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

In Beijing in February, the wind still carries a sharp, piercing chill.

Hans sat in the back seat of the Hongqi sedan, subconsciously straightening his suit and tie. He had just returned from Shanghai with great acclaim. There, he had not only fixed the extracorporeal circulation machine, but had also been treated like royalty by those experts in white coats. At this moment, he couldn't suppress the smugness in his eyes.

"God, stop!"

As soon as the car turned into the main gate of the hospital, Hans cried out in alarm as if he had been burned.

He pressed his face against the car window, his blue eyes wide and bulging like saucers. The once empty square had been completely transformed, now filled with countless tents, cots, and endless rows of old-fashioned bicycles. Students in thick cotton-padded coats ran all over the place, waving receipts in their hands.

"My God..." Hans gripped the leather armrest, looking at the translator in the passenger seat with a horrified expression. "Is there war in Beijing? Or is there a refugee crisis? Is this a refugee camp?"

The car door was pulled open, and a wave of cold yet fiery air rushed in.

Dean Zhang Guohua stood beside the car, wearing an old military overcoat and holding a chipped teacup in his hands, smiling like an old fox who had spotted a fat chicken.

"Mr. Hans, welcome back to Beijing." Zhang Guohua extended a warm, large hand.

"Zhang! What on earth is going on?" Hans pointed to several female students distributing soy milk to children not far away. "Has your healthcare system collapsed?"

"Collapse?" Zhang Guohua took a sip of hot tea, exhaling a puff of white steam. "No, this is rebirth. This is called 'Chinese efficiency,' Mr. Hans. These thousands of students all came to help Dr. Ye without pay, bringing their own food. In just three days, we screened four thousand children."

Hans opened his mouth wide, his chin almost hitting his feet.

At Siemens, getting an engineer to work overtime requires three rounds of negotiations with the union, and they have to be paid triple wages. Free of charge? Bring your own food? For an ideal?

Looking at those young people whose faces were red from the cold but whose eyes were shining, he suddenly felt that the sophisticated technology he had just shown off in Shanghai didn't seem so impressive after all.

In this ancient and mysterious land, there exists a power more terrifying than sophisticated machinery: the human heart.

……

Evening, Moscow restaurant.

This Russian-style building, affectionately known as "Lao Mo" by Beijingers, features a huge dome adorned with dazzling crystal chandeliers, spotless white tablecloths, and silver cutlery gleaming coldly.

This was the most respectable and expensive social venue in Beijing in the 1980s, and it was also the place Gu Zheng chose to welcome guests.

In addition to Hans, Klaus, a German orthopedic expert who teaches at the main hospital, also accompanied them.

"Try this, braised beef in a pot. It's not authentic, but it has its own unique flavor." Gu Zheng was dressed casually, with his sleeves casually rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms.

While exchanging pleasantries, he was busy with his hands – patiently peeling and deveining the deep-sea prawns on his plate with a knife and fork, then placing the tender white prawn meat into Ye Zhen's plate next to him.

Ye Zhen wore a beige wool coat today, her long hair casually tied in a bun, revealing her slender neck, making her look relaxed yet elegant. She forked a piece of shrimp and put it in her mouth, but her eyes were on Hans: "Thanks for the matter in Shanghai."

Hans cut a small piece of steak: "Ye, the Shanghai matter is just dessert. I showed that titanium-magnesium alloy buckle design you mentioned earlier to the materials experts at headquarters, and they were amazed! That design solves the problem of imaging under MRI; it's practically a miracle weapon for surgeons!"

Ye Zhen picked up her glass of red wine, took a sip, and said calmly, "Hans, that titanium-magnesium alloy buckle is only good enough to make a knife handle or scissors. It's just a small thing I casually threw out; it's nothing special."

Hans choked, thinking to himself, "That's top-notch stuff that can apply for international patents, but it's just a drop in the ocean for you?"

To save face, he carefully pulled a box from his briefcase: "Ye, you mentioned interventional materials. Look at this, this is our most advanced stainless steel coil to date, the pinnacle of industrial design! This hardness, this support, it's indestructible when blocking blood vessels."

Klaus chimed in, "This is currently the gold standard in Western medicine."

Ye Zhen glanced at the few gleaming iron rings, a playful smile curving her lips: "Gold standard? Hans, in my eyes, this is nothing more than industrial junk."

"What did you say?" Hans's hand trembled, and the "work of art" fell directly into the borscht.

"It's too hard, which means it's a one-time deal. Once released, even if the position deviates by half a millimeter, you can't retrieve it." Ye Zhen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable professional aura. "Putting something like this into the heart is like planting a landmine."

Hans's face flushed red: "But Ye, the laws of physics are there! Metal is hard! What we need is support! Do you expect to plug a hole in the heart with cotton?"

"Who told you that metals are necessarily hard?"

Ye Zhen put down her wine glass, tapped her fingertips lightly on the tablecloth, and uttered a word that was almost equivalent to science fiction in this era: "Nitinol."

