When I'm on the night shift, all the department heads can't sleep.

When Qin Hai asked that question, Lin Ye's words, "There are currently no signs of acute abdominal pain, but we need to observe him closely," caught in his throat.

This statement is fine to write in the observation record, but when it's actually presented to parents who have been up most of the night and whose eyes are bloodshot, it's as if nothing was said.

As soon as the two reached the observation bed, the child's father approached them: "Doctor, we don't know anything about these things. We're just worried because our child is so listless and keeps saying he's thirsty. If we really have to have surgery, could we do it sooner? We don't want him to suffer so much pain before we start.

The child nestled in his mother's arms, his lips dry and chapped, whimpering softly that he was thirsty. His mother took a damp cotton swab and wiped his lips, her eyes red like a rabbit's. She didn't say a word, just watched Lin Ye and Qin Hai.

"Brother, this isn't just dragging things out and not giving me treatment."

"Dr. Liu just reviewed the X-rays, and Director Qin is here too. The child's abdomen is still soft, and there's no rectal bleeding yet, so it's not time to perform surgery immediately. But we're not going to leave it untreated either."

Lin Ye pointed to the clock on the wall: "That's why we have to stay at the hospital to keep an eye on it. We'll take another picture every two hours to see if the bead has moved down."

If the bead doesn't move, or if the child's symptoms worsen, the nurses' station has the general surgery phone number, and we'll contact them immediately.

The child's father looked down at the child on the bed, and after a long while, he nodded.

Qin Hai stood to the side without saying a word, only nodding to Lin Ye.

Just as the two turned back to the triage desk, they heard Ma Hao yell, nearly dropping his phone.

"Damn, does Old Wang have a grudge against me?" He held up his phone to show Lin Ye. On the screen were WeChat messages from his colleagues at the surgical nursing station, one voice message after another. "I've submitted all my medical records! He looked through my medical records and said that I only wrote 'soft abdomen with no tenderness' for my postoperative abdominal signs, which was too perfunctory."

"Make sure I get a clear report of whether there's any oozing from the incision, rebound tenderness, and whether the bowel sounds are normal. Once you've completed that, print it out again and send it back; otherwise, don't expect to get it until you get your signature."

Ma Hao squatted on the chair, flipping through the medical records saved on his phone, muttering to himself, "It's just an appendectomy, I'm almost discharged, why is he nitpicking like this? I think he's deliberately targeting me."

He suddenly stopped speaking and looked up at the observation bed—he had heard clearly what Lin Ye had just said to the family.

Ma Hao stopped complaining, put his phone away, took out a pen and a crumpled notebook from his white coat pocket, and started filling in the medical history page.

Qin Hai walked over and gently tapped the notebook in his hand with his fingertips. The sound was soft enough for both of them to hear: "If you omit a sentence in the medical record, the doctors and nurses who take over later will have one less eye to judge the patient's condition."

What you consider nonsense, becomes the basis for making decisions when the patient's condition worsens.

Ma Hao blushed slightly, scratched his head, said "Oh," and buried his head in his writing, no longer joking around.

Nurse Zhao carried the treatment tray from the observation area, handed a new wet cotton swab to the child's mother, and adjusted the IV drip rate for the elderly man in bed 3. As she passed the triage desk, she tapped the counter: "Tell the family that if the child is in a lot of pain, don't try to tough it out. Just press the bell; there's no need to run over and call. If the adults want water, the tea room is around the corner. Be careful not to burn yourself when you get the water."

She glanced at the half-open door of the break room behind the nurses' station: "The braised beef I brought earlier is still in the small break room. Remember to heat it up and eat it after this busy period is over, don't forget about it when you're busy until the middle of the night."

"Understood, Sister Zhao," Ma Hao replied without looking up, his pen scribbling rapidly in his notebook.

Lin Ye leaned against the triage desk and added the explanation he had just given to the family members to the observation record.

I was only halfway through writing when a man in a plaid shirt, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, wearing black-rimmed glasses, walked in through the door.

He rubbed his left eye with one hand and held his phone in the other, scrolling through the registration page. He walked to the triage desk and tapped on the counter.

"Nurse, do you still have ophthalmology appointments available for tomorrow?"

He yawned, his eyes bloodshot. "I've been working overtime for a week straight, staring at the computer and my phone all day. My eyes are killing me, they're so dry. I'm thinking of getting some eye drops tomorrow."

Nurse Zhao looked up at him and asked, "Does your eye hurt now? If it hurts, you can see it now; you don't need to wait until tomorrow."

"It doesn't hurt, it's just tiring." The man rubbed his left eye hard again. "Oh right, when I was working overtime just now, a dark patch suddenly appeared in my left eye, like there was a dark shadow blocking my view. I rubbed it for a long time but couldn't get it out. I guess it's eye strain from looking at the screen for too long."

I was planning to wait until tomorrow to see a doctor, but I happened to be passing by the hospital so I came in to ask if there were any quick ways to relieve the pain. Would it be okay if I applied a warm compress at home?

The man was still looking down at the registration page, his hand rubbing his eyes without stopping, looking completely unconcerned, clearly thinking he was just tired from staying up too late.

Lin Ye put down his pen, pointed to the examination chair next to him, and said in a lower voice, "Sit down first, and don't rub your eyes."

The man paused, his hand still hovering near his eye socket: "I haven't registered yet."

"Please sit down."

Lin Ye pulled the examination chair out halfway, his gaze falling on the man's constantly blinking left eye: "Which eye is black? One eye or both? Now, how many fingers do you see on my fingers?"

The man then turned off his phone screen, covered his right eye with his hand, and squinted at it with his left eye for a long time.

"You can see the upper half of your finger, but the lower half is blocked by something. It's not completely black, or a piece is missing."

"When did it start? Did the money come in gradually, or all at once?"

"It just came out while I was working overtime." The man said, and then tried to rub it again, but Lin Ye glanced at him and his hand stopped in mid-air. "I thought rubbing it would be fine."

Nurse Zhao had already taken out a blindfold from the drawer: "Don't stand, sit down first."

Lin Ye glanced at the clock on the wall, then at the man.

He pushed the registration book aside and said, "Sister Zhao, tell Director Qin first, and also prepare the ophthalmology on-call phone."