Chapter 6: Is a 211 University Really That Arrogant? Can We Not Reason Here?

Half a month had passed, and Zhang Fan’s exploits had become known throughout the entire hospital. There were those who looked down on him, those who made snide remarks, and those who praised him; yet all of this seemed to have little effect on Zhang Fan, who continued to live by his own rules.

The director had even asked Zhang Fan directly if he disliked the Second Surgery Department, suggesting that if things didn’t work out, they could swap him with Guo Qiliang. Had Zhang Fan not already chosen Orthopedics, the director might have agreed.

Finally, the Second Surgery Department was up and running. A young Uyghur man, after drinking a little, crashed his motorcycle into a tree. He was incredibly lucky; aside from a fracture in his right humerus, he was otherwise unharmed.

After the ambulance brought him to the hospital, Nur, slightly drunk, insisted on immediate surgery. He had reached a point where he couldn’t perform operations without drinking; years of habitual alcoholism had left his hands trembling terribly when sober.

Usually, Chen Qifa handled orthopedic surgeries with Nur assisting, while the two neurosurgeons took turns on call. But in these past few days, Zhang Fan’s energetic presence had really irritated Chen Qifa. “You’re new here—can’t you be a bit more subdued? Jumping around and showing off like that.” Chen’s decades-long failure to obtain his medical license had left him psychologically unbalanced.

Today, Chen Qifa intended to put Zhang Fan in his place. Upon entering the operating room, he said to Nur, “Director, I accidentally twisted my right hand yesterday. I can’t exert any strength with it today, so I’ll have to throw in the towel.”

Old foxes and cunning elders—Nur immediately knew this was aimed at Zhang Fan.

Twisted hand, my foot. That morning, he even saw Chen using his right hand to eat with chopsticks. Though the comment wasn’t directed at him, Nur was the only one with a medical license present, making him responsible for all surgical matters.

He paused briefly before saying, “Dr. Chen is an experienced doctor, highly skilled. Even with a twisted hand, you can still complete this surgery, right? Afterward, this patient will be assigned to your ward.” Hospital beds were allocated to doctors, and patients meant profit.

Both men completely overlooked Zhang Fan. It was not that Nur looked down on Zhang Fan—he knew well the level of newly graduated doctors. High suture skills only meant you were dexterous, which proved nothing.

“Director, since Dr. Chen’s hand is injured, let me perform the surgery. During my internship, my mentor already let me operate independently. You and Dr. Chen can guide me,” Zhang Fan said resolutely. Having just finished his trauma orthopedics rotation, he wasn’t about to give up when a surgery presented itself.

Chen Qifa, who was about to begin, was suddenly irritated and sneered sarcastically, “Fine, let Dr. Zhang take over. After all, he’s a university graduate.”

Nur’s anger flared as well. “Are you kidding me? You can’t even pass your qualification exams, and you’re whining?” This was aimed at Chen Qifa. As for Zhang Fan, though unspoken, Nur’s expression had darkened considerably.

Just as Nur was about to speak, Zhang Fan said firmly, “Director, I guarantee there will be no problems. If anything goes wrong today, I’ll immediately take off my white coat and resign.”

“Oh, you’re so confident. I want to see what you say when you can’t finish,” Chen Qifa glanced at Zhang Fan silently.

“Human life is at stake; this is no joke,” Nur said sternly to Zhang Fan.

“You do care about lives, huh? Drinking before surgery, damn it,” Zhang Fan internally scorned Nur. “Director, rest assured. It’s just a humerus fracture. If I really can’t do it, I’ll leave immediately. Surely Dr. Chen and you can handle it.”

“What does it have to do with me?” Chen Qifa narrowed his eyes, about to speak, but Nur interrupted, “Fine, you take over. If you can’t finish it today, you don’t have to leave. Just follow Dr. Chen and learn well.” Nur’s words implied Zhang Fan should become Chen’s apprentice. Nur harbored considerable resentment toward Chen; “A guy who can’t even pass his license exam, and yet he’s acting high and mighty. If this idiot actually pulls off the surgery today, I’ll see how you save face.”

“All right, Dr. Zhang as chief surgeon, I’ll assist, and Dr. Chen will be second assistant. Let’s scrub in.”

