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

The operating room door was tightly closed, but it couldn't keep out the chill that seeped into your bones.

There was no sound from here.

The shouting and cursing outside were completely shut out by the iron gate. Only the monotonous "beep-beep" of the monitor remained, pounding on one's eardrums more urgently than a death knell.

The high-wattage bulb of the operating room lamp scorched my scalp, yet the light was chillingly cold, casting a stark white glow on the operating table.

Ye Zhen stood at the surgeon's position. She didn't speak, nor did she look at Dean Wang, who was covered in sweat beside her. She simply lowered her head slightly, staring at the wound that had been stretched open.

That was a mess.

Dumdum bullets are ruthless once they're inside flesh. They're not meant to penetrate, they're meant to destroy. The bullet exploded inside the stone's abdominal cavity, like a barbed iron lotus seedpod, firmly gripping the bifurcation of the abdominal aorta. The surrounding network of blood vessels was mangled beyond recognition, dark red blood clots mixed with bits of flesh; the slightest movement could cause that section of the massive blood vessel, thinner than paper, to burst open instantly.

Dean Wang's hands, which were gripping the hemostat, were trembling.

He was a veteran military medic who had seen many battles and was used to seeing people missing limbs, but at this moment, he felt that what he was holding in his hands was not pliers, but a grenade with the pin pulled.

This surgery is impossible. It's like embroidering right under the nose of the King of Hell; if the stitch is even slightly off, the person is gone.

"Hemostats"

Ye Zhen spoke up.

The voice wasn't loud, nor was it high or low, and it carried no particular emotion, sounding no different from ordering food in the cafeteria. Yet, it was precisely this calmness that inexplicably reassured the flustered nurses.

"Wipe your sweat."

The circulating nurse quickly went over and pressed a gauze pad onto her forehead.

Ye Zhen's hands were steady. Those hands, which had been holding scalpels for years, were long and slender, with distinct knuckles, and her nails were neatly trimmed. She took the hemostat and did not immediately insert it into the wound, but stopped in mid-air, as if searching for an angle that did not exist.

"Probe"

The scrub nurse was taken aback. This wasn't in the standard surgical kit; it was something from the silver box Ye Zhen had brought.

An extremely thin, cold-looking metal probe was handed to her.

Dean Wang's eyelids twitched violently, and his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton; he wanted to offer advice but dared not utter a sound. That was the abdominal aorta! If such a thin probe were inserted, what if it punctured the blood vessel wall…

Ye Zhen didn't look at him, or even at the bloody, mangled wound.

She closed her eyes.

The air in the operating room seemed to freeze instantly.

The observing military doctors exchanged bewildered glances, barely daring to breathe. Blind operation? Retrieving the bullet lodged in the blood vessel entirely by feel, without any visual inspection? Was this girl insane or had she truly become a god?

In Ye Zhen's world, the light disappeared.

All the senses were focused on the fingertips of the right hand.

The probe slowly sank into that chaotic mass of flesh and blood.

It was an extremely subtle tactile sensation transmitted back along the metal needle shaft. Soft was the tissue, brittle was the bone fragments, and slippery and pulsating was the artery that could burst at any moment.

She was looking for that dead knot.

The feeling was strange, like groping for the fuse of a time bomb in the dark depths of the sea.

bumped into.

A very subtle feeling of stagnation came from my fingertips.

It had that metallic, slightly rough feel—hard and cool. A strand of connective tissue clung to the edge of the lead-core bullet, wedged precisely at the angle between two blood vessels.

This is it.

Ye Zhen suddenly opened her eyes.

In that instant, those eyes, which were usually cold and indifferent, became frighteningly bright, their pupils reflecting the cold light of the operating lights, sharp as a newly quenched knife.

Her wrist trembled very slightly.

That was an extremely clever "flick" technique. The wrist exerted force, and the fingertips hooked back, using just the right amount of force—too much and the blood vessels would rupture, too little and the bullet would slip away.

Clang!

A deformed and twisted brass-colored bullet was ejected, arcing through the air before slamming heavily into the stainless steel disc.

The commotion was so sharp and clear that it exploded in the deathly silent operating room, sending shivers down one's spine.

"Sizzle!"

The instant the bullet left the body, blood gushed out like a flood from the ruptured blood vessels, splashing directly onto the lampshade of the operating light.

"Apply pressure to stop the bleeding!"

Ye Zhen's voice suddenly rose, her words coming out like machine gun fire: "Gelatin sponge packing! 4-0 vascular sutures! Autologous blood filtration and reinfusion! Quickly!"

Her hands moved so fast that they were just afterimages.

With two fingers of his left hand pressed firmly against the bleeding point, he took the needle holder with his right hand and quickly threaded the needle in the small operating space, which was no bigger than a fingernail.

Dean Wang was dumbfounded.

This set of movements is expansive and powerful, yet incredibly detailed. There are no fancy moves; it's all about speed and precision, racing against death for that fleeting moment.

"Beep—beep beep—"

The monitor suddenly started alarming wildly, with the red light flashing incessantly.

"Her blood pressure is dropping too fast! 60/40!" The anesthesiologist's voice was hoarse from shouting, staring at the plummeting blood pressure. "Dr. Ye! The blood bank is running low! There's less than 400cc of type O blood left!"

In this kind of major surgery involving opening the abdomen, the blood was collected in basins.

The number of field hospitals was already small, and that massive blood loss just now has depleted their last reserves.

Ye Zhen didn't even raise her head; the suture needle in her hand continued to steadily pass through the blood vessel wall, tie a knot, and cut the thread without pausing for a moment.

"Open the door! Call for help!"

