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

At 2:40 pm on Wednesday, seven or eight resident trainees were scattered on the benches outside the demonstration room.

A table showing the order of defenses was posted on the wall, its corners firmly taped shut with transparent tape.

No one chatted idly; everyone was focused on their own tasks: some were quietly memorizing their drafts, others were repeatedly reviewing screenshots of medical cases saved on their phones, and still others had their rotation manuals spread out on their laps, carefully checking and signing each page, afraid of missing even the slightest detail.

When Lin Ye arrived, Ma Hao was leaning against the wall, staring intently at his manual.

The two blank pages of surgical records were finally filled with signatures. Director Wang's handwriting was bold and flowing, and the bright red official seal at the end was firmly pressed down. Ma Hao stared at these two pages for a long time, his eyes tense, as if afraid that the signature would disappear into thin air at any moment.

Lin Ye rested the folder under his arm and joked casually, "It's no use looking at it anymore, it won't get you another stamp."

"What do you know?" Ma Hao quickly closed the manual, but couldn't help lifting a corner again, a hint of barely perceptible relief hidden in his eyes. "I reprinted and revised those medical records twice, it took a long time, and Director Wang finally agreed to sign them. After he signed, he even said something."

Lin Ye turned his head to look at him.

Ma Hao lowered his voice, deliberately coarsening his tone, and imitated Director Wang's serious manner: "This time, at least it sounds like something a human would write."

A resident trainee next to me couldn't help but chuckle softly. He quickly stopped laughing, then buried his head in his books and continued memorizing. The atmosphere remained tense.

Ma Hao stuffed the manual back into his backpack, the brief moment of smugness on his face vanishing in an instant.

He nudged Lin Ye's arm with his elbow, his tone serious: "Don't just talk about those major cases during your defense. The magnetic beads case and the ophthalmology case are both quite good, and the dog bite vaccination case can also be discussed in detail."

"Mm," Lin Ye replied.

"I was so careless before. I always thought that cases that weren't upgraded were worthless and there was nothing to talk about." Ma Hao said with a hint of realization, "Now I understand that the logic behind cases that weren't upgraded needs to be explained more thoroughly. Why weren't they upgraded? What happens if there are complications and a follow-up visit is arranged? Who was on duty and treated the patient? Were the medical records clear? Otherwise, if something really happens, all you can come up with is a dry 'no special cases,' which is exactly the same as not writing anything at all."

After saying this, he calmed down, a hint of lingering fear in his eyes.

Lin Ye glanced at him: "Looks like Director Wang's scolding wasn't for nothing."

"Don't mention Director Wang." Ma Hao frowned instantly, his face full of resistance. "Now, whenever I hear the words 'intestinal sounds,' I reflexively want to stand at attention."

At that moment, the door to the demonstration room opened.

The resident trainee who had just finished his defense walked out with his documents, and the people waiting at the door immediately surrounded him, all looking nervous.

"What questions did they ask inside?"

The man casually placed the paper cup on the windowsill and lowered his voice to remind everyone, "Don't just memorize the case results. The teacher doesn't test your memorization; she asks about the basis for the treatment at the time, who reviewed it, and who was handed over to afterward. Director Zhou just asked me who the words 'continue to observe' were for, and I was completely stumped and couldn't answer a single question."

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire corridor fell silent. The soft rustling of turning pages disappeared, and a heavy pressure weighed on everyone's hearts.

Liu Zhenhua's voice drifted intermittently from the crack in the door. It was hard to hear clearly through the door, but a few keywords came through: "How long until the follow-up examination?" "Indications from superiors" "Records to be archived."

Jiang Peng, who was sitting by the window, had been engrossed in memorizing infection indicators. Upon hearing this, he slowly put down the paper in his hand, glanced at the closed door, and turned to ask Lin Ye, "Are you the third to defend your thesis?"

Lin Ye nodded.

"The seats are pretty close to the front," Jiang Peng said softly.

Ma Hao immediately chimed in, trying to reassure himself, "Being in the front is good; the sooner we get in, the sooner we'll be done and free."

Jiang Peng gave him a helpless sidelong glance: "Can't you have some decency?"

"I'm just trying to relieve his stress." Ma Hao joked, but his actions were quite practical. He carefully put the page that had popped out of Lin Ye's folder back into place and complained, "Don't lose it. You're the kind of person who can remember even the most complicated medical details perfectly, but paper documents are always a mess."

When the second resident came out, his ears were bright red and his face was tense, clearly he had been questioned quite a bit.

He called out towards the door, "Lin Ye, it's your turn."

Lin Ye stood up, clutching the folder in his arms, and strode forward. Just before entering the door, he subconsciously glanced back.

Ma Hao raised his hand to make a cheering gesture, but felt awkward and silly halfway through, so he changed it to a casual wave, which was messy and awkward.

The demonstration room was exceptionally simple, with no banners or any unnecessary formal decorations.

Behind the long table sat three directors: Liu Zhenhua, Zhou Min, and Qin Hai, with teachers from the Science and Education Department sitting nearby taking notes.

On the table were several printed medical records, a thermos, and a red pen that was almost out of ink. The air conditioner was set very low, the curtains were half-drawn, the light was dim, the projector screen was not lowered, and the white walls were covered with mottled marks from torn old tape.

Liu Zhenhua casually flipped through two pages of Lin Ye's information: "Sit down."

Lin Ye gently placed the folder on the table, then sat down. The chair legs rubbed against the cool floor tiles, making a very soft scraping sound that was particularly clear in the quiet classroom.

Without a word of pleasantries, Liu Zhenhua pointed directly at one of the case files, his tone calm yet carrying a scrutinizing pressure: "You've written several cases in your materials. Let's start with Zhou Qiming, the case with the shadow in his left eye. Don't go into the final result; talk about everything you saw at the triage desk and all the information you gathered."

"He was 26 years old. When he came in, he thought he had eye strain. His phone still had the appointment page for tomorrow's outpatient visit. Around 10:40, a patch of darkness suddenly appeared in the lower field of vision of his left eye. The shadow was fixed and rubbing his eye did not relieve it. He did not have eye pain, headache, nausea, or vomiting. A simple physical examination was conducted on-site. His limbs moved normally and he spoke clearly. He had myopia of over 600 degrees and had lifted heavy objects the day before."

Zhou Min looked up at him: "What can you deduce from this alone?"

"I can't give a direct diagnosis," Lin Ye replied crisply. "But I can confirm that in this situation, we can't let him go home and sleep. We have to wait until the outpatient clinic the next day. The triage desk can't examine the fundus. All I can do is tell him to stop rubbing his eyes, ask him about the onset time, the location of the dark shadow, whether he has a headache, nausea, or any abnormalities in his hands, feet, or speech, and then report to Director Qin to call the ophthalmologist on duty."

Liu Zhenhua repeatedly fastened and uncapped the red pen, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze fixed on him: "How did you communicate with the patient back then?"

"I told him that a piece of something was suddenly missing from the front of one eye, and that this couldn't wait until tomorrow." Lin Ye paused briefly. "I didn't scare him by saying he would go blind, nor did I mention the diagnosis beforehand. He was already starting to panic at that point. The ophthalmologist hadn't even checked his fundus yet. If I made anything too definitive, it would only make him more anxious."

Qin Hai leaned back in his chair, remaining silent throughout without interrupting, only gently pushing the page of medical records forward.

Liu Zhenhua's finger remained pressed on the paper as he continued to press, "How was the subsequent ophthalmological care handled?"