligent in his work, and has a decent knack for surgery too.

No wonder he’s regarded as a key surgical trainee in the Emergency Department’s operating room.

As for Dr. Fu Chachun, he’s more likely to stay an attending until retirement.

A person’s attitude often determines just how far they’ll go in their career.

And honestly, Dr. Fu doesn’t have any particular flair for surgery. He’s too old now anyway, long past the age for tireless ambition.

He was still doing rounds when Director Tang from Pediatrics called.

“Director Tang, don’t tell me you’ve got another puzzling new case?”

Zhou Can almost joked with her. After all, he’d already made her husband jealous yesterday with all their frequent calls. Wouldn’t want to push it and give her husband more reason to worry.

Thinking it over, he kept that joke to himself.

Their relationship is friendly, but not close enough for risqué jokes.

If he crossed a line and she got upset, that would make working together later pretty awkward.

In the workplace, keeping your mouth in check comes first. If it’s something you shouldn’t say, don’t say it at all.

“Haha, relax! I’m not calling you to take on another tough case. This time, it’s good news! You picking up means you’re done with surgery. If you don’t have anything urgent, come by—I won’t keep you long.”

Dr. Tang Fei was clearly amused, but kept whatever news she had up her sleeve.

The whole thing felt cloaked in mystery.

Given her seniority, she’s way above Zhou Can in rank.

Dealing with her always puts Zhou Can on the weaker side.

“So what’s going on, all mysterious? I’ve still got seven beds left to check—I’ll drop by your office in about twenty minutes.”

He hung up and continued his rounds.

If he were only checking post-op surgery patients, he’d have finished long ago.

But the Emergency Internal Medicine inpatients are also his responsibility. With each new patient, he needs to be thorough and get all their details—which really piles on the workload.

Especially at night, new admissions are nonstop.

But Zhou Can long ago got used to it.

Plus, digging into every patient’s history and symptoms during rounds is great for improving his diagnostic skills.

The Emergency Internal Medicine docs are pretty self-aware—when admitting difficult or tough-to-manage patients, they try to offload them to the right specialties, keeping the easier, more profitable cases for themselves.

When it comes to picking patients, the Emergency Department really does enjoy some perks that make the other departments jealous.

Of course, all this is strictly on the down-low. Anyone dumb enough to say it out loud is asking for trouble.

Zhou Can finished his rounds as quickly as possible and made it to Pediatrics in about thirty minutes—not bad, considering he’d promised twenty.

Twenty-nine minutes is still in the twenty-something range.

He could only console himself with that little math cheat.

Dr. Tang Fei’s office door was wide open—maybe ever since her husband’s misunderstanding yesterday, she’s gotten extra careful.

Don’t be fooled by her easygoing manner—it’s just a mask.

Women all have their pride.

Especially someone like her—head of Pediatrics and Chief Neonatologist. That reputation matters even more.

Of course she considers her husband’s feelings.

No one wants a minor misunderstanding to turn into a family blow-up, let alone a marriage crisis.

For most steady, faithful women, family really is everything. Even if they’re treated unfairly at work, they come home and take care of husband and kids, doing all the chores, but never think lightly of divorce.

If you’ve married a gold digger or someone who can’t settle down, the only smart move is to let go early.

With some materialistic women, you could give up everything for them and they’d still never be satisfied—no point trying to hold on.

Better to let them walk while you can.

The worst is those hopelessly devoted men who keep forgiving and compromising for partners who’ll never be kept. That sort of endless patience only leads to heartbreak.

Zhou Can stopped at the doorway and knocked on the door frame.

It was just good manners.

Even walking into Director Xueyan’s office, he always knocked and waited for permission.

“Dr. Zhou, you’re here! Come on in!”

Dr. Tang Fei was chatting with a middle-aged couple. The man looked to be in his forties, commanding and imposing, his every gesture radiating authority. Just being near him made the air feel dense.

That kind of pressure felt awfully familiar for Zhou Can. It was classic official ‘aura.’

It reminded him of being around people like Deputy Director Zhu—they cast this heavy, invisible shadow.

If Dr. Tang Fei is being this enthusiastic, her guests must be heavyweights in their own right.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t get a private audience like this.

And no, that’s not an exaggeration. Even if it’s her own patients, the day-to-day rounds, pre-op talks, discharge paperwork—all usually delegated to other doctors. She’s largely the third line of defense, just overseeing things.

Like reviewing how the interns are writing up their case notes.

If she spots a problem, she’ll correct it on the spot.

For her to take on an intern herself? Unless they’re a talent like Zhou Can, it’s only ever for higher-ranked attendings.

Don’t let Zhou Can’s casual calls and WeChat messages fool you—most doctors would never get that kind of access.

Everyone knows how the world works.

The woman sitting next to the middle-aged man looked shockingly young, maybe just over twenty at first glance.

But Zhou Can’s doctor’s eye caught the truth—she was at least forty.

Her presence radiated a similar authority, a kind of innate charisma. When you’re strong enough and have seen enough of the world, you naturally develop that kind of aura.

They have the skills—and the life experience—to handle any crisis, to make decisions shaping countless lives. Over time, power leaves a mark.

And it’s only natural that, with enough time, that sense of command grows.

Back in ancient times, every few years, local officials had to report in person to the imperial court. On TV, you’d see county magistrates and even governors kneeling on palace steps, too nervous to even raise their heads.

That’s no exaggeration.

Ancient chronicles and official memoirs mention it time and again.

After an imperial audience, many officials couldn’t even tell you what the emperor looked like—they never dared lift their eyes to the dragon throne.

Emperors held absolute power: military, government, finances, even the divine right to rule.

If he took offense at anyone, even on a whim, his fury could literally mean a death sentence.

Seeing this couple’s presence, Zhou Can more or less guessed who they might be.

Just then, the couple both turned to look at him.

He gave them a polite nod in greeting.

After all, he was worth a sizable fortune himself. Maybe not at the level of a billionaire like the woman here, but the gap wasn’t insurmountable.

If Gold Entertainment ever went public, his net worth could shoot past a billion overnight.

“Let me introduce you—this is Dr. Zhou Can, the one who identified the real cause of your son’s illness,” Dr. Tang Fei announced, elevating Zhou Can’s position in one phrase.

She even called him a key figure.

“Dr. Zhou, thank you! If not for you, we might never have found the cause of our child’s illness.”

“Without your hard work, along with the other pediatric experts at Tuyu Hospital, we’d still be beside ourselves with worry. Our child’s illness kept coming back, and even the big-name hospitals couldn’t help. Now, at least, we have a clear diagnosis and some confidence in recovery.”

The couple both stood up and thanked Zhou Can.

They shook hands.

“This is the child’s father, Mr. Ling Shaozuo. And this is his mother, Ms. Hu Chunying.”

Dr. Tang Fei discreetly introduced their names, without mentioning titles or backgrounds—an elegant touch.

Not announcing their high status helps the conversation stay relaxed and equal. Otherwise, it’d only make things awkward.

And it would make the doctors seem self-serving, as if they were only being attentive to important people.

“How is your son doing now?”

Zhou Can kept things smooth and professional, shifting right to the child’s care.

“He’s getting the best treatment, and I truly believe he’s improving. Tonight, he managed a little food and didn’t throw up, though he still feels nauseous. I can sense real progress.”

The child’s mother replied.

Working with well-educated families like this is much easier.

They aren’t like some families, desperate for instant results and quick to doubt if improvement isn’t immediate.

“Your son’s condition is a chronic one, celiac disease. He’s had it for at least eight months. Getting sick can seem sudden, but recovery is slow and takes real dedication. What matters most is your patience and trust in our care team—that’s how we succeed.”

Zhou Can guessed that Dr. Tang Fei had already explained as much to the family.

But he still repeated the message, reinforcing their compliance and trust.

“We absolutely trust the hospital team. Professionals should handle what they’re trained for—we know we’re in good hands.”

The father added warmly.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Dr. Zhou. Once our child’s health stabilizes, we’d love to thank you and the whole team in person. If it’s possible, could we get your number? Dr. Tang mentioned we might be able to continue treatment at home in a few days; if we have questions, it would help to reach out.”

Even before he finished, the mother was already handing over a business card, smiling politely.

“My husband works in the public sector, but here’s my card—I run a highway company. If you ever need anything, Dr. Zhou, just reach out to me.”

The couple was perfectly in sync—sharing their identity without flaunting it.

It was a mark of true depth.

The more capable someone is, and the longer they’ve been in big business, the more humility they show. They know how to show strength without arrogance.

Especially when mentioning the father’s work—she simply called it a public job.

Sure, Zhou Can had solved the mystery of their son’s illness, but at most, gratitude is expressed in person, and maybe dinner later. Offering contact info and help is already more than enough.

It’s not like they’d mobilize the father’s influence just for this.

And honestly, it doesn’t call for that anyway.

“Wow, owning a highway company isn’t easy these days! I’ll hang on to this card—if I’m ever driving your route, maybe I can even ask for a discount!”

That last bit was, of course, just a joke.