The circulating nurse didn't hesitate; she turned around, rushed to the door, and kicked open the operating room door.

The door that separated life and death slammed against the wall with a loud crash.

A cold wind, carrying the smell of Lysol, rushed into the corridor.

"We're running out of blood plasma! Type O blood! Quickly!"

The moment that shout was uttered, the crowd outside, who had been squatting like statues, erupted into chaos.

"Take mine!"

Li Yunlong charged forward like an enraged bull. This usually imposing army commander now had bloodshot eyes, rolled up his sleeves to reveal his thick, scarred arm, and stretched it straight out in front of the nurse.

"I'm blood type O! Take from me! I'll drain myself dry! As long as it saves that child!"

His voice trembled, filled with regret, as if he wished he could lie down in place of the child inside.

A large hand suddenly shoved Li Yunlong, causing him to stumble.

Gu Zheng strode forward, his training uniform still wet, mud and blood dripping down. His face was expressionless, but he exuded a menacing aura, like a wolf king protecting its young, standing in front of everyone.

"Get out of the way!" Gu Zheng's voice was hoarse, with a metallic harshness. "Your cholesterol is so high it could light a lamp, don't go in and clog your blood vessels! Take mine! I'm type O, all my health indicators are excellent! This kid is my brother!"

He didn't even wait for the nurse to react before grabbing the stack of blood bags and stuffing them into his clothes.

"Me too! I'm blood type O too!"

"Take mine! I have plenty of blood! Take as much as you want!"

The group of young guards behind them surged forward with red eyes, each one vying to offer their arms to the nurse.

Commander Wang stood at the back of the crowd, silently unbuttoning his top button to reveal his forearms, which were covered in age spots but still strong.

The long, narrow corridor was teeming with people. Despite it being a freezing winter night, a wave of heat that could scald you was emanating from it.

……

The sky was beginning to lighten with the first light of dawn.

The morning mist in the mountains had not yet dissipated, and the sun had not yet peeked out, only casting a faint golden edge on the eastern mountain ridges. The first rays of sunlight in the morning, like a golden sword, pierced through the gray sky and slanted across the frosted glass windows of the field hospital.

The red light above the operating room, its glow fading from exhaustion, snapped off with a "snap."

The dozen or so people in the corridor seemed to have been put on pause; all their movements froze in that instant.

The door slid open slowly, accompanied by the dry, rolling sound of the pulleys.

Gu Zheng was squatting in the corner, the unlit cigarette in his hand already crushed into dust. The moment the door opened, he felt as if he had been burned by a cigarette butt and tried to stand up abruptly. But his legs, which had been squatting all night, were numb, and his body swayed, his knee hitting the concrete floor heavily with a dull thud.

Ignoring the pain, he braced himself on the ground and staggered forward two steps before abruptly stopping.

Ye Zhen came out.

The green surgical gown she wore was long since unrecognizable, with large patches of dark red bloodstains on her chest and abdomen, as if a cruel yet flamboyant plum blossom banquet had been held there. Her mask was half off, hanging on her ears and dangling, revealing a small, pale face, as white as paper, even her lips devoid of color.

Sweat dampened the stray hairs on his forehead, which clung to his cheeks in strands.

Gu Zheng stared intently at her, his throat feeling like it was stuffed with a wad of cotton soaked in salt water, burning painfully, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.

Ye Zhen raised her eyelids.

Her gaze passed over the high-ranking officers with their generals' stars on their shoulders, over the anxious young soldiers, and finally landed on Gu Zheng's unshaven, grime-covered face.

She saw the bloodshot in his eyes and the taut lines of his jaw.

Ye Zhen gently exhaled a breath of foul air tinged with the smell of blood, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, which slumped slightly.

Then, her lips, which were always tightly pursed, slowly curved into a very faint smile.

He's alive.

Two words.

The sound was as light as a falling feather, yet it struck the heart with the weight of a mountain.

Gu Zheng's body swayed violently, as if the string that had been stretched taut had finally snapped.

The deathly silence in the corridor lasted for three seconds.

Immediately afterwards, a burst of suppressed sobs and low growls erupted.

Li Yunlong turned his back and slammed his fist against the wall, his shoulder shaking violently.

Commander Wang took a deep breath, tilted his head back, and forced back the tears welling in his eyes. He turned around abruptly, stomping his old military boots hard on the concrete floor with a loud "bang," which made the windows vibrate.

"Everyone has it!"

That shout, full of energy, roared out the imposing presence of someone who once commanded thousands of troops.

Gu Zheng, Li Yunlong, and all the guards and staff officers in the corridor, as if they had heard the bugle call to charge, instantly straightened their chests, raised their heads, and stood at attention.

The sound of heels hitting each other echoed like a thunderclap in the corridor.

"Salute to our benefactor!"

"brush!"

The synchronized sound of arms being raised was like a sharp blade slicing through the silence of the sky.

On this morning filled with the smells of blood, sweat, and disinfectant, two rows of elite soldiers, their uniforms gleaming, paid the highest tribute to the slender, blood-soaked, and barely able-bodied young female doctor.

Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on Ye Zhen and giving her blood-stained surgical gown a golden edge.

She stood in the light, looking at those pairs of eyes filled with hot tears, sincere and burning.

My right hand was still trembling slightly, a result of muscle spasms after a long and intensive surgery.

But at this moment, she felt that the hand that had held the scalpel all night was suddenly being held firmly by an invisible force.

Is this the world that Gu Zheng is willing to risk his life to protect?

Ye Zhen squinted, looking at the increasingly bright sunrise outside the window, and the smile on her lips deepened.

Indeed... it's quite worthwhile.