Chapter 581: The Strength at the Heart of the ER

Compared to Dr. Fu, Zhou Can carries even more weight.

The Emergency Department could survive without Dr. Fu, but it can’t lose its sharpest scalpel—Zhou Can.

While Zhou Can’s surgical skills might not quite match Dr. Xu’s right now, the number of surgeries he’s performed is leagues ahead. Not to mention, the quality of his work is a cut above.

He’s not just the department’s top gun—he leads both in volume and in excellence. Whether it’s the resuscitation room, ICU, or inpatient ward, Zhou Can’s support is absolutely essential.

Whenever a VIP or an extremely critical patient comes to the resuscitation room, Zhou Can is the first person they call.

And for good reason—when things get tough, he’s the one who always comes through.

Zhou Can also has incredibly close ties with multiple departments.

The department heads and chief physicians from Pediatrics, Cardiothoracic Surgery, Obstetrics, and General Surgery all have deep connections with him. Even the usually aloof Neurology Department treats Zhou Can with newfound respect.

Whenever Director Yin Hua comes to the ER for a consult, his first question is always, “Where’s Zhou Can?”

As for Director Tan of Internal Medicine, he’s even friendlier. Every time he sees Zhou Can, it’s like running into his own son.

So, Zhou Can isn’t just the technical core of the Emergency Department—he’s also its ultimate connector.

He bridges the ER with all the powerhouse departments.

Thanks to Zhou Can, the ER now boasts inpatient wards for both internal and surgical patients, level 100 and level 10,000 sterile operating rooms, and an expanding endoscopy suite, one after another. The ICU has the full backing of Critical Care… Every major breakthrough and project ties back to Zhou Can.

If Zhou Can were ever forced out, Director Xie would be the first to demand the ER’s surgical inpatient ward be shut down.

The Emergency Department openly competes with Surgery for cases. Director Xie doesn’t like it, but there’s nothing he can do.

By now, Zhou Can’s grown strong enough that even Director Xie—despite heading all of Surgery—can’t shake his position.

After all, many major surgical departments maintain strong relationships with Zhou Can.

Getting all those department heads to join Xie in opposing Zhou Can? That’s pretty much impossible.

Back when the ER first started its inpatient ward last year, Director Xie practically blew a fuse and hastily called a meeting with the surgical department heads. The topic? How to stop the ER from launching inpatient care.

Much to his dismay, Director Xueyan from Cardiothoracic, Director Liu from General Surgery, Director Xiao, Director Shen from Orthopedics, and the others all urged him not to make a mountain out of a molehill.

They even argued that the Emergency Department is Tuyu Hospital’s calling card—its growth could attract more patients for everyone.

They encouraged Director Xie to take the long view, not to fixate on short-term gains.

By the time the meeting ended, Director Xie was so upset his face was twitching and his mouth was crooked for days.

After that, he never raised the idea of suppressing the ER again.

All those department heads? Zhou Can’s won them over so thoroughly they now lean his way in every dispute.

Because of Zhou Can’s massive influence, Director Lou now has to carefully consider his feelings when dealing with Dr. Fu Chachun’s situation.

“Old Fu, it’s hard to build an empire—but even harder to keep it.”

“You’re right! Absolutely right!”

Fu Chachun lowered his head, not daring to meet Director Lou’s eyes.

He wasn’t stupid. With things spelled out this clearly, of course he understood the deeper meaning behind Director Lou’s words.

“These are all the surgeries you’ve led in the last three months. Your dissatisfied feedback rate is 47%, nearly half. Of those, the ‘particularly dissatisfied’ cases make up 24%. Except for a few patients with objective causes, most issues stem from complications after surgery. Take a good look at this!”

Director Lou always covers every base—nothing escapes his notice.

He’d even printed out all of Fu Chachun’s surgical stats from the past three months.

When he picked up the thick, stapled stack from his desk, there were at least twenty reports.

It was clear: after Zhou Can reported the issue earlier that morning, Director Lou got right to work.

He probably pulled the surgical stats for every ER surgeon. Surgeries with dissatisfied follow-ups and severe problems—all laid out in black and white.

