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

As the bonfire party gradually faded away, the smoky aroma, a blend of pine wood scent and stewed meat fat, lingered in the backyard of the military hospital's family quarters.

After having eaten and drunk their fill, the family members and children returned to their wards to rest.

The once bustling open space is now deserted, with only a few young medical students remaining. They are quickly rolling up their sleeves and cleaning up the mess, the iron pots clattering against the iron ladles.

Ye Zhen stood a little further away.

She found a bare old locust tree and quietly leaned against its rough trunk.

Working non-stop for several days and performing 23 highly complex surgeries almost completely exhausted her.

As soon as the surroundings quieted down, the aching pain in my bones began to seep out in wisps.

Gu Zheng had walked up to her without her noticing.

He had a coat draped over his hand, and with a broad gesture, he wrapped it tightly around her shoulders without a word.

"Are you cold?"

Gu Zheng lowered his eyes, his rough hands gently adjusting her collar. His voice was low, filled with undisguised heartache, "Your face is as white as paper."

"It's not cold."

Ye Zhen smiled slightly. "This big pot of pork worked well today. I saw those British experts eating it with more gusto than anyone else. It's safe to say that we've won over their Western food palates."

Gu Zheng snorted coldly, raising an eyebrow: "A bunch of foreign kids, do you think they can cause any trouble on our turf?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a series of heavy, hurried footsteps treading on fallen leaves came from behind.

George, carrying a thick brown paper document bag, strode out of the shadows.

He didn't bring a cameraman with him; his tall figure cast a long shadow under the streetlights.

He stopped two steps away from Ye Zhen, his usually arrogant face now filled with struggle, and his eyes were a little red.

Gu Zheng keenly sensed that the other person's emotions were off, and subconsciously leaned forward slightly.

His years of military service had honed his vigilance, which instantly heightened his alertness. He positioned half of his body firmly in front of Ye Zhen, his dark eyes fixed on George with a wary gaze.

"Mr. George, what kind of trouble are you trying to cause so late at night?"

Gu Zheng's voice was icy cold.

"Dr. Ye."

George ignored Gu Zheng's icy gaze, looked over Gu Zheng's shoulder, stared straight at Ye Zhen, and swallowed hard. "There's something I think I must give you myself."

He handed over the crumpled file folder, his fingers trembling slightly.

Ye Zhen gently patted Gu Zheng's arm, signaling him to calm down.

She reached out from behind Gu Zheng and took the slightly heavy file bag.

Although Gu Zheng stepped back half a step, his muscles remained tense, like a leopard ready to pounce at any moment.

Ye Zhen opened the seal under the dim streetlights and took out the documents inside.

It was an exquisitely printed report entirely in English, several dozen pages thick.

On the cover, a bold black title is alarming: "Long-term calcification risk and clinical observation of autologous pericardium as a patch material for large blood vessels".

At the very bottom of the report, there is a logo that is renowned in the global medical community, and the signatory organization is Gore.

Ye Zhen narrowed her eyes slightly, gently stroking the printed paper with her fingertips, without speaking immediately.

George took a deep breath, seemingly having made a great decision: "Dr. Ye, this is a long-term observational study secretly conducted by a heart center on behalf of Gore. The report indicates that the 'glutaraldehyde-tanned autologous pericardium regimen' you are promoting has a 30% risk of calcification and tearing within five years post-surgery."

He paused, his face pale: "Some people want me to use this report to attack you in front of the whole world on tomorrow's broadcast, to completely smear your low-cost autologous material solution."

Upon hearing this, Gu Zheng's eyes suddenly turned cold and sharp.

He snatched the report from Ye Zhen's hand and flipped through it a couple of times. Although he couldn't understand the foreign language, he was all too aware of the murderous intent behind it.

"Those sons of capitalists."

Gu Zheng let out a cold laugh, the veins on his neck bulging, exuding a terrifying killing intent only found on the battlefield. "Unable to compete openly in terms of skill, you resort to underhanded tactics, targeting my wife?"

Gu Zheng turned and glared fiercely at George, grabbing his collar: "How much did they bribe you to do this dirty work?!"

George gave a wry smile, not dodging the question: "Ten thousand pounds, plus a promise to recommend me to the BBC's top editorial board. Also, Gore announced that they would provide the latest vascular patches for these twenty-three British children 'free of charge'."

George's voice was a little hoarse: "Fame and fortune, plus the reputation of saving the country's children. Dr. Ye, for a journalist, this is an irresistible temptation."

"The temptation of fucking farts!"

Gu Zheng's eyes were bloodshot, and his fist was about to strike. "I'm going to find that Parker guy right now!"

"Gu Zheng, let go."

Ye Zhen's clear, cold voice rang out in the night wind; it wasn't loud, but it brooked no dissent.

Gu Zheng was stunned for a moment, and looking at his wife's calm face, he forced himself to suppress his anger.

He angrily loosened George's collar and said coldly, "At least you have some conscience, you didn't actually spill the filth."

Ye Zhen withdrew her gaze and continued to flip through the report in her hand.

Her face remained completely expressionless, as if she were looking not at a piece of damaging information that could ruin her career, but at an old newspaper.

She read quickly, her gaze sweeping precisely over the fabricated or deliberately distorted data models.

A few minutes later, she turned to the last page.

With a "snap," Ye Zhen closed the report.

She suddenly chuckled softly.

The laughter was exceptionally clear in the quiet night, revealing only undisguised mockery.

"Pretending to be generous, that's just the typical face of capitalists."

"Didn't they even read the most basic medical records? Didn't they know that all twenty-three children I performed were non-open-chest interventional closure surgeries?"

George froze completely in place.

"From start to finish, we only made one puncture hole in the blood vessel in the thigh."

Ye Zhen's voice was firm and resolute. "We didn't open any of the children's heart chambers, we didn't perform vascular resections, so naturally we didn't need any patches. Whether it's their Gore patches that cost tens of thousands of yuan each, or our pericardial membranes that cost only a few cents, none of them were used in these twenty-three surgeries. They deliberately acted generous, but in reality, they knew that they only needed to talk and didn't have to spend a single penny."

Ye Zhen looked at George, whose face was flushed red and who was so ashamed that he wished he could disappear into the ground, and the coldness on her face gradually faded.

"Thank you, George."

Ye Zhen suddenly spoke in a gentle voice.

George suddenly looked up, his eyes even redder: "Dr. Ye, I..."

"Thank you for handing me the report."

Ye Zhen looked at the warm light shining from the ward in the distance. "Faced with ten thousand pounds and fame and fortune, you ultimately chose to be a real journalist."

The night breeze blew again.

This time, George felt an intense burning sensation in his chest.