After being separated from my family, I became a darling of the military region thanks to my medical

The veteran bent down, his movements slow and deliberate, his fingers trembling as he untied his shoelaces. As the mud-covered rubber shoes were removed, an indescribable odor filled the air. Hu Dazhi, standing nearby, instinctively shrank back, but Ye Zhen remained calm, squatting down and reaching out to support the calloused and frostbitten foot.

That foot was as rough as old tree bark, the sole hard and prickly. Ye Zhen's fingers were long and slender, yet firmly gripped the old soldier's instep. Her thumb moved down inch by inch along the second metatarsal bone, the movement not fast, but with a determined rhythm.

Continue until the fingertip presses on the lower middle part of the metatarsal shaft.

"here?"

Before Ye Zhen could exert any force, the veteran recoiled, a suppressed cry of pain escaping his throat: "Hiss—yes! Right here! It hurts like hell!"

Ye Zhen released her grip, stood up, walked to her desk, and picked up the stack of films that the provincial experts had declared "dead." The light from the window shone on the black and white negatives, and the image of the skeleton was clearly discernible; at first glance, it did indeed appear intact.

"You can't see it in the frontal or lateral views." Ye Zhen picked up the ballpoint pen on the table and quickly drew two lines on a blank prescription sheet, then added a diagonal line in the middle. "Your fracture line is diagonal. In the frontal view, it's blocked by the bone, and in the lateral view, it overlaps. It's like someone hiding in a corner; you can't find them whether you look at them from the front or the side."

She marked a clear angle on the paper, the pen tip making a scratching sound as it traced the paper.

"This kind of injury was very common in the old days of forced marches. We also called it a 'marching fracture,' but the medical term is stress fracture. Your leg isn't psychological; it's a real bone fracture." Ye Zhen handed the written form to Hu Dazhi. "Take him to the radiology department, turn the machine 45 degrees, and take an oblique X-ray."

After speaking, she turned to look at the veteran, her gaze lingering for a moment on the faded collar of his uniform. Her tone softened, a rare occurrence for her: "Go back and get some hot water, soak yourself for half an hour every day. No need for medicine, just rest for two months. You're in good shape; you've overcome so many hardships before, this little injury will heal with rest."

The old soldier stood there, stunned, his face, etched with the wrinkles of time, twitching uncontrollably. At that moment, the pent-up resentment in his heart burst forth like a flood. He wiped his eyes hard with the back of his rough hand, his voice choked with emotion: "Ah! Ah! I knew it! They insisted I was faking it… Doctor, thank you, thank you so much!"

Hu Dazhi stared intently at the anatomical diagram, as if he were looking at some kind of ultimate secret manual.

"45 degrees angled...it's actually 45 degrees angled..."

The archives room fell silent for a moment, with only heavy breathing audible.

The way these doctors looked at Ye Zhen was no longer as if she were an "expert from Beicheng," but as if she were a deity who could communicate with the gods.

The ability to uncover truths missed by instruments with just the naked eye and a simple touch, and even to casually correct the weighty knowledge accumulated over decades, is enough to make any self-proclaimed expert bow down.

Ye Zhen was stared at by these fervent gazes and couldn't help but think to herself: Are all these doctors so free?

Just then, the door was slammed open with a "bang".

Ye Zhen recognized the person who came in; it was Nurse Liu, one of the two nurses who helped her clean the archives room.

Xiao Liu ran so fast his eyes were glazed over, still breathless: "Dr. Ye... Dr. Ye! Quick! Emergency... There's a critically ill patient, the hospital director sent me to find you!"

Ye Zhen paused, pen in hand, and without saying a word, got up and left.

"What's going on?"

"A construction worker suddenly collapsed while working," Xiao Liu said, jogging behind. "He was still groaning when he was brought in, but he suddenly stopped moving, one pupil was larger than the other, and he vomited projectileally, covering the nurses in the vomit!"

Ye Zhen suddenly quickened her pace, her previously languid expression instantly vanishing, replaced by a scalpel-like coldness.

……

The emergency room lobby was in complete chaos, like a hornet's nest that had been disturbed.

The sounds of wailing, the screeching of the wheelchair, and the nurses' shouts mingled together. The air was thick with the pungent smell of stomach acid mixed with the stench of blood.

Outside the emergency room, several workers wearing yellow hard hats were stamping their feet in anxiety. A woman covered in dust squatted on the ground, crying hysterically, "Husband! You can't die! How will my daughter and I live if you die!"

Zhao Haifeng stood in front of the emergency bed, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

The injured man on the bed was a strong man in his thirties. His face was flushed, his breathing was deep and slow, and his blood pressure on the electrocardiogram monitor had soared to 180.

"Cushing's reaction." Ye Zhen's voice cut in before she even reached the bedside. "High blood pressure, slow pulse, deep breathing. Intracranial pressure is off the charts."

Dr. Sun Jianguo, the head of neurosurgery, was sweating profusely as he shone a flashlight into the patient's eyes, his hand trembling so much that the beam of light was shaking.

Hearing Ye Zhen's voice, he turned around abruptly: "Director Zhao, this is impossible! Without a CT scan, we can't make a diagnosis! A brain isn't a watermelon; you can't just cut it open and search for the problem!"

"Then transfer me to another hospital!" Zhao Haifeng gritted his teeth. "Where's the ambulance?"

"Wait outside! Go to the First Municipal Hospital and find Professor Liang!" Sun Jianguo cried out as if grasping at a straw. "Professor Liang is a leading authority in the province; they have CT scans!"

"no."

Two words, cold and hard, landed on the ground.