With this kind of detailed data, Director Lou could clearly see how every surgeon was performing.

Who’s careless in the OR, who ignores their patient’s post-op recovery—it was all crystal clear.

When Fu Chachun took the paperwork, disbelief was written plain on his face.

But as he read through the tables, his expression shifted from doubt to outright shock, embarrassment slowly coloring his cheeks.

“See? Sometimes you just don’t know until you see it in black and white.”

Director Lou’s voice stayed calm and gentle.

But Fu Chachun looked even more anxious.

“I know you were really disappointed when Zhou Can was promoted to deputy leader of the OR instead of you six months ago. Felt like the department didn’t value old-timers like you. But look at this data.”

Director Lou pulled out another report from the pile and handed it to Fu Chachun.

This one was the thickest by far—at least twenty pages long.

“Why is the satisfaction rate in this surgical report so high? And there are so many cases! Is this all the top-quality surgery from the department?”

Fu Chachun flipped through it quickly, and the deeper he looked, the more shocked he became.

He glanced up, a sudden realization lighting up his eyes as he looked at Zhou Can.

“Are you telling me all these surgeries were done by Dr. Zhou?”

“That’s right. The report in your hands shows all the surgeries Zhou Can performed over the past three months. A total of 1,841 cases. More than a third were grade-three procedures—the rest were mostly complex grade-two, and first-level surgeries make up just about 10%. And even those were all high-difficulty, high-standard cases.”

Director Lou nodded gravely.

“Old Fu, now you see why Zhou Can was promoted and you weren’t? Age and experience alone aren’t enough. We’ve never denied the contributions of our veteran doctors, but you need to keep growing and maintain the right attitude. If you dwell on your past glory, you’ll never move forward.”

By now, Fu Chachun was deeply ashamed.

There was no faking these stats—the gap between him and Zhou Can was painfully clear.

They were worlds apart—one soars in the sky, the other’s stuck in the dirt.

It was laughable. He’d always thought that even if he did a few fewer surgeries than Zhou Can, the difference couldn’t be that big.

But his blind optimism had obscured reality.

He’d never truly studied Zhou Can’s workload. Without a clear and fair look, his conclusions were nothing but fantasies.

Now that he’d finally seen the truth, a mix of shame and regret welled up in Fu Chachun’s heart.

It was plain on his face too.

You can never wake someone who pretends to be asleep. Before seeing these stats, nothing negative about him ever stuck.

Now, at last, he’d woken up.

“Let’s talk about that patient in Bed 1. After you operated, the patient’s left third toe went numb, couldn’t bend anymore. Maybe it’s small to you, but to them, it’s a disaster. If we don’t help, that toe might stay that way for life—maybe even waste away and shrink.”

Director Lou was a master at getting through to doctors and nurses.

Every word hit home.

What seems minor to a doctor can be a disaster for a patient. This kind of empathy comes from years in medicine—and a true sense of compassion.

Fu Chachun hung his head even lower.

He wished he could just disappear.

“When Zhou Can found the problem, he focused on helping the patient—not blaming you. Even after you spoke harshly to him, when Dr. Xu put the case in his hands he didn’t complain, just took over. But do you realize? That patient was originally your responsibility. Zhou Can was the one cleaning up your mess. And what did you do? Not only were you ungrateful, you kept spitting venom his way, even insulting him in public.”

“Where do you get off talking back to your supervisor? Do you think the hospital won’t dare discipline you?”

Director Lou’s gentle tone vanished. By the end, his voice was thunderous.

In that moment, the full weight of a department head’s authority crashed down.

Like a tiger baring its fangs, the pressure in the room was palpable.

Fu Chachun stammered, “It’s my fault!”

Shame and fear tangled inside him, and now a trace of remorse crept across his face.

He’d always resented Zhou Can for taking his spot as deputy, and saw him as the enemy. Thought the department was treating him unfairly.

Only now did he see—the problem was his own lack of ability.

With such a biased mindset, his thinking had long since twisted.

He interpreted everything Zhou Can did as a personal attack.

Even when Zhou Can bailed him out this time, he couldn’t see past his own bitterness.

