Before signing the divorce papers, Cui Jia's husband asked, "Have you really thought this through?"
Cui Jia nodded and said, "I've thought it through. Let's not continue like this. I don't want any compensation, and I'll request leniency for you in court, telling them I forgive you. But we really shouldn't hold each other back anymore. You need a good woman who can build a life with you, and I want to go out and make something of myself—I'm suffocating here. Maybe I'm all talk, but I'm also a person born of parents, capable and decent. I have to try, try to make some noise in this world."
Cui Jia's husband left the hospital room in tears. Che Mingming had initially wanted to see what kind of fierce, evil man he was, but after watching for a while, she realized these two were like cars on different roads, completely out of sync. Cui Jia was tall and beautiful, with long legs crouched on a stool as she polished shoes for others. Other men couldn't even bring themselves to look down at her. Her bangs framed her forehead—before the surgery, she had been such a striking woman.
Che Mingming asked Cui Jia, "Did you ever love him?"
Cui Jia didn't hide anything: "Love? When I was young, I just thought he was exciting—a guy mixed up in the underworld, not like those dull office workers trudging to and from work. If you're going to live that life, you should be awe-inspiring, and I'd have been proud to be the boss's woman. But after all these years, he's turned into a washed-up loser, all talk and no action, pretending to be a tough guy. I regret it so much."
Half a month later, Cui Jia was discharged from the hospital. Her family couldn't afford a titanium alloy artificial skull. Liu Zhengliang said, "If you can't get an artificial skull, at least buy an external skeletal headgear."
Cui Jia said she had no money.
Liu Zhengliang said, "Then at least get a helmet to wear over a head covering."
Cui Jia asked, "Will a motorcycle helmet work?"
Liu Zhengliang replied, "Can we not just make do like this? But fine, a motorcycle helmet will do. Still, if you bump into a cabinet or wall at home, others might just hold their head in pain for a bit, but for you, it could be fatal."
Cui Jia left wearing the motorcycle helmet. Watching her family's retreating figures, Che Mingming said to Chen Junnan, "Why is it that I just can't feel sorry for her?"
Chen Junnan was silent for a moment, then came out with: "The pitiable have their hateful aspects."After seeing them off, Liu Zhengliang still followed his weekly routine of checking on Zhang Jiao. Zhang Jiao could now sit up to eat. Zhang Dexu wasn't there—her mother, Dou Liping, was attending to her, feeding her crushed dragon beard noodles with boiled egg using a spoon. The young girl took the initiative to greet Liu Zhengliang. Her speech rate and voice made it clear that returning to her original state would be very difficult; it was as if her brain couldn't smoothly control her tongue and vocal cords, like an overloaded memory stick or a glitchy video, each word spoken haltingly. The sunny, lively little girl was gone forever; from this point onward, the rest of her life would begin anew, starting right here and now. Though her words were stuttered and fragmented, Liu Zhengliang found himself overwhelmed, evading direct responses and changing the subject. This was the first time he had independently treated a critically ill patient, but although the patient had woken up and could eat, she was far from lively and energetic—hardly the kind of recovery that would inspire the family to enthusiastically present a banner praising his skill in restoring health. Liu Zhengliang longed to be like his mentors, witnessing patients return healthy and grateful—a vanity, but also a sense of honor. As a doctor, he cherished that feeling of accomplishment. As for how much she would recover in the future, only heaven knew.
Chapter 12
Fushun was quite suitable for elderly living—climbing mountains to pick hazelnuts, fishing by the water. For young people, leisure activities were relatively simpler; there used to be places where they could drink and sing late into the night. In recent years, many young people had left, leaving behind the elderly and children at home. After 8 p.m., the pedestrian streets became much quieter.
Few highly educated individuals remained among those who stayed.
For instance, when Liu Zhengliang was seeing patients, he often encountered unreasonable people: "Don't give me all that scientific knowledge. I haven't had much schooling, and I don't understand those complicated theories—unlike you educated folks who wield scalpels and devour people without spitting out the bones. 'Loyalty often comes from the humble, while betrayal is frequent among the learned.' Isn't that what they say in storytelling? Even Shan Tianfang said so. So cut the useless talk—what's the point? Just tell me straight: how much will it cost to cure my dad's illness? Give me a clear answer, make it plain and simple."
Liu Zhengliang remained polite: "Then please wait a moment. I'll look up some literature online to check the cure rate statistics for your father's condition."
The man was naturally very dissatisfied: "What are you showing me? Cure rates?"
Liu Zhengliang replied, "Yes, it means out of a hundred patients, how many can be cured—there are statistics."
The man grew furious and shouted, "You think this is a chicken farm hatching eggs? Hatch rates, huh? Do you need a lesson?"
Liu Zhengliang responded, "For your father's condition, I might be the only one in all of Fushun who can give it a try. Otherwise, you can take him to Shenyang, or wait for me to check the information and tell you. If you try to teach me a lesson, look behind you—there are six or seven patients in the emergency room waiting to be saved. If you hit me, all the doctors in our department will come to my aid. If patients can't be saved then, do you think all these families will let you off?"
