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

The glass observation corridor above the operating room was so crowded that not even a fly could get in.

Not only cardiothoracic surgeons, but even the heads of general surgery and anesthesiology departments who weren't on duty rushed to the scene. Everyone wanted to see just how bold that young, blond girl, whom Dean Zhang had asked her to guide in performing surgery, really was.

Professor Wang sat in the middle of the first row, arms crossed, his face ashen.

"This is utterly childish." He glanced down at the operating table being prepared for anesthesia, scoffed, and whispered to the vice president beside him, "In the past, this would have been a serious political mistake! An incision under the armpit for the heart? Is that like raiding a bird's nest? The field of vision is so narrow, you can't even see the whole heart, let alone repair it!"

Several experienced doctors nearby also shook their heads.

"Dean Zhang has lost his mind this time; he's been bewitched by this girl."

"Just wait, if they can't find a position after opening the chest, we'll have to go down and save the day."

Gu Zheng stood in the far corner of the corridor, his posture as straight as a pine tree. The brim of his military cap was pulled low, obscuring most of his face, revealing only a section of his cold, hard jawline. The surrounding chatter buzzed like flies, but he seemed not to hear it. His dark eyes, peering through the glass, were fixed on the slender figure beside the operating table.

That was her battlefield.

"Surgery begins."

Dean Zhang's calm voice came through the loudspeaker, but if you listened carefully, there was a subtle tension in the last syllable.

The operating lights suddenly turned on, and the pale beam of light enveloped the operating table, turning it into an isolated island.

Ye Zhen stood in the assistant's position, using a footstool because she wasn't tall enough. Her hands, gloved with sterile gloves, were raised in front of her chest, making her look like a sharp blade sheathed. Even though she hadn't drawn her sword yet, the chill emanating from her made the circulating nurses afraid to breathe loudly.

"Standard disinfection drapes." Ye Zhen's voice was unusually calm.

Dean Zhang took a deep breath and accepted the scalpel.

"Right mid-axillary line, fourth intercostal space," Ye Zhen's voice rang out again, concise and crisp. "Incision length, six centimeters."

Six centimeters?

An uproar erupted in the observation room. A normal open-chest surgery requires an incision of at least twenty centimeters! This is like trying to embroider through a keyhole—pure nonsense!

Dean Zhang paused for a moment, but still steadily lowered the knife along the line drawn by Ye Zhen.

The skin split open, and the flesh tore open.

"Stop bleeding with electrocautery and separate the latissimus dorsi muscle."

Ye Zhen's instructions were extremely precise, and she even anticipated Dean Zhang's actions.

Just as Dean Zhang had used the electrocautery to separate a layer of muscle, preparing to probe into the chest cavity—

"laugh!"

A sudden change has occurred!

A mutated intercostal artery, hidden deep within the muscle and growing in ways completely contrary to anatomical norms, was instantly ruptured by the high temperature of an electrocautery knife!

Bright red blood gushed out like a high-pressure water gun, splashing directly onto Dean Zhang's goggles, instantly turning his vision blood red!

The observation room erupted in chaos.

Professor Wang jumped up, his chair overturning with a crash: "I told you it wouldn't work! Such a small cut, and now it's covered in blood—it's like the blind men and the elephant!"

In such a narrow, deep field of vision, it is difficult to find the bleeding point when an artery ruptures. By the time the incision is enlarged to stop the bleeding, the child may have gone into shock due to blood loss.

Dean Zhang subconsciously reached for the gauze packing—

"Don't move."

Ye Zhen showed no panic whatsoever, not even a flicker of emotion in her eyes. Her left hand plunged into the pool of blood with lightning speed.

Blind operation!

She doesn't even look at it!

"Curved pliers." Ye Zhen spread out her right hand.

The scrub nurse paused for a second, then, after being swept by Ye Zhen's cold gaze, instinctively slapped the curved forceps into her palm.

Ye Zhen held the pliers in her right hand and, following the guidance of her left index finger, suddenly thrust them downwards, producing a crisp "click" sound as the metal snapped shut.

That was the sound of the hemostat locking mechanism snapping shut.

The gushing blood stopped abruptly.

Like a chicken whose neck has been choked, the bleeding point that was just moments ago so dangerous has instantly become docile.

The whole process took less than three seconds.

"Number 7 silk thread".

Ye Zhen didn't hesitate, taking the silk thread. At that moment, her left index finger hooked around the still-pulsating vein, while her right hand held the thread, in an extremely confined space—

Flip your wrist, hook the line with your index finger, and push with your middle finger.

One-handed deep knot tying!

And it was three consecutive surgical knots!

The movements were so fast that they were just afterimages. The people in the observation room hadn't even seen how her fingers moved before the excess thread was already cut off.

"Suck out the accumulated blood."

Ye Zhen tossed the blood-stained gauze into the sink, glanced at Dean Zhang who was still frozen in place, and said in a calm tone, "Teacher Zhang, continue."

The operating room was deathly silent.

In the observation corridor, Professor Wang's eyes, which had been filled with disdain, were now wide open like copper bells, and his mouth was agape enough to fit a duck egg.

