The Surgeon’s Studio

“Professor Gu, shouldn’t you be still in a hospital ward?” Su Yun suddenly asked just as they exited the research building.

His words made Professor Gu stagger on his feet.

“Is your heart better now? You’re not supposed to sneak out like that.” Su Yun was merciless in his snark, not sparing even a respected senior like Professor Gu.

The worst part was that his words were not baseless. Professor Gu could not argue the matter.

“I know that,” Professor Gu said a few moments later, waving his hands, “Cardiologists are no better than us cardiothoracic surgeons in this, you know.”

Su Yun just smiled wordlessly.

This was an ongoing internal dispute. The surgeons found that cardiologists dawdled too much, and the latter considered the former’s methods too crass.

They always fought for surgeries with related or overlapping procedures, with the spoils going to whoever called their shots the earliest.

Professors who could perform the surgery but were denied the opportunity were naturally disappointed.

For instance, spinal surgery belonged to the department of neurosurgery in European hospitals, but since spine treatment was first established by orthopedic departments in this country, most of its pioneers were orthopedic surgeons. Neurosurgeons… treated only the head region and nothing else.

Other hospitals in Imperial Capital such as Tiantan and Sanbo’s neurosurgeons were not able to handle spinal neurosurgeries. Even if they did, their skills were nowhere near that of orthopedics from Jishuitan or Xiehe Hospital.

The feud between cardiologists and cardiothoracic surgeons went back ages.

With current advancements in technology, there were more cardiologists capable of performing coronary bypass surgery. Furthermore, patients usually preferred minimally invasive surgery over thoracotomy.

That was why, many years ago, most hospitals’ cardiology divisions were reabsorbed by their cardiothoracic surgery departments due to their lower demand for surgery.

Zheng Ren and Su Yun understood this all too well and thus did not take Professor Gu’s jibes to heart.

The gradual transition from internal medicine to surgery, followed by the advent of minimally invasive procedures, was the inevitable outcome of advancements in medical treatment. It would never have been altered by a single professor’s objections.

“Let’s head back. I’ll change the wound dressing for you. Were it not for the both of you, Fang Lin would’ve…” Professor Gu choked when he mentioned the name.

“You went to see Fang Lin, right? How is he doing?” Zheng Ren asked.

“He’s okay, but he had trauma-induced coagulopathy due to excessive bleeding. They gave him several units of platelets and fibrinogen today,” Professor Gu said, “There was 400 mL of fluid in the chest tube drainage system. If bleeding stops after two days, they can remove the tube. As long as there’s less than 100 mL of blood, he will be stable.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear that,” Zheng Ren said, relieved.

“Thank goodness your rescue was in time,” Professor Gu continued, still perturbed by the incident. “When I saw what had happened yesterday, I thought it was too late and my nerves triggered my heart issues.”

Zheng Ren chuckled.

After reaching the cardiothoracic department, Professor Gu brought Zheng Ren to the pharmacy.

Placing a wound care dressing set on a sterile plate, he removed the old, sweat-drenched bandage from Zheng Ren’s shoulder.

“You’ll need to take some antibiotics for a few days.” Professor Gu observed that the skin at the edge of the wound was healing neatly. There was slight redness but no swelling, which ruled out infection. However, to be safe, he prescribed Zheng Ren the antibiotics.

“Uhm, I took them yesterday,” Zheng Ren replied.

“Three days,” Professor Gu ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

After changing the wound dressing on Zheng Ren’s shoulder, Professor Gu called for Zhao Yunlong and instructed him sternly that Zheng Ren was not allowed to leave the ward, in case the man snuck out to perform more surgeries and hurt himself.

Zheng Ren did not know whether to laugh or cry.

How bad could the common cold be? With his body being perfectly healthy, the possibility of contracting pneumonia was close to nil.

Nevertheless, he did not have the heart to refuse Professor Gu’s kind gesture.

Professor Gu then prepared a private ward for Zheng Ren to rest.

In the end… he was to be confined to a single room in Imperial Capital Hospital. It was dumbfounding.

When Zheng Ren tried to turn down the offer, Professor Gu glared at him and shoved him into the private ward a little forcefully.

“You should be grateful. Only those with deputy-level positions are allowed to stay in a private ward.” Su Yun sat on a sofa leisurely while looking at Zheng Ren.

“But I’m perfectly fine,” Zheng Ren said in a voice so weak that it was unconvincing.

Su Yun took out his phone and began tapping away at it, looking bored. “Stop showing off and lie down, young man.”

Zheng Ren finally gave in and laid down onto the bed. A wave of fatigue took over him.

The private ward of a large-scale Class Three Grade A Hospital in Imperial Capital was extraordinary. It was not necessarily available even if one could afford it.

When Zheng Ren had still been a resident in the general surgery department, they received a patient who was a deputy mayor. Of course, back then, Zheng Ren could only stand aside to watch Chief Liu entertain and accompany the patient throughout his stay.

The patient had been diagnosed with stomach cancer and did not stay for surgery in Sea City General Hospital, leaving for one of the hospitals in the Imperial Capital.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been fortunate enough if he had gotten one of the professors in Imperial Capital to operate on him. However, he was used to all the pampering he had received in Sea City and demanded a private ward.

Those in charge of admission differed between hospitals; they varied from the chief resident to the matron, or even individual professors. However, they had the same policies for the private ward.

Only people in positions above the deputy level, such as department chiefs or senior professors, had the privilege of a private ward.

Usually, people gave in and accepted their arrangements. However, no one foresaw the patient getting offended and going all the way back to Sea City, contacting a professor from Sorcery Capital to perform the surgery.

It took him almost half a month to travel back and forth.

Unfortunately, his malignant tumor was uncontrollably aggressive. By the time he went under surgery, his cancer had metastasized to three lymph nodes.

It truly was an unfortunate case, which was why Zheng Ren felt that Bu Ruotian had made the right choice.

Zheng Ren fell into a deep slumber as soon as his head hit the pillow. It could have been the exhaustion from performing multiple surgeries while unwell, or the side effects of the energy elixir he had consumed. The sky had turned dark when he opened his eyes again.

Upon waking up, he saw Su Yun still on both sofa and phone in the exact same spot, unchanged but for a slight adjustment in seating position.

Only after noticing the tiny hole in his hand from the insertion of an intravenous catheter did he realize that he had slept through an entire intravenous infusion by a nurse.

Zheng Ren also felt much better after sweating.

He sat up and asked, “What do you feel like eating for dinner?”

“I thought you planned to sleep through the night,” Su Yun answered without raising his head, “Didn’t you say eating disinterests you?”

‘…Such harsh words,’ Zheng Ren thought.

He was not particularly interested in food, but he had performed seven interventional surgeries in a lead apron while sick. His body’s energy reserves were completely depleted.