The anesthesia department had only two people—a mentor and her apprentice, Ma Lihua. She was in her thirties, had a license, and was the anesthesia director. Her mentor was nearly fifty but lacked certification, helplessly watching her apprentice take the lead.

Today, Ma Lihua was administering anesthesia. Her fair skin, tall figure, large eyes, and high nose bridge made her beautiful—if not for one glaring flaw: her prominent buck teeth, which marred her appearance. Because of this, Ma was usually taciturn and rarely smiled, giving off a stern demeanor.

“Anesthesia is ready; start,” she nodded to the surgeons without further comment.

Zhang Fan disinfected and draped the surgical site swiftly and precisely. Nur nodded approvingly as a bystander, while Chen Qifa, always ready to find fault, was speechless. The surgery began. This was a pioneering fracture repair. Zhang Fan had practiced this procedure countless times in the system and had already developed considerable skill.

He made an incision along the wound edge, separated the skin, freed the muscle layers, controlled bleeding, and tied off vessels in one fluid motion.

Nur, whose hands trembled even after drinking to suppress it, struggled to keep up as Zhang Fan’s movements quickened. Not wanting this fresh graduate to look down on him, Nur grew anxious, causing his trembling to worsen.

Zhang Fan, the chief surgeon, remained composed. Nur, drenched in sweat, said, “Dr. Zhang, steady, steady. See, there’s still some bleeding. Slow down. Dr. Chen, quickly use the suction to clear the hematoma and prepare the surgical field for the chief.”

Chen Qifa was both astonished and enraged, grinding his teeth. “What the hell is this? A fresh graduate performing surgery so skillfully, and this foreigner dares to criticize me, shaking like a lucky cat and still having the nerve to call me out.”

After all, he was a veteran doctor of decades and had an eye for skill. Observing Zhang Fan’s exquisite technique, his resentment shifted toward Nur. He was the type who grew weaker when facing strength and stronger when facing weakness.

Zhang Fan set the bones, affixed the plate, and tightened the screws without pause. If not for his two hesitant assistants, he could have worked even faster. Ma Lihua was amazed: “Dr. Zhang is impressive. Which school did you graduate from? Your surgery is amazing.” Since she had no conflict of interest with the surgeons, she spoke frankly. A faster surgery meant she could finish anesthesia sooner and go home earlier.

“Heh, still not good enough, need more practice. I graduated from Suda University. If not for the guidance from the director and Dr. Chen, I wouldn’t be able to do it either. Ma, please mentor me more in the future,” Zhang Fan said diplomatically. He didn’t want to risk losing assistant support over words—besides, he didn’t yet have his license.

“This university kid really knows how to talk. Don’t call me teacher anymore—call me sister. 211 students are the best,” Ma said with a slight smile.

The room fell a bit silent. Most present had graduated from vocational schools and didn’t want to make things awkward.

“Just so-so, just so-so!” Zhang Fan blushed at Ma’s praise. Without the system practice, he would still be a nobody.

Half an hour later, the surgery neared completion and they began suturing the skin.

“Director, Dr. Chen, you can rest now. Leave the rest to me,” Zhang Fan said.

“I’ll do the suturing. You’ve worked long enough,” Chen Qifa surrendered.

“But Dr. Chen’s hand is injured,” Nur’s accented words struck Chen hard. Nur felt as if he had drunk a potent elixir, exhilarated. “Let you show off, let you act high and mighty.”

“I should be fine with the suturing. Let me try, let me try,” Chen said weakly, barely able to lift his head. Misfortune often breeds contempt.

Zhang Fan wasn’t interested in provoking Chen Qifa. His ambitions had grown vast as the starry sea.

“I’m not tired at all. You’re good assistants, so I can follow your lead without any problems. I enjoy operating with you. Dr. Chen, your hand is injured, so rest. There will be other opportunities,” Zhang Fan said.

Within half an hour after the surgery, Nur spread the news throughout the hospital. Li Hui and Guo Qiliang were stunned, especially Guo Qiliang. Without comparison, there’s no pain; he couldn’t even suture adequately yet.

“If only I had chosen internal medicine earlier, is it too late to regret now?” he muttered. It was like shooting a passerby dead with one shot.

Director Batu was both pleased and surprised. “You bet on the right horse. 211 graduates really are outstanding.”