That move just now... was it a one-handed blind knot strike?

This kind of amazing skill is something that even the supposedly top-notch American expert at last year's international surgical academic conference couldn't do as well, let alone in China.

This isn't some young girl in her early twenties! This is clearly a seasoned veteran who's been on the operating table for thirty years!

"Teacher Zhang?" Ye Zhen frowned slightly and urged.

Dean Zhang suddenly came to his senses.

"Okay...okay!" Dean Zhang took a deep breath, and a nurse next to him wiped the bloodstains off his goggles. He gripped the scalpel tightly again.

But he didn't dare to strike again so easily, and instead subconsciously looked at Ye Zhen: "What's the next step?"

The original surgeon became an obedient "tool," while the original assistant became the true king of the surgery.

"Use the bone forceps to remove this small piece of the rib edge, exposing the pericardium."

"Insert the needle 3 millimeters to the left, being careful to avoid the phrenic nerve. That nerve is thinner than a hair; don't break it."

"The tissue is too brittle, and the child's nutritional status is too poor. Don't use tweezers; gently pry it open with a cotton swab."

"Establish extracorporeal circulation."

Ye Zhen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner through the loudspeaker.

Her instructions were terrifyingly precise. She controlled every depth of the incision, every stitch, and even the strength of the knot.

Dean Zhang became increasingly apprehensive as he worked, yet the more he did it, the more adept he became.

He felt as if he wasn't performing a life-or-death heart defect correction surgery, but rather being guided by a top master through introductory exercises. The fluidity of the experience, the almost supernatural ability to see through the tissue's structure, captivated him.

Time passed second by second.

In the observation room, the crowd that had been waiting to see the joke was now as quiet as if they had been collectively frozen in place.

Professor Wang had long forgotten his sarcasm; he was pressed against the glass, his breath splattering through it. He didn't even notice his notebook had fallen to the floor, muttering unconsciously, "How is this possible... this... can this really be done?"

This completely overturned his understanding of things he had for half his life!

"The last three stitches." Ye Zhen's voice was tinged with fatigue, but her voice remained as steady as a rock. "Teacher Zhang, mattress sutures with pads to prevent tearing."

Dean Zhang had already entered a state of "flow" and began to insert the needle as instructed.

"Cut the thread."

With the last bit of thread finally laid to rest.

Ye Zhen put down the equipment in her hand and glanced at the monitor.

The heart, which had been chronically cyanotic due to lack of oxygen, was now beating strongly as the deformity was corrected. The previously dark color of the myocardium had visibly turned rosy.

"Heart rate 85, blood pressure 110/70, oxygen saturation 98%." The anesthesiologist's voice trembled. "Normal...all normal!"

There was a two-second silence in the operating room.

Then, thunderous applause erupted!

That was a profound sense of awe and respect.

Dean Zhang took off his mask, his face covered in sweat, even his stubble was glistening with perspiration. He looked at the steady lifeline on the monitor, his eyes reddening. He abruptly turned to look at Ye Zhen, who was taking off her gloves.

The little girl's face was a bit pale, which was due to exhaustion from concentrating intensely, but her eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Xiao Ye." Dean Zhang's voice was hoarse, even choked with emotion.

He spoke to Ye Zhen in front of all the medical staff.

"Thanks."

As Gu Zheng watched this scene from the observation corridor, he couldn't suppress the proud smile on his lips.

He didn't understand those complicated terms, nor did he understand how difficult it was to stop the bleeding.

But he noticed the way the people around him were looking at him like he was a god.

That was his woman.

He doesn't need anyone's protection; with just a knife in his hand, he can make the world bow down.

"Let's go."

After washing her hands, Ye Zhen changed out of her blood-stained surgical gown and pushed open the heavy door to the operating room.

Outside the door, at the end of the corridor.

Nannan's parents knelt there like two statues, not moving for a full three hours since the surgery began.

Hearing the door open, the bearded man jerked his head up. His knees were numb from kneeling on the floor. He tried to stand up but tripped and fell, scrambling over as he went, his lips trembling like leaves in the wind: "Doctor... my daughter..."

Ye Zhen took off her mask, revealing her pretty but slightly tired face.

She didn't waste any words, simply nodding slightly: "It's alive."

Just two words.

The seven-foot-tall man suddenly slammed his head heavily against the cold terrazzo floor like a child, with three muffled thuds, and blood instantly stained his forehead.

"Thank you, living Buddha! Thank you, living Buddha!"

The cries were deafening; they were the catharsis of survivors.

Ye Zhen tried to help, but felt herself sway.

A warm, strong hand caught her waist just in time.

Gu Zheng had already stood behind her without her noticing, draping a warm coat over her shoulders to block the draft from the corridor.

"Tired?" He looked down, his voice so gentle it could melt your heart.

"Hmm, I'm a little hungry." Ye Zhen rarely showed a hint of weakness. "I want to eat hot pot."

"Alright, Quanjude or Donglaishun, it's up to my wife."

Gu Zheng embraced her and walked out, as if he were protecting some rare treasure.