After he said this, over twenty patients' family members in the emergency room turned their gazes toward them. A few young men even stepped forward, ready to intervene and uphold justice. An upright person doesn't need a crowd—sitting there alone, they command the presence of an army.Liu Zhengliang showed no temper, not even looking up as he wrote medical records while saying this—all his intensity was expended in the operating room. He was the kind of person who lacked warmth himself yet always expected others to kindle it in him. Dean Long once remarked to him casually in the cafeteria, "I came from an administrative background. Right after graduating with my bachelor's in medicine, I joined the Medical Administration Office. You know how it is, young man—when you rub shoulders with leadership often enough, you become a familiar face, and when promotions roll around, proximity gives you the edge. I'm well aware of my own limitations. Have you ever seen me offer treatment opinions when your attending physicians consult me? My role is to shoulder the blame for you all. If anyone causes trouble or bullies our doctors, I'll step up, call in favors—who in Fushun don't I know? But all I'm good at is drafting documents. I can write things like 'Incentive Systems for Clinical Doctors' or 'Financial Process Optimization for Emergency Cases Exceeding Insurance Quotas.' Over my thirty-plus years at the hospital, my medical skills haven't improved much, but I've become quite the dealmaker. In the long run, that's not good for the hospital. Still, I love being dean—it comes with prestige. Don't expect me to resign and make way for someone else; I'd shut down anyone who suggests it. Of course, eventually, this hospital should be led by someone who understands the medical trade. If leadership lacks expertise or their knowledge lags behind practical needs, they can't grasp doctors' struggles. Let me pat myself on the back for one thing: I never pretend to know what I don't. So, work with peace of mind—I'll fast-track your formal staffing arrangements without you having to nag. I'm anxious about it myself."
After the dean finished eating and left, Chen Junnan leaned over and whispered to Liu Zhengliang, "See that? Old Dragon Head is quite pleased with you."
Director Zhao from the emergency department, who was eating with them, added, "What's precious in a person is self-awareness. Our Dean Long knows he can't compete academically with deans from major hospitals, so he never meddles in clinical matters. Both of you, just work steadily here. I reckon in about a year, our hospital will be absorbed by Shengjing Hospital. Then, Shenyang will surely send highly educated doctors over. Those young punks will look down on us—seeing we're all graduates of places like Shenyang Pharmaceutical University or Jinzhou Medical College, and that we've been practicing in this small Fushun hospital for years—they'll act like their noses are in the clouds. That's when we'll count on you youngsters to stand up for us. We Fushun folks have our own Ph.D.s and skilled doctors too. Let them come and kneel, behaving respectfully."
Liu Zhengliang replied modestly, "In our field, how can we judge by degrees? My mentor was in the last undergraduate class from Peking University Medical School. In this profession, even if you study up to a Ph.D., it's just the beginning—you're still watching surgeries and assisting. It's only now, with expanded education scales, that big cities and hospitals are raising standards. Outsiders just don't understand."Che Mingming replied, "I wouldn't put it that way. After all, you've studied much longer—learning directly from mentors while we undergraduates mostly acquire knowledge through clinical practice. We focus more on techniques, while you delve deeper into principles. Take last month's case with the elderly woman with heart failure—if you hadn't suggested emergency potassium supplementation, I wouldn't have thought of it. We learned it in textbooks, but when symptoms become complex and intertwined with other conditions, even doctors with six or seven years of clinical experience can miss it. That's when interdisciplinary knowledge and broader exposure become crucial."
Chen Junnan said, "It's like comparing National Defense University graduates to those from sergeant schools in marksmanship—the former might not necessarily win. But when it comes to battlefield coordination and multi-branch command, National Defense University graduates have the edge because they've studied it systematically. Marksmanship can be honed over time, but cultivating command ability undoubtedly requires longer training."
As they were eating, Che Mingming's phone rang—another patient had arrived.
A man in his forties was carried off the ambulance, groaning incoherently with a hoarse voice, complaining about the heat.
Chen Junnan glanced at the weather, thinking to himself that the maximum temperature in Fushun in March was only 10°C—hardly hot.
Che Mingming asked, "What's the problem?"
The emergency nurse replied, "He fainted at home just now and woke up in the ambulance."
Liu Zhengliang asked the accompanying family member, "Has this ever happened before?"
The patient's wife shook her head, indicating no.
They decided to take X-rays first.
After reviewing the scans, Liu Zhengliang examined the patient with a stethoscope while observing his skin and facial features. Suddenly, his attention fixed on the patient's hands—each finger was as thick as a banana, with swollen fingertips. Liu Zhengliang listened carefully through the stethoscope, focusing on heart and lung sounds. He simultaneously ordered blood tests, screening for complete blood count and comprehensive organ function.
Setting down the stethoscope, Liu Zhengliang turned to the family member and said, "His mental state appears normal currently, but I strongly recommend immediate internal medicine consultation. There are some cardiopulmonary issues. I suspect—"
A sharp, dismissive headshake from the family member cut him off. Liu Zhengliang instructed Chen Junnan to continue the examination, then stepped out of the emergency room, signaling for the family member to follow him.
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