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

Time ticked by, and the ticking of the wall clock sounded like a death knell.

15 minutes.

18 minutes.

22 minutes.

"Anastomosis shaping".

Ye Zhen put down the needle holder, her voice still cold, as if she had just completed not a world-class surgery, but rather stitched up a tattered garment: "Press the air, rewarm, and open the aorta."

Zhang Guohua felt his legs go weak, a result of exhaustion from intense tension. Looking at the anastomosis, a work of art—smooth, clean, without a trace of blood—he was utterly astonished: this wasn't just medical skill, it was divine artistry.

As rewarming begins, the extracorporeal circulation machine pumps the warmed red blood back into the small body.

The pale heart began to fill out, slowly revealing a hint of pink.

Everyone stared intently at the monitor, not daring to even breathe.

"Jump...jump, jump!" Hans clenched his fists in the observation room, his nails digging into his flesh.

one second.

Five seconds.

ten seconds.

The heart remained still. A deathly silence enveloped the operating room.

Just as Zhang Guohua was about to get the defibrillator, a tiny radio wave suddenly appeared on the monitor, which had been a dead straight line.

Immediately afterwards—

"Thump!"

A powerful thud reverberated through the loudspeaker, reaching every corner.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

The waveforms rise and fall like mountains, rhythmic and stirring, like the battle drums of life.

"Resuscitation successful! Spontaneous heart rhythm! Blood pressure 75/45, blood oxygen is soaring! 95%...98%!" The anesthesiologist's voice cracked with excitement, tears welling up in his eyes. He pumped his fist like a madman, "He's alive! He's fucking alive!"

Zhang Guohua then realized that his surgical gown was soaked with cold sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of the water. He laughed and scolded, "Keep your voice down! Showing off your loud voice? Don't scare the child!"

He turned his head and looked at Ye Zhen.

Ye Zhen didn't cheer. She simply turned calmly and walked towards the QAD-1 color Doppler ultrasound machine, fine-tuning the IV infusion rate based on the real-time red and blue blood flow images. Under the dazzling light and shadow of the ultrasound, her cool profile appeared sacred and aloof.

This terrifying power of perfect integration of technology and medical skills sent shivers down the spines of all the doctors present.

Klaus silently took off his glasses, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, and said to Hans beside him, "If this were Europe, she would already be the president of the Cardiac Surgery Association. No, she should be a medalist."

Zhao Degong slumped back into his chair. He knew that from this moment on, the landscape of cardiac surgery in China had changed. That black hole, considered a "forbidden zone," had been forcibly pierced by a young woman with a scalpel.

The operating room doors slowly opened.

"Splash—"

The people who were sitting or squatting in the corridor suddenly surged forward, forming a dense, dark mass.

Besides medical staff, there were hundreds of college students who had been waiting for a long time, as well as family members of sick children shivering in the cold wind.

Ye Zhen took off her mask, revealing a slightly tired but still exquisite face.

At the front of the crowd was a man in worn-out overalls, and the woman beside him. They were the child's parents.

The man's rough, tree-bark-like hands clutched a crumpled wad of money and two hard-boiled eggs. The woman wore a faded, even slightly frayed, blue cotton gown; her hair was disheveled, and she was as thin as a bundle of firewood. She twisted the hem of her gown tightly.

Upon seeing Ye Zhen emerge, the two trembled violently, their lips quivering, unable to utter a single word. They simply stared intently at Ye Zhen, like prisoners awaiting judgment.

Ye Zhen walked up to him, her gaze level with theirs.

"Big brother, sister-in-law," Ye Zhen's voice was gentle, yet it carried the power to soothe the suffering of all beings, "The child's heart has been repaired. From now on, she can run, jump, go to school, just like other children."

"Bang!"

The man scattered his money and eggs all over the ground.

This seven-foot-tall man, who had endured countless hardships without shedding a single tear, suddenly broke down. He abruptly knelt on the concrete floor, letting out a muffled thud—a heart-wrenching wail:

"My benefactor! Dr. Ye! You're a living saint!"

The woman beside her buried her head in her knees, letting out a long-suppressed sob:

"My little girl... she's saved... that's my life..."

The woman cried so hard her whole body convulsed; it was a rebirth after despair, a mother's unwavering determination to save her child even if it meant tearing her own bones apart and selling them.

The college students around them, who were considered the pride of heaven, instantly had tears in their eyes, and several sentimental girls even covered their mouths and burst into tears.

"Get up quickly." Ye Zhen bent down and supported her arm.

The man grabbed the money from the ground, intending to stuff it into Ye Zhen's white coat pocket, but then, worried about getting the doctor's clothes dirty, he awkwardly wiped himself down, saying, "I don't have much money..."

"Take them back." Ye Zhen pressed Liu Tie's hand and picked up the two eggs, which were still warm from his body. "These two eggs are a token of our appreciation, and that's enough. The country has policies, and the China Heart Foundation has a fund. A child's life cannot be bought with money."

"Respect to Teacher Ye!"

In the crowd, one of the students shouted out in a tearful voice.

Immediately following was a torrent of hundreds of voices, like thunderclaps, crashing against the mottled ceiling of the military hospital, echoing for a long time.

That wasn't a perfunctory salute; it was the sound of faith taking root.

Ye Zhen stood on the steps, the hem of her white coat still carrying the faint smell of disinfectant, typical of the operating room, and the lingering warmth of the two red-shelled eggs. She looked at the group of students in front of her, dressed in various cotton-padded coats and wrapped in thick scarves. Their faces were red from the wind, but their eyes shone with an alarming brightness.

Ye Zhen felt her eyes sting. She didn't speak, but simply bowed slowly to the crowd.

The movements were slow, but they commanded the scene.

The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted in even more enthusiastic applause.

As Gu Linlin clumsily brushed the dust off the man's trousers, she muttered, "Uncle, the good days are yet to come. Don't kneel. Teacher Ye doesn't do that."

Gu Zheng walked through the crowd, carrying a pot of warm water. He didn't even glance at the excited crowd, but simply tucked Ye Zhen's slightly messy hair behind her ear, his eyes filled with an affection that transcended life and death.

"Your hands are so cold?" He wrapped his large hand around Ye Zhen's icy fingertips, his brows furrowing slightly.

"It's alright." Ye Zhen took a sip of water, a slight smile playing on her lips.

Just then, a young nurse ran over in a panic: "Dr. Ye, something terrible has happened! Dean Zhao... Dean Zhao from Shanghai just fainted!"

Ye Zhen raised an eyebrow: "What's wrong? Low blood sugar?"

"No..." The nurse looked puzzled, suppressing a laugh, "He just woke up after we pinched his philtrum. Dean Zhao himself said... that when he saw the blood flow graph suddenly turn red, he got so excited that he couldn't catch his breath and passed out..."

Ye Zhen: "..."

Gu Zheng raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile playing on his lips: "His mental fortitude is too weak. Tell him he can learn the skill, but he has to pay the three hundred yuan tuition fee first. Otherwise, I'll assume he's trying to scam me."