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

Ye Zhen sized up the two girls for a full minute.

The main room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Zhao Gang wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, barely daring to breathe. He knew the young female doctor's temperament all too well; this girl was not someone who could be swayed by a few pretty words or enthusiasm.

"You can't lift a finger," Ye Zhen finally spoke. She stood up and walked to the bookshelf where she had put the documents. "Then what makes you think that the Heart of China has free lunches for you?"

Zhao Lanlan stood up from the bench.

"I studied nursing, and I'm quite quick-witted," Zhao Lanlan said rapidly, as if afraid the other person wouldn't listen. "This month at the hospital, I've reviewed some medical records, know the typical symptoms of Tetralogy of Fallot, know how to interpret ventricular septal defect data, and even understand those difficult foreign terms during ward rounds. I have a silver tongue and can ask and answer questions, and I can also be patient!"

Gu Yue stood up as well, loudly adding, "Sister-in-law, I can stay up all night! I'm physically strong and not afraid of hardship! I can handle everything from organizing files to running errands!"

With her back to them, Ye Zhen pulled a thick-covered notebook from the bottom of the bookshelf.

She turned around and walked back, throwing the thick-covered notebook, along with several crumpled letters beside it, onto the octagonal table.

"Smack."

The dull thud of a heavy object falling onto the table struck everyone's hearts.

"Take a look." Ye Zhen pointed to the pile of things with her chin.

Zhao Lanlan picked up the crumpled letters. She glanced at them, and her brows furrowed deeply.

The letter was written on the cheapest, dark yellow straw paper, the poor-quality ink bleeding and blurry. There wasn't a single word about the exact diagnosis; it was all incoherent sobs and lamentations.

"Doctor, please have mercy and save my child. He can't breathe, and his mouth is a purplish-blue color. The village barefoot doctor said there's no cure, and we've even sold our cow to scrape together twenty yuan..."

There was no echocardiogram report, no electrocardiogram, and not even the child's exact age was clearly stated. Only a few dried tear stains blurred the edges of the rough paper.

"These are desperate SOS letters, written with nothing to show for it." Ye Zhen leaned on the table, looking down at Zhao Lanlan. "Every day, hundreds of these letters arrive at the main hospital's outpatient hall across the country, like snowflakes. The writers are all illiterate peasants. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. If no one manages those huge mailbags every day, it means that families who have scraped together twenty yuan for travel expenses won't even know which way the main hospital's doors open, and their children will suffocate on their beds. In some remote mountainous areas, a registered letter can take half a month to arrive. After you get the screening list, you have to precisely work backward from the surgery schedule to figure out when the letters were mailed. The addresses on the envelopes often only have the name of a township, so you have to repeatedly confirm with the local post office. You can't use medical jargon in the letters; you have to tell them in the most straightforward language: what illness they have, how many food coupons they need to bring, and how many clothes they need."

Ye Zhen's slender index finger tapped lightly on the dusty, thick-covered notebook.

"The special office approved by Dean Zhou is now just an empty shell with a painted sign hanging on it. The doctors and nurses are all working non-stop and there's simply no one available to deal with these letters. The students studying in Beijing can help sort out the screening files from first-tier cities, but they can't handle these most desperate pleas for help."

Ye Zhen paused for three seconds and looked at Zhao Lanlan.

"It's not just about opening letters. In a couple of days, the post office will send someone to the main hospital to set up a dedicated line. The hospital has applied for a separate national long-distance telephone line, which serves as the external communication channel for 'Heart of China'. Once that call is connected, most of the family members who call can't even speak Mandarin properly. They can cry and wail on the phone, and their words are incoherent."

Ye Zhen's tone turned cold and hard, exuding an undeniable authority.

"The person answering that long-distance call must have an iron will. They must be able to extract the child's age, frequency of cyanosis, and even signs of heart failure from those illogical cries, as easily as cutting through tofu. Then, they must make a decisive judgment on whether the child needs to buy a standing ticket to come to Beicheng immediately, or tell them directly which hospital in the area to find for oxygen therapy to save their life. On the other end of the phone, there might be a mother who is breaking down crying because she can't afford the travel expenses, a barefoot doctor with a heavy dialect who can't explain the illness clearly, or even a family member who doesn't understand the queuing rules and is cursing on the phone. You can't hang up, you can't lose your temper. Your emotions must be like a wooden doll, and no matter how much the other party throws a tantrum, you have to stuff the hospitalization process into their ears word for word."

At this point, Ye Zhen straightened up.

"This is called the triage center. It's the first door that allows those standing on the edge of a cliff to find a way out. If the door isn't guarded well, even the most skilled doctors inside will be useless."

She looked down at the two girls.

"This job is extremely demanding. There are no flowers, no applause. Doing it well is your duty, but messing it up could cost a life. Can you handle that?"

After hearing this harsh, almost cruel description, Zhao Lanlan did not back down; instead, she excitedly clenched the hem of her clothes.

"I can handle it."

Zhao Lanlan suddenly spoke, her voice trembling slightly. It wasn't fear, but the tremor of having discovered real skills and found a way to survive.

She stared intently at the rough letter seeking help on the table.

She had once been a cripple lying in a hospital bed, waiting to die. She knew all too well the despair of staring blankly at the ceiling, counting down the days. Now, a rope that could pull someone out of the mire had been handed to her, and she would never let go of it, even in death!

"Gu Yue will be in charge of the initial screening and filing of the letters," Zhao Lanlan said, her mind racing. "I'll answer that long-distance call, I'll write them back, and I'll be responsible for cleaning up this mess!"

She raised her hands, pressing her slightly deformed fingertips hard onto the letter, until her fingertips turned white.

"Sister-in-law, you're fighting against death in the operating room. I'll guard this triage door for you with my life. I swear on my life, I won't miss a single piece of information that offers any hope of saving you!"

Gu Yue was also patting her chest vigorously, her face flushed red, her eyes filled with a defiant spark.

Gu Zheng, who had been leaning against the kitchen doorframe observing, picked up his teacup and took a sip of water. He looked at the two transformed girls, a hint of approval flashing in his sharp eyes, before turning his gaze to his beloved wife.

He knew perfectly well that Ye Zhen, seemingly cold and aloof, was actually using this extremely cruel and calm method to completely shatter the "patient protective shield" surrounding Zhao Lanlan. She didn't offer even a shred of cheap sympathy; instead, she directly threw out the most difficult and realistic burden, rebuilding in this girl a true backbone that allowed her to stand tall and be a person in the 1980s!

Zhao Gang held back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He looked at his daughter, who was standing straight in front of the table. This sickly girl, who had been treated like a fragile person by the whole family, was now showing a tough and determined spirit, just like the elite soldiers under his command!

"OK."

Ye Zhen took the cardboard box that Gu Yue had brought and took out the stack of forms on top.

"There's no desk; go to the administration office to get one tomorrow. There's no special triage form; draw your own with a ruler." Ye Zhen's voice returned to its usual cool and crisp tone. "Let's go through the existing materials sent by this batch of students from Beijing first."

"The hospital director will be attending a meeting at the Ministry of Health next week. You have two days to complete the filing of all the current cases."