Ye Zhen pushed Sun Jianguo aside and reached out to pry open the injured man's eyelids.

"Transferring to another hospital now could very well result in them dying on the way," Ye Zhen said, then turned to Xiao Liu and said, "Go to the ophthalmology department and get an ophthalmoscope."

"What do you know!" Sun Jianguo snapped, spitting as he spoke. "You're an orthopedic surgeon, this is the brain! It's like comparing apples and oranges; without imaging support, who would dare to perform craniotomy? That's murder! You'd go to jail if something went wrong!"

Ye Zhen completely ignored his roar and kept moving her hands.

He can stay upright with his right leg raised; but if he raises his left leg, he falls over immediately. He has left-sided hemiplegia.

Then stroke the sole of the foot, and the big toe of the left foot suddenly curls upward. Babinski's sign is positive.

Just then, Xiao Liu arrived with his fundus mirror.

Xiao Liu, panting, handed over the fundus endoscope. Ye Zhen took it, bent down, adjusted the focus, and a thin beam of light shone directly into the depths of the patient's dilated pupil.

Through the peephole, the once clear fundus was now blurred, and the surrounding veins were bulging, like red earthworms about to burst, ferocious and terrifying.

"The optic disc is severely edematous, with congested and tortuous veins."

Ye Zhen straightened up, put down her glasses, and glanced at Zhao Haifeng. Her tone was so firm that it sent chills down one's spine.

"The most likely cause of stroke is bleeding, but it could also be a large-area cerebral infarction with brain herniation already formed. If there is any further delay, the brainstem will be compressed, and even a miracle cannot save it."

The entire emergency room suddenly fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the beeping alarm of the monitor.

Sun Jianguo's eyes widened: "You...you can just look in a mirror and you'll know? What if it's not true?"

"This is too far-fetched."

These days, even experts in Beijing wouldn't dare to draw such a definitive conclusion based solely on visual observation.

"Whether it's mysterious or not, we'll know once it's opened." Ye Zhen took the red and blue pencils from the nurse next to her and drew a palm-sized circle two inches above the injured person's right temple.

"Here." She pointed to the red circle. "If we cut here and remove the hematoma, the person can live. If it's not bleeding but a large-scale cerebral infarction, then a craniotomy to relieve pressure can also save their life."

"Nonsense! Absolutely nonsense!" Sun Jianguo trembled with rage, turning to Zhao Haifeng and yelling, "Director Zhao! This is a matter of life and death! If a mistake is made, it's medical malpractice! Our hospital can't afford to pay for it, and you can't bear that responsibility!"

Zhao Haifeng looked at the electrocardiogram monitor.

My heart rate has dropped to 50.

That's the sound of a pendulum swinging down the clock of life.

Transferring to another hospital? Even if the driver floored the gas pedal, it would still take an hour and a half to get to the city. This man probably wouldn't make it that far.

But can we open it right here?

What if Ye Zhen's judgment is wrong?

Zhao Haifeng looked at Ye Zhen.

The girl stood there, as thin as a sheet of paper, but her eyes were as calm as a deep pool, without a trace of panic or the gambler's frenzy.

Only absolute self-confidence.

That's the aura of a top surgeon—I know what I'm doing.

Zhao Haifeng recalled the femur that had been drilled open yesterday, and the gushing black blood.

He took a deep breath, as if to expel all the stale air from his lungs.

"Director Sun." Zhao Haifeng's voice was a little hoarse, but it carried a ruthless determination.

"Director Zhao! Don't listen to her—"

"Shut up!"

Zhao Haifeng suddenly took off his white hat and slammed it heavily on the table.

"Listen to Dr. Ye! Explain the patient's condition to the family, prepare the surgical site! Move her to the operating room!" Zhao Haifeng pointed at the door, his eyes bloodshot. "If anything goes wrong, I'll take full responsibility!"

Sun Jianguo was completely dumbfounded.

crazy.

The dean has gone mad too.

"I won't do it! I won't perform this surgery!" Sun Jianguo took a step back, his face ashen. "This is against regulations!"

"what ever."

Ye Zhen didn't even glance at him, and turned to give the order to the head nurse.

"Shave head, prepare skin. Notify anesthesiology department, intubate, administer 250ml mannitol intravenously quickly."

The head nurse was startled by Ye Zhen's imposing presence and instinctively straightened her back: "Yes!"

……

The communication with the family went smoothly, and they readily signed the surgical consent form.

The red light in the operating room came on again.

Sun Jianguo slumped into a chair at the nurses' station, his hands trembling as he dialed the on-call number for the neurosurgery department of the First Municipal Hospital.

"Professor Liang...it's me, Xiao Sun...Something's happened, something terrible has happened! We have a young doctor from the Beicheng Military Region Hospital who's been sent to the countryside, and he wants to perform brain surgery on a patient without a CT scan! Dean Zhao has gone mad...Please come quickly!"

An angry roar came from the other end of the phone.

"This is utterly reckless! That's a brain! Not a pig's stomach! Tell her to stop! This is utter nonsense! I'm taking men over there right now!"

……

On the dirt road leading to Qingyun County, a jeep kicked up clouds of yellow dust as its engine roared.

In the back seat of the car, an elderly man with gray hair and a livid face was tightly gripping his cane. He was Liang Guodong, a leading figure in the neurosurgery department of the First Municipal Hospital.

She is also known for her fiery temper and intolerant of any wrongdoing.

"Faster! Faster!" Liang Guodong urged the driver, pounding his cane against the floor of the car. "I want to see which bastard dares to treat a patient's head like a joke!"