American Medicine: I survived the death knell thanks to the devil.

Every day Dawson lay in the ICU, Grant was the de facto leader of the New York City Council.

The Speaker's office schedule, meetings, and voting intentions all passed through his hands.

Power, once you start using it, becomes something you hold in your hands.

Lynn kept this observation to himself, his face remaining expressionless.

"He's recovering well so far, but it was a major open-chest surgery after all, so the exact discharge date will depend on how well he's weaned off the ventilator and his recovery progresses. It can't be rushed."

Grant nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

He stood by the Speaker's bedside for about two minutes, looking down at the face wearing an oxygen mask.

Then he turned to Lynn, his tone suddenly becoming more relaxed.

"By the way, Dr. Lin. The hospital is holding a press conference tomorrow morning to report on the Speaker's surgery and recovery."

Lynn looked up.

A faint smile played on Grant's lips.

"You know, in these kinds of situations, when facing the media, you need to have a respectable name."

He paused for a moment.

"Dr. Cabot will represent the medical team at the event."

He was referring to Julian.

Lynn understood what he meant.

Grant couldn't possibly be unaware of what happened in the operating room that day.

He knew exactly who the real surgeon was.

I also know that the person standing in front of the camera tomorrow won't be that one.

So he made a special trip to talk about this.

I want to see how this young Chinese-American doctor will react after hearing this.

Grant is watching a play.

"understood."

Lynn said, "Thank you for letting me know."

His tone was flat and indifferent, as if he had only heard that the weather would be sunny tomorrow.

Grant looked at him for two seconds.

In those two seconds, Lynn sensed that the other person was reassessing him.

Then Grant smiled.

This time, the laugh contained something more than before.

It's like an old hunter discovering a rather unusual prey in the forest.

"Dr. Lin, you're an interesting person."

After saying that, Grant turned and walked out of the ICU.

After the door closed, Lynn picked up the cup of coffee Victoria had left at the nurses' station and took a sip.

It's still warm.

The next day.

Metropolitan Public Hospital, first floor lobby.

10:00 AM.

This hall, which is usually used to display donor plaques and expired health brochures, has been temporarily converted into a press conference room today.

Two rows of folding chairs, a long table covered with a blue tablecloth, three microphones, and a backdrop with the hospital logo printed on it.

The backdrop was made overnight, and the logo in the lower right corner is printed two centimeters off-center.

No one cares.

More than forty reporters had already crowded into the hall, with cameras and microphones filling the aisles.

The cable news station's broadcast van was parked at the entrance, with thick black cables running from the gate all the way to the front of the stage.

The assassination attempt on the New York City Council Speaker, followed by a successful surgery, was enough news to get all the local media out in force.

Lynn stood in the back corner.

He was holding a cup of hand-drip coffee, which he had specially brewed for himself for this great show.

The beans I used were still Julian's bag of Geisha.

Cassie stood next to him, rubbing his hands together incessantly.

She wasn't wearing a white lab coat, but rather an oversized hoodie, the hood pulled low, making her look like a mouse that had wandered into a cat show.

The press conference has begun.

Dean Wilson spoke first.

His voice was deep and steady, and every pause was perfectly timed.

"...Metropolitan Hospitals always prioritize saving lives. In response to this emergency, our medical team activated a Level 1 trauma response immediately..."

He talked for three minutes without saying anything substantial.

But the reporters present were all taking notes diligently.

Because at hospital press conferences in the United States, the function of the hospital director's speech is never to convey information, but to establish the narrative tone.

Next, the public relations manager read out the press release.

A middle-aged white woman, wearing a business suit and pearl earrings, read her prepared statement at a pace precise to 120 words per minute.

"...Under the leadership of Dr. Julian Cabot, the cardiothoracic surgery team successfully performed a highly complex emergency thoracotomy, during which a ruptured branch of the pulmonary artery was discovered and repaired."

"The Speaker's vital signs are currently stable, and all indicators continue to improve..."

Julian sat on the platform.

Dark blue suit, white shirt, no tie.

It's exactly the same as the one I hung up in the walk-in closet last night.

His posture was perfect, with his back straight, his hands naturally folded on the table, and his eyes looking straight ahead.

The camera was pointed at him.

He knew that from this moment on, his face would appear on all local news channels in New York during the evening hours.

Tomorrow morning, the New York Times city edition will most likely use his photo.

In another week, several medical journals will also follow up with reports.

A 27-year-old doctor performed surgery that saved the city council speaker's life.

This story is too perfect.

Young, handsome, from a prestigious family, and with superb medical skills—the media's favorite narrative template.

All he had to do was sit there, smile, nod, and answer the few questions he had prepared in advance.

He had copied the answers on the card in his pocket last night and had already memorized them.

The press release has been read.

The Q&A session with reporters has begun.

The first question came from NY 1: "How is the Speaker's recovery progressing? When is he expected to be discharged from the hospital?"

This was the response from the public relations manager. It was standard wording, containing no useful information.

The second question comes from the New York Daily News: "What was the biggest challenge during the surgery?"

This problem was handed over to Julian.

He picked up the microphone.

"The biggest challenge is the location of the bleeding points."

It was exactly the same as the third question prepared on the card.

"The pulmonary artery branch tear is located deep in the mediastinum, and it is difficult to expose it directly through conventional surgical approaches. Exploration and suturing must be completed in an extremely limited space."

The answer was flawless.

Because every word in those words is true.

He simply omitted a crucial piece of information: he wasn't the one who performed these operations.

As Julian said this, his right hand twitched slightly under the table.

Last night, he watched the video countless times. The first thing Lynn did when he reached into the mediastinum with his right hand was to slightly curl his fingers and use his fingertips to sense the tissue layers.

His hand unconsciously mimicked that gesture.

Then he realized what he was doing and loosened his grip.

The third question.

The fourth question.

It's all just routine.

With each answer, Julian felt as if a thorn was stuck in his throat.

It's so congested.

Then, a fifth hand was raised.

Back row, on the left.

A thin woman.

She had dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, wore no makeup, and was dressed in a faded khaki trench coat. She held a voice recorder in her hand and had no media organization badge around her neck.

Freelance writer.

The public relations manager hesitated for a second.

According to the procedure, independent journalists without institutional endorsement are usually ranked last, or even skipped altogether.

However, with dozens of cameras broadcasting live, she couldn't too obviously filter the questioners.

"Speaking."

The female reporter stood up.

"Dr. Cabot, I've obtained a document."

Her voice wasn't loud, but her pronunciation was very clear.

"The names of the attending physicians in the operating room sign-in records and post-operative briefings are inconsistent with those in today's press release. Could you please provide a response?"