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

After the medication was injected into the intravenous line, everyone in the catheterization lab was stunned by the blood oxygen saturation figure that had plummeted to 68.

The anesthesiologist's hand was still hovering beside the oxygen valve, but he dared not touch the knob again.

Fiona put the empty syringe back into the kidney dish, her silver hair plastered to her forehead, her chest heaving painfully, yet she still kept her eyes on the IV pump at the rhythm Ye Zhen had instructed her to maintain before the surgery.

Outside the observation room, George had already had the cameraman change to the second tape. The microphone cord was wrapped around his feet as he stared at the monitoring screen, even calculating the interval between blinks.

"Keep filming, don't stop."

He glanced at the blood oxygen level of 68 again, his lips tightening.

"If they can't be saved, this will be evidence that all of Europe will see."

Williams didn't look at him, but instead rested his hands on the windowsill, the veins on the back of his hands bulging deeply.

Inside the catheterization lab, Ye Zhen stared at the pulmonary artery pressure curve, pressed the delivery cable with her right hand, and gently tapped the edge of the sterile drape three times with her left.

a bit.

Two times.

Three times.

The alarm was still shrill.

The blood oxygen curve did not drop any further.

The number sixty-eight stopped on the screen, like a door held down by a hand; behind the door was death, and in front of it was the heartbeat of everyone.

The anesthesiologist's voice tightened: "Dr. Ye, it hasn't fallen any more."

Ye Zhen did not turn around; her gaze was fixed on the point where the pulmonary artery pressure dropped.

Fiona looked down and wrote: "One minute and forty seconds after administration, blood oxygen saturation is 68%, and pulmonary artery pressure has begun to drop."

Upon hearing this, the light gradually drained the color from Brown's face.

Just as he was about to speak, the blood oxygen saturation on the screen began to rise.

Seventy-five.

Eighty-two.

Eighty-seven.

ninety.

The monitor's alarm stopped, and only the regular ticking sound remained in the catheterization lab. The suffocating feeling that had almost crushed one's chest was reopened at this moment.

The anesthesiologist let out a long breath, his knee hitting the edge of the trolley, the metal tray making a soft click.

Liu Xiaohe raised her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead, her eyes revealing both lingering fear and deep respect for Ye Zhen.

Ye Zhen's hands did not stop moving.

She pressed the catheter opening with tweezers, her voice drowning out the remaining instrument noise.

"Continue to release the tail of the plug and confirm the lock."

Liu Xiaohe immediately handed over the equipment: "Release the tail section, confirm the locking mechanism."

"Remove the steel cable."

"The steel cables have been removed."

"Angiography"

As the contrast agent was injected, the abnormal shunt that had stolen the child's life on the screen was completely cut off, the aortic blood flow became strong again, and the occluder was firmly stuck at the edge of the flare, without displacement or residual leakage.

Brown opened his mouth, but no complete word came out of his throat.

George moved the microphone closer, trying to pry a half-truth out of his face.

Brown avoided the camera, looking down at the tips of his shoes, his pen squeaking in his hand.

Williams took off his reading glasses, wiped the edges of the lenses little by little with a handkerchief, and then turned to look at Brown.

Remember this one minute.

Brown's lips turned pale: "Sir, I admit she was saved, but not administering oxygen while in a hypoxic state is not mentioned in any London textbook."

Williams put his glasses back on and his gaze fell back on the white figure in the catheterization lab.

"So you're standing here today to make up for this lesson."

Brown looked up at him.

Williams spoke slowly, and each word was spoken clearly.

"The textbook describes the safety boundaries of the past. When a patient is lying on the operating table, the doctor is facing the changing blood flow, the constricting pulmonary vessels, and the heart that could stop at any moment."

He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the screen as the blood oxygen level returned to ninety.

"Brown, clinical practice will strip away all arrogance."

Brown did not argue further.

In the catheterization lab, Ye Zhen completed the final examination and raised her hand to signal the nurse to observe the dorsalis pedis artery.

The nurse in charge of observing Emily's feet placed her fingers on the instep of her foot, and the next second she looked up, her voice filled with barely suppressed excitement.

"Dr. Ye, the dorsalis pedis artery pulse has returned, and the temperature in my toes has also come up."

Fiona leaned down to look over.

Emily's originally purplish fingertips were fading, and a light pink was slowly showing through her pale skin, like a small lamp that was about to go out, which was being protected from the wind.

