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

I had only written half a line of the debriefing on the mass poisoning incident when the siren of an ambulance blared into the emergency room; the second wave of patients had arrived.

This time, it wasn't just a table of night market customers.

It was a mix of night market vendors, helpers, onlookers, and a few customers who had gone home and started vomiting. The emergency room lobby was instantly filled with a cacophony of noise, as if hit by a tidal wave.

"Doctor, I ate at that barbecue place too!"

My child vomited three times!

"Was that person over there poisoned by pesticides? Could we get poisoned too?"

Panic spread faster than the disease itself.

Qin Hai slammed the pen he was half-holding down onto the nurses' station, his face so dark it could drip water: "Activate the emergency response plan for mass incidents. Move the triage area out, set up the mild cases area in the infusion hall, and only admit patients from the red zone to the emergency room."

Nurse Zhao grabbed the walkie-talkie and shouted for people to move the isolation belts. Before she finished speaking, she had already rushed to the entrance of the lobby.

Ma Hao, clutching a stack of triage labels, squatted by the triage desk, sticking them onto his wrists. Jiang Peng, holding a thermometer and electronic blood pressure monitor, weaved through the crowd with lightning speed. Sun Zhiqiang's hand hadn't even stopped dialing the second-line duty phone, while Qin Hai had already dialed the main duty number.

The rows of chairs in the infusion hall were temporarily moved to the wall, and the yellow and green zones were clearly separated by bright yellow and red isolation tape. Nurses stuck handwritten numbers on patients' sleeves, and security guards stood guard at the emergency room door, their elbows red from being bumped by the jostling family members.

Emergency room staff are never afraid of being busy.

What I fear is that everyone will be so busy that all they can think of is poisoning.

Lin Ye was assigned to the front of the triage area.

He was not the commander.

Qin Hai only gave him one specific task: "Observe different kinds of people."

Those six words carry more weight than any authorization.

A draft of rain was blowing through the emergency room entrance, and the tiled floor was soaked in less than two minutes, making it very slippery to walk on.

Lin Ye scanned the patients in front of him one by one. Most of them had symptoms of gastroenteritis, such as vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal pain, but their vital signs were stable. Some people were banging on the table and shouting, some were taking pictures with their phones, and some were trying to squeeze into the emergency room, saying that they were about to die.

His triage pen never stopped, and he asked only short questions: How many times have you vomited? How many times have you had diarrhea? Do you have a fever? Do you have chest tightness? Are you conscious? Have you eaten anything other than barbecue? His throat became hoarse and sore from asking so many questions, so Nurse Zhao handed him an opened bottle of mineral water. He took a sip, his hand still scribbling on the triage form.

He raised his hand, signaling Ma Hao to lead those who were fine to the mild case area: "Infusion, blood draw, observation."

"And what about me?" a middle-aged man in a gray T-shirt cried out, clutching his stomach. "I'm in so much pain I can barely stand!"

Lin Ye glanced at his face and the sweat on his forehead, then at the blood pressure readings on the monitor—he still had the energy to shout so loudly, so he wasn't in the red zone yet: "Yellow zone, check his blood pressure and blood sugar first."

The man, cursing and swearing, was dragged away by Ma Hao.

A few minutes later, an elderly woman was helped in by her daughter. She said she had also eaten the barbecue from that restaurant. She didn't vomit, but felt suffocated. She kept pressing her chest as soon as she sat down.

Her daughter, supporting her, tried to comfort her, saying, "Mom, don't scare yourself. Everyone else is throwing up, why are you experiencing chest tightness? It must be from the tension of squeezing out earlier!"

Lin Ye didn't say anything, but simply pushed the electrocardiograph machine in Jiang Peng's hand toward the old man.

Jiang Peng was taken aback: "Not food poisoning?"

"Her complaint is incorrect."

The electrocardiogram showed atrial fibrillation with a rapid ventricular rate, and blood pressure dropped to 90/55.

The cardiologist on duty arrived in ten minutes.

Ten minutes later, a little boy was brought in by his father, who said he had a stomachache after eating barbecue.

Lin Ye stared at his gait—his back was constantly hunched over, he dared not straighten up. He squatted down, his fingertips pressing on the child's lower right abdomen: "Does the pain radiate throughout your entire stomach, or is it most painful here?"

The child slowly touched his fingertip with his little finger.

After a surgical consultation, appendicitis was diagnosed.

Ma Hao leaned closer and whispered, "Are they here to join in the fun?"

Lin Ye shook his head and put a checkmark in the column for non-homologous cases: "It was covered up by a mass incident."

The busier the emergency room is, the easier it is to cram everyone into the same diagnostic basket. What he has to do is pick out the one that doesn't fit the bill.

At four o'clock in the morning, order was finally restored in the emergency room lobby.

There are three people in the red zone, twelve in the yellow zone, and more than twenty in the green zone.

Outside the isolation zone, some people were still complaining about the long wait. Inside the isolation zone, the nurses had already changed their gloves three times and the floor had been mopped three times, but the faint, lingering sour smell of vomit still hung in the air.

Deng Jun, who suffered organophosphate poisoning, has been transferred to the intensive care unit for further treatment. Most of the other patients with food poisoning from the night market are in stable condition. The elderly man with atrial fibrillation has been taken to the cardiology department, and the boy with appendicitis has been transferred to the general surgery department for surgery.

Qin Hai stood at the edge of the temporary triage area, his voice hoarse: "Each group, report your numbers."

Nurse Zhao flipped through the register in her hand: "Three people in the red zone of the emergency room, temporarily stable."

Sun Zhiqiang tapped the medical record folder in the yellow zone: "All twelve people in the yellow zone are receiving intravenous fluids. Their electrolyte levels will be checked later."

Ma Hao held up the registration board for the green zone: "Twenty-six people registered in the green zone, five people signed to leave the hospital, and all the records are complete."

Jiang Peng pointed to the specialist transfer register: "Two patients who were not food poisoning have been transferred to the corresponding specialists, and the handover records have been signed."

Qin Hai looked at Lin Ye.

Lin Ye handed over the crumpled paper in his hand, his fingertips still stained with the ink from the last press: "The list of suspected food poisoning cases from the same source is here. Cases from different sources are listed separately, and the timeline is attached at the end."

Qin Hai took it and glanced at it. The handwriting was still crooked, but the categories were clearly marked, and it was easy to see what each column was.

"OK."

As soon as the word was uttered, the people around who had been busy half the night quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

Just then, footsteps came from the other end of the corridor; Liu Zhenhua had arrived.

He had clearly just been woken up from bed by the duty officer; his glasses were askew, and one of his coat buttons was fastened incorrectly. He glanced at the isolation barriers, colorful grading labels, and still-wet footprints on the floor in the lobby, and without bothering Lin Ye, his first question was: "How's the situation now?"

Qin Hai handed him the triage form: "It's mainly a cluster of gastroenteritis, mixed with one case of organophosphate poisoning. We also screened out one case of atrial fibrillation and one case of appendicitis. There have been no deaths so far."

After checking his watch, Liu Zhenhua glanced around at everyone present and asked, "Who conducted the initial screening?"

Qin Hai shoved the pen in his hand into his white coat pocket: "Emergency Department Staff."

Nurse Zhao, wiping the iodine off her hands, casually added, "Lin Ye is specifically in charge of screening for different cases."

Liu Zhenhua's gaze fell on Lin Ye, but this time he didn't frown.

"Please write a more detailed report."

Lin Ye nodded: "