Hans and Klaus were both stunned.

"The atomic ratio is close to 1:1, giving it superelasticity and shape memory effect." Ye Zhen's tone was as calm as if she were reciting a multiplication table. "At low temperatures, it can be compressed into an extremely thin tube, as soft as water. Once it is inserted into the human body, in this constant temperature environment of 37 degrees Celsius, it will immediately 'awaken' and return to its preset shape, firmly stuck in the defect of the heart."

"Can...can it be recycled?" Hans's voice began to tremble. He was an expert and knew immediately what this meant.

"Of course." Ye Zhen smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "As long as it's not free, it can be pulled back into the tube at any time. It softens when it gets cold, so you can adjust it however you want. This is the lifeline I'm preparing for Alice, and for millions of other children with congenital heart disease."

The private room was deathly silent.

Hans's brain was experiencing a magnitude 10 earthquake at that moment.

He'd heard of nickel-titanium alloy; it was an aerospace material the Americans used in hydraulic hose fittings for fighter jets! It was a military secret from the Cold War! This Chinese woman actually wanted to stuff it into someone's heart?

This is not just a leap forward in medicine, it's a revolution in materials science!

If stainless steel spring coils are horse-drawn carriages, then this thing is a supersonic airplane!

"The recipe!" Hans suddenly reached out to grab Ye Zhen's sleeve, but Gu Zheng gently blocked it with a chopstick.

"Just talk, don't lay a hand on me." Gu Zheng glanced at him coldly, his eyes like those of a wolf king guarding its prey.

Hans quickly withdrew his hand, so excited he was almost incoherent: "Ye! The smelting process for this alloy is extremely difficult, and the shape memory technology is even more... Only Siemens has the capability to do it! We need this! Give us the parameters, and I'll blow up the lab when I get back to Germany to make it for you!"

This isn't just medical work; this is like striking gold! If Siemens can get this patent, they'll have a 50-year monopoly on the cardiovascular interventional market!

Ye Zhen picked up her wine glass again, swirled it gently, and parted her red lips slightly: "Hans, I think you've misunderstood something."

She raised her eyes, her gaze piercing, and her queen-like aura instantly enveloped the entire room: "You handle the research and development; you handle the production. But the patent rights belong to me."

Hans was taken aback, but his businessman's instincts made him want to refute.

"You can refuse," Ye Zhen shrugged. "The president of GE's Asia Pacific region just sent me a telegram yesterday, saying he's very interested in Peking duck."

"No!" Hans practically roared. "Damn GE, let them eat duck ass! The patent is yours! Siemens wants exclusive production rights! I'm reporting to headquarters immediately!"

As long as we can get on this big ship, even if it's just for a drink, it's enough to propel Siemens Healthineers to the top spot in the world!

Klaus, who had been silent until now, cautiously spoke. His voice carried less of the politeness he showed to his colleague and more of the reverence he held for the master.

"Ye..." Klaus swallowed hard. "If... I mean if, this technology really matures and can cure heart disease without surgery... then could German children, I mean children like Alice who can't withstand open-heart surgery, come to China to see you?"

This is an extremely sensitive issue.

In the 1980s, it was only Chinese people who went abroad for medical treatment; there was no reason for foreigners to come to China for medical treatment. This was going against the tide, a pipe dream.

Ye Zhen put down her wine glass. The shrewdness of a business negotiator vanished from her face instantly, replaced by a compassion and magnanimity unique to a doctor.

"Medicine knows no borders." Ye Zhen looked at Klaus with clear eyes. "As long as it's a child, as long as it can be saved, I'll take it in."

Klaus was about to express his gratitude.

"However—"

Gu Zheng, who hadn't said much until now, suddenly spoke up.

He slowly wiped his hands, picked up the bottle and filled Hans and Klaus's glasses, a carefree smile typical of children from high-ranking families.

"We are a developing country with limited resources. We should prioritize the well-being of our own children, right?"

Klaus nodded repeatedly, "Of course, of course!"

"So," Gu Zheng picked up his glass, clinking it against Klaus's, "foreigners have to wait in line to see a doctor. And the registration and surgery fees... well, they have to be charged according to the foreign patient standard. Doubling that on top of that isn't unreasonable, is it?"

Ye Zhen turned to look at her husband, her eyes full of smiles.

"Not unreasonable," Ye Zhen added, "We also have to pay in foreign currency."

Hans and Klaus exchanged a glance and stood up at the same time.

At the table laden with Russian cuisine, two top experts from developed industrial countries solemnly raised their glasses, bowing their proud heads deeply to the young Chinese female doctor and the officer beside her who had been peeling shrimp all night.

"That's fair," Hans said, completely convinced, downing his drink in one gulp. "The throne of technology deserves the price of gold."

That night, the crystal chandeliers at the Moscow restaurant shone brightly as always.

But everyone knows that some unseen order has been quietly rewritten at this dining table.