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

"So what do you plan to do?"

It was the Duke who spoke.

The English accent was cold and hard, honed in the debates of the House of Lords. Every word was pronounced precisely, like cutting steak with a silver knife—regardless of who was sitting opposite him, this "I have the right to question" tone was ingrained in his bones.

"I spent two million pounds to take my son halfway around the world."

"The Americans said no, the Japanese said no, and all the hospitals in Europe said no."

His gaze was fixed on Ye Zhen's face.

"You rejected them all in five minutes. Then I need to know—what is your proposal?"

Ye Zhen glanced at him.

Not too long, not too short, just enough to scan this person from head to toe.

"My proposal—"

She picked up the red and blue pencil again and began to write in the blank space on the right side of the lightbox.

"Don't walk in the middle, and don't walk on the right side."

The pen tip glides across the paper with a soft, scratching sound.

A surgical approach that no one had ever taken before was gradually taking shape on the yellowed white paper.

Edward caught his breath.

Williams jumped up from his chair, nearly knocking his reading glasses off.

"Left fourth intercostal space—via apical approach?!"

His voice trembled, and the flesh on his face shook as well.

"You want to go in from the very core of your heart?"

Ye Zhen ignored him.

The pen in his hand was still moving. A clean arc pierced through the very bottom of his heart, bypassing all the fatal minefields.

Clean. Beautiful. Like a sharp knife slicing through tangled mess.

"This road..." Williams' Adam's apple bobbed, his voice barely audible, as if he had witnessed someone jumping off a cliff, "...no one in the world has ever walked this road."

Ye Zhen finished with the last stroke.

The pen tip paused on the paper.

She turned around and glanced at everyone in the room.

"So they can't do it."

It paused for a moment.

"And I can."

No one spoke in the examination room.

Even their breathing became lighter, as if afraid of disturbing the oppressive force in the air.

The Duke pulled his hand out of his coat pocket.

He looked down at his palm.

I don't know when, but I was covered in sweat.

He didn't sweat in the British winter. He didn't sweat in New York when it was -12 degrees Celsius. He didn't sweat even when the professor in Tokyo, who bowed at a ninety-degree angle, told him there was "nothing he could do."

It's out now.

In a Chinese military hospital where even the plaster on the walls couldn't stay on, it happened.

"Go in from the very core of your heart..."

Edward lunged at the lightbox, his nose almost touching the blueprint. His eyes were bloodshot, red and bright, as if they had been sanded.

"It perfectly avoided the left anterior descending artery and bypassed the weakest 1.2 mm area of ​​the right ventricular wall..."

He muttered to himself, his finger hovering above the drawing, moving inch by inch along the curve.

"But!"

Edward turned around abruptly, his voice rising—

"How are you going to fix pulmonary atresia? You can get in, but the blood can't flow out, and your heart will still suffocate!"

"Build a pipeline."

Ye Zhen tossed the pencil onto the table. The movement was casual, and so was the sound.

"By bypassing the blocked main pulmonary artery, a valved conduit is built directly from the right ventricle to connect to the bifurcation of the pulmonary artery."

"What material?" Edward pressed closer, his eyes wide enough to fit an egg. "Polyester artificial blood vessels? The child is too young! If the blood clotting system collapses, he'll die on the spot!"

"No artificial blood vessels needed."

Ye Zhen spoke in a flat tone, as if she were reporting today's weather.

"No need?" Edward was stunned.

"Use your own pericardium."

Ye Zhen pointed to the side, and Liu Jianmin subconsciously straightened his back.

"A 0.6% glutaraldehyde solution was used to tan the child's own pericardium on-site. Since it's tissue that grows from their own body, there's no risk of rejection or long-term calcification."

Edward's expression changed.

Williams read through the special issue of the Chinese Journal of Surgery, which he had sent back to England from China, three times, word by word.

The part that sent chills down his spine the most was the clinical application of "glutaraldehyde tanning of autologous pericardium".

Core technologies created by Chinese people.

One of a kind in the world.

At the time, he felt the technology was too advanced and was unsure of its actual effectiveness.

Now it has been moved to the tabletop.

He wanted to use it on the child he had personally raised.

"But we need valves in the tubing!"

A British expert couldn't hold back any longer, his voice even louder than Edward's—

"You can use a tube to insert into the pericardium, but without a valve to stop it, blood will flow back in, and the right ventricle will be ruined!"

Ye Zhen glanced at him.

Then, she took a pair of surgical scissors out of her white coat pocket.

"Click."

A crisp sound.

She cut off a square piece of scrap paper from the lab report.

Under everyone's gaze.

He held the piece of paper between two fingers.

One fold.

Turn it over.

One volume.

The movements were neither too fast nor too slow, flowing smoothly like clouds and water.

Less than ten seconds.

A miniature "one-way valve" with three arc-shaped bag-like structures appeared at her fingertips.

Exquisite. Precise. The three bag openings have the same curvature, as if they were pressed out using a mold.