Ye Zhen glanced at it only once before turning her gaze back to the record sheet.

"Record the time, the circulation resumes after the blockage, and the temperature at the extremities rises."

Fiona held the pen, her fingertips trembling slightly, yet she wrote with exceptional seriousness.

"Yes, Dr. Ye."

In the corridor, the translator received the results and quickly ran towards the family area.

"Emily's surgery was successful. The shunt was closed, circulation in her foot was restored, and the child is out of danger."

Mrs. Taylor was still standing when she heard the first part of the sentence, but when she heard the words "the child is out of danger," she felt as if all her strength had been drained away and she collapsed to the ground.

She covered her mouth with a small wool blanket, her sobs muffled by the fabric, leaving only her shoulders trembling.

The British father, who had previously questioned her for cutting in line, walked over to her and bent down to help her up.

"Emily will go to Tiananmen Square."

Mrs. Taylor raised her tearful eyes and nodded several times, but she couldn't utter a single word.

A dozen minutes later, the heavy lead doors of the catheterization lab opened to both sides.

George practically rushed forward, with the cameraman following behind carrying his equipment, the lens pointed directly at Ye Zhen's sweaty forehead and her face after she took off her mask.

"Dr. Ye, you have just proven in front of the world's cameras that the Chinese approach is superior to the British approach. Is there anything you would like to say to the British medical community?"

Ye Zhen didn't look at the camera. She just threw her sweat-soaked mask into the medical waste bin and turned to walk towards the head nurse of the ward who was waiting at the door.

"Emily is being taken to the ICU. Keep her warm on the way and avoid drafts."

The head nurse immediately opened the logbook: "Yes."

"Within the next twelve hours, intravenous fluids should be administered at a rate of no more than 15 milliliters per hour. Any more than one milliliter must be reported to me. The heart has just been relieved of its burden and cannot withstand large volumes of fluid."

"clear."

"Two hours later, bedside ultrasound will be used to check the pulmonary artery pressure drop and the location of the occluder."

"Yes."

"If the blood oxygen level is below 88%, check the lung pressure first, and do not add oxygen directly."

The head nurse paused for a moment, then nodded emphatically.

"I will guard it myself."

George took a half-step with the microphone, still unwilling to give up.

"Dr. Ye, don't you want to address the question you just raised? Dr. Brown once believed that your procedure could cause medical malpractice."

Ye Zhen took off her gloves.

"What's the name of the next child?"

The head nurse immediately replied, "James, six years old."

Ye Zhen glanced down at the medical record, then turned to the sink.

"Have the anesthesiology department conduct an early assessment, follow the revised oxygen flow plan before surgery, and re-verify the family's consent form. Don't let the cameras block the transport channel."

George's microphone hung in mid-air, and the camera only captured her back as she walked towards the sink, along with the rubber glove stained with blood next to the trash can.

There was no declaration of victory.

He didn't even say a word in his own defense.

Williams walked to George's side, looked at Ye Zhen, and spoke in a low voice.

"George, you won't get the shot you want."

George frowned: "I filmed the successful surgery."

Williams shook his head.

"You also filmed a doctor who doesn't treat success as a performance."

George fell silent, and for the first time did not immediately refute him.

Williams put his hands in his coat pockets and looked over the glass door at the still busy catheterization lab.

"She just pulled a child back from the brink of death."

He looked at the camera, his tone more serious than any interview statement.

"This deserves to be recorded more than any speech."

None of the British doctors in the corridor dared to question it anymore.

In the family area, the previously anxious parents no longer surrounded the nurses' station, nor did they ask who went first or last.

They watched as Emily was gently wheeled into the intensive care unit, and as Mrs. Taylor stood beside the bed, holding her daughter's warm little hand. The scrutiny and pride she had brought from London in her eyes were gradually dispelled by the operating lights.

George instructed the cameraman to turn the lens towards the end of the corridor.

There, the second trolley had already been pushed out by the nurse.

Ye Zhen stood back at the entrance of the catheterization lab, her eyes showing no signs of fatigue or lingering pride after her victory.

She simply raised her hand and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"start."

The operating lights came on again.

The rules that belong to the heart of China were also displayed before the world's cameras at this moment.

Whoever is closest to death goes on stage first.

Whoever can save a life has the final say.

The British parents who had been queuing outside quietly sat back down on the bench, clasped their hands together, and looked repeatedly at the red operating light.