“The hospital is pushing hard for reform. General Surgery’s already finished, and now it’s rolling out to the entire hospital. If you can’t keep up, you’ll be left behind. Old Fu, I’ll be frank: I’d hate to see you let go before you even reach retirement age. I care about you veteran doctors. I’m not asking you to be top of the field—just to keep your job. Right now, you’re already on the brink, but you don’t even realize it.”

Director Lou’s words were earnest—straight from the heart.

“I was wrong, Director Lou. I truly get it now. Please give me another chance. I promise I won’t make mistakes again—I’ll cherish this opportunity.”

It wasn’t until he heard he might be out of a job that Fu Chachun realized things were worse than he thought.

“I’ve said all this to give you a hand up. As your department head, I can only do so much. Whether you survive in the end—that’s all up to you.”

Director Lou seemed fairly satisfied with Fu Chachun’s attitude and softened his tone.

There’s an old saying: you can lead a water buffalo to the river, but you can’t make it drink.

Fu Chachun was an adult, with his own way of doing things. Director Lou could save him for the moment, but not forever.

If Fu Chachun kept going down the wrong path, he’d be left behind—no doubt about it.

“I swear—I’ll turn myself around and work hard. I won’t let your efforts go to waste.”

Fu Chachun stood, deeply bowing to Director Lou with gratitude.

You could see it—there was no more stubborn arrogance of a seasoned doctor left on him.

“Dr. Zhou, I’ll do everything I can to support you. If I mess up again, you’re welcome to smack me with your shoe.”

Turning to Zhou Can, Dr. Fu’s gaze held no more hostility, only sincerity.

For such a stubborn old-timer to change so much in such a short time—now that’s impressive.

Given how he acted before, Zhou Can had nearly written him off.

But Director Lou really knew how to get through. After a frank talk, Dr. Fu finally let go of his pride and reached out to Zhou Can.

“No need! Really—don’t mention it!”

Zhou Can waved off the gesture, happy to see Dr. Fu finally coming around.

“About that patient in Bed 1—can you tell me exactly what happened during surgery? Did you see the nerve to the third toe?”

Across the table, Director Lou couldn’t help but laugh. “Ha! Young Zhou, patients are always at the top of your mind—no wonder your medical skills are so sharp at your age!”

Seeing his two doctors make peace, Director Lou was happier than anyone.

To him, every member of his department was worth treasuring.

Veterans might not be outstanding, but they were the heart of the department—helping keep team spirit alive.

People are ruled by feelings, after all.

When old hands stick around, it gives newcomers hope for their own future.

After all, the up-and-coming staff look at the way veterans are treated and imagine how they’ll be treated one day.

Just imagine: if every veteran over fifty was forced out the moment their skills slipped, wouldn’t the young staff worry about their own futures?

“I’ll be honest—the nerve to the third toe was severed when I was cutting and separating the toes. Normally, the nerve shouldn’t be on the side, but I was careless, and my anatomy skills are limited. I missed it, and by the time I realized, the damage was done.”

Without resentment, Dr. Fu now trusted Zhou Can completely.

Right there with Zhou Can and Director Lou watching, he admitted where he’d gone wrong in surgery.

“That matches what I suspected. After the nerve was cut, what did you do?”

Zhou Can had already guessed as much.

If he hadn’t been feeling guilty, Dr. Fu wouldn’t have been so prickly when questioned.

“I didn’t do anything—I just left it there. Honestly, my suturing skills are terrible. Not just nerves—even connecting blood vessels is a struggle for me.”

Dr. Fu came clean, no embellishments.

Truth is, as a senior attending, his surgical skills might not even match some of the better residents these days.

With the ER’s surgery team growing stronger, maybe Dr. Fu would be better off handling front-line consultations instead of operating.

It’d be good for him—and for the whole department.

“I’ll talk to the patient and arrange a second surgery as soon as possible. Once the date’s set, I’ll let you know—we’ll do it together, and I’ll handle the nerve repair.”

In Zhou Can’s opinion, the sooner they operate, the better.

Especially with a freshly severed nerve—reconnecting it now gives the best chance for full recovery.

And it’d be a great chance for him to put his nerve repair skills to the test.