Ye Zhen tossed the paper valve in front of Edward.

"Utilizing the principles of fluid dynamics, the blood flow naturally expands the bag opening, enabling one-way circulation and preventing backflow."

She patted the scraps of paper off her hands.

"Purely handmade. Not a single steel wire is used for support."

Dead silence.

The entire consultation room seemed to have been muted.

Edward stared at the little thing on the table.

His hands rested on the edge of the table, his fingers trembling.

It wasn't fear. It was the first time someone who had worked in cardiac surgery for 35 years realized that their imagination had a ceiling.

Liu Jianmin opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He wanted to say something.

forget.

My mind is empty.

Edward finally understood.

Why didn't Mayo accept the challenge? Why did the Japanese call for a halt?

It's not that those people are incompetent.

In any normal evaluation system on this planet, they would be at the very top of the pyramid.

The problem is that they are still using the existing tools to repair the house.

And this Chinese woman in front of me is making her own tools.

She invented all the tools, selected the materials, and paved the way.

From the first step to the last, from blueprints to surgical procedures to instruments to valves—I handle everything myself.

There were no other footprints on the entire road.

"God..." Edward slumped into his chair, muttering the two words.

Ye Zhen raised her wrist and glanced at her watch.

"The child's blood oxygen level is currently 78%. The heart failure is irreversible. If it continues, it will lead to multiple organ failure."

Ye Zhen looked up.

My gaze passed over Edward, over Williams, and over the six ashen-faced British nurses—

It stared straight at the Duke's face.

"My pre-operative preparation will take two hours. If you agree, please sign the surgical consent form now."

He paused for a moment.

"I disagree. Take them back the way they were brought here."

"you--"

The Duke's assistant behind him was ashen-faced, his lips trembling as if he were about to explode.

The Duke suddenly raised his hand.

The five fingers are spread out in mid-air and remain motionless.

The assistant's words were stuck in his throat.

This old aristocrat, who controlled assets worth hundreds of billions of pounds, stared at Ye Zhen for a long time.

There was no anger in those eyes.

There was no resentment.

There was only one father who had stood on the edge of a cliff for too long before finally seeing a rope.

He wasn't sure if the rope could hold up.

But he knew even more clearly that besides this rope, there was an abyss beneath his feet.

"it is good."

The Duke's voice was as rough as sandpaper scraping through sheet metal.

"I'll sign."

"Lin Yi, get the order form."

Ye Zhen didn't even lift her eyelids, and the words were already out.

"Liu Jianmin, notify the anesthesiology department and the extracorporeal circulation team to meet in operating room number two in ten minutes. Prepare 20 ml of 0.6% glutaraldehyde and have the cooling blanket in place."

"yes!"

Lin Yi and Liu Jianmin responded almost simultaneously and rushed out.

The soles of their shoes scraped across the terrazzo floor, the footsteps quick and urgent, like a battle.

The consultation room suddenly started spinning.

No one paid any more attention to the group of British experts.

No one paid any attention to the Duke who controlled half of London.

It wasn't intentional neglect.

It was in this room that Ye Zhen spoke, and there was only one thing she wanted to do—to carry it out.

Gu Zheng remained leaning against the door frame.

With his long legs crossed and his arms clasped to his chest, he didn't utter a single sound from beginning to end.

He watched as his wife orchestrated the battle, completely subduing the world's top minds in the room, and the light in his eyes shone brighter than a shadowless lamp.

The matter has been settled.

He straightened up and walked over.

He didn't say anything nice.

He simply reached out and naturally pulled up the collar of Ye Zhen's white coat, which had slipped down.

"Go."

The voice was kept very low, only two people could hear it.

With his unique magnetism and undisguised indulgence.

"I'll keep an eye on those guys outside for you."

He tilted his head slightly, raising his chin towards the Duke.

"I will never let anyone disturb you."

Ye Zhen looked up at him.

The taut line at the corner of his mouth, which had been tense all day, finally relaxed a little bit.

The amplitude was very small. So small that bystanders wouldn't even notice it.

But Gu Zheng saw it.

She nodded.

He turned around and walked towards the end of the corridor.

The hem of the white coat swayed gently with each step, the footsteps unhurried, each step landing on the terrazzo.

It's as steady as a metronome.

At the end of the corridor, the large iron door of the operating room was pushed open heavily.

The cool scent of disinfectant, carrying an indescribable sense of tension, rushed over me.

The fluorescent tubes hummed on the corridor ceiling. A sliver of twilight light shone through the old frosted glass window, casting a long shadow.

The Cavendish family heir, whose contract was cancelled by Mayo, whose plans were halted by Tokyo, and who was sentenced to death by the whole of Europe—

He was wheeled into the operating room of this Chinese military hospital, where even the walls were peeling.

The operating light suddenly turned on.

A white light, like a waterfall, poured down on my head.

The "transapical approach to four radical treatments," which was considered an absolute forbidden zone in the history of cardiac surgery worldwide, officially began at this moment.