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

The rain in London fell on the exterior walls of the Royal Hospital, leaving dark watermarks on the grey and white stone bricks.

The conference room was full of people.

A projector sits at the front of the long table, a screen hangs on the wall, wires are wrapped around the chair legs, and the secretary bends over to adjust the film.

Williams placed his briefcase on the table, and the soft click of the latch opening drew the attention of several doctors in the back row.

Professor Patrick crossed his arms.

"Sir, we have read your telegram."

Williams took out the videotape.

"The telegram is too short."

Patrick's tone was unfriendly.

"But it's absurd enough: 35 minutes, 8mm occluder, 95% post-operative blood oxygen saturation—these numbers sound more like propaganda."

Green sat to the side and opened his notebook.

"I saw it with my own eyes."

Another older doctor, Harold, shook his head.

"Green, you've been in China for too long, and the atmosphere on set can easily influence your judgment."

Anderson looked up, his voice tinged with resentment.

"Mr. Harold, filmmaking is not affected by atmosphere."

Patrick looked at Williams.

"What about the data sources? Were the blood collection instruments calibrated? Who performed the ultrasound? Is it possible that the Chinese side selectively showed you the best-looking data?"

Several voices echoed in the conference room.

"We cannot let public opinion lead us by the nose."

"The Royal Infirmary cannot be swayed by a single surgical performance."

"Gore has submitted a written statement arguing that there are ethical risks associated with autologous materials and non-standard sealing solutions."

Williams did not answer immediately; he placed a roll of film next to his secretary.

"Play the preoperative information first."

The secretary pressed the switch, the screen lit up, and Alice's pre-operative heart image was projected in front of everyone.

Tricuspid atresia, single ventricular circulation, complex pulmonary blood flow pathways—a line of numbers popped up on the screen, and the voices in the conference room lowered.

Patrick picked up his glasses and put them on.

"We have reviewed this preoperative information."

Williams stood beside the curtain.

"Then you also know the conclusion she reached in Europe."

Harold said.

"High risk, surgery is not recommended."

Williams looked at him.

"The words 'not suitable for surgery' are a light word when written on a medical record, but when they come to the family, it means they should go home and wait for the death certificate."

Patrick put down his pen.

"Sir, please maintain an academic tone."

Williams glanced back at him, but did not back down.

"Patients also exist within the academic context."

The meeting room was quiet for a moment. The secretary changed to the second volume, and the screen showed the footage of the Beijing catheterization lab.

The black-and-white angiography showed graininess as the guidewire entered through the femoral artery and then advanced along the blood vessel.

Anderson couldn't help but sit up straight.

"This is it."

Patrick stared at the screen.

"stop."

The secretary pressed stop, and Patrick got up and walked to the front of the curtain.

"When the guidewire is inserted at this angle, even a slight deviation can cause perforation."

Williams said.

"Dr. Ye mentioned this risk separately at the preoperative meeting."

Harold replied coldly.

"Just because she talked about the risks doesn't mean she can control them."

Williams gestured to his secretary to continue. The camera moved forward, and as the guidewire passed through the interatrial septum, there was no extra movement. The front disc of the occluder was released, and the rear disc opened afterward. Patrick's hand was still hanging in mid-air, and he did not say "stop" again.

Harold leaned closer to the curtain, staring at the outline of the plug.

"The original instruction manual states that it is 12 millimeters."

Green pushed the notebook over and pressed his fingertip on the line of parameters.

"Dr. Ye denied it on the spot. The edge of the artificially cut window is too thin. If it is cut by twelve millimeters, the atrial septum will be torn."

Patrick turned around.

"That's her speculation."

Williams picked up another film.

"Then let's look at the postoperative angiography."

The secretary changed the film, the contrast agent was introduced, the occluder was clearly positioned, the edges were fitted, and there was no leakage. The chairs in the conference room made a few soft creaks, some people sat forward, and some people took off their glasses to wipe them.

Harold's finger stopped on the table.

Play it again.

The secretary looked at Williams, who nodded.

"Starting from before the release."

The image rewinds, and the occluder opens again on the screen, once, twice. During the push-pull test, the device is subjected to traction inside the heart, but its position remains stable.

Patrick's lips were pressed into a thin line.

"What about the blood oxygenation curve?"

Williams handed the graph to his secretary, and the image on the screen was replaced with a table showing preoperative blood oxygen, intraoperative blood oxygen, postoperative blood oxygen, three hours postoperatively, and three days postoperatively. Each number was marked with the collection time and equipment number.

Patrick stared at the last column.

Ninety-five.

Anderson said.

"A follow-up examination three days after the surgery showed that the heart rate was stable and the liver and kidney functions were normal."

Harold asked.

"Who performed the auscultation?"

Williams looked at him.

"I."

Patrick frowned.

"You listened to it yourself?"

Williams nodded without hesitation.

"No residual shunt murmur at the apex of the heart, lungs are clear, heart rate is 84."

Harold sat back down in his chair.

Is it possible that the short-term data looks good, but there are long-term problems?

Williams said.

"So Dr. Yeh required weekly monitoring of blood oxygen and heart rate, and a follow-up examination six months later. She even filled out an anticoagulation management form."

Patrick picked up the form.

"The Chinese side has made thorough preparations regarding INR control range, dosage adjustment, dietary reminders, and recording of abnormal symptoms."

Anderson interrupted.

"In the training course at the main hospital, they broke down every complication for the students."

Harold looked at him.

"You're giving Dr. Ye too much credit."

"I am evaluating the surgical video."

Patrick put the documents on the table.

"But we cannot ignore the political consequences."

Williams looked at him.

"What political consequences?"

"What will the newspapers say if a British child goes to China for cardiac interventional treatment?"

"The newspapers will report that a child has survived."

"It will also write, 'The Royal Hospital is incompetent.'"

Williams walked back to the table and placed his hands on either side of the documents.

"If we're afraid of what the newspapers will say, and we continue to let our children line up to die, that would be true incompetence."

Harold's face darkened.

"Sir, are you criticizing the entire British cardiac surgery system?"

Williams said.

"I'll blame myself first."

Everyone in the room looked at him. Williams picked up his stethoscope and placed it on the table.

"In Berlin, I called her the Eastern Witch."

Green looked up, but Patrick remained silent.

Williams continued.

"I believed she was conducting live experiments on a child. I informed the media and waited for her to fail, to be nailed to the pillar of shame in the history of European medicine."

Anderson opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Williams looked at the image of a heart on the screen.

"But she saved Alice."

Harold said in a low voice.

"One success is not enough to establish a standard."

Williams picked up the 8mm occluder record.

"One successful case cannot establish all standards, but it is enough to overturn a flawed absolute standard."

Patrick said.

"You want the Royal Hospital to acknowledge that Chinese doctors are ahead of the competition?"

Williams turned around.

"I want the Royal Hospital to admit that patients come before face."

As soon as he finished speaking, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the conference room. The secretary pushed open the door and entered, carrying a stack of newspapers.

"Sir, a lot of family members have arrived outside."

Patrick frowned.

"What family members?"

The secretary handed over the newspaper.

"The parents of children with congenital heart disease saw Alice's interview after returning to China."

Harold took a copy; the front page photo showed Alice sitting in a wheelchair, holding a card with a picture of a Chinese window, and the headline was printed in a glaring way.

A Chinese surgery gave the shipping magnate's granddaughter a new heartbeat; will other British children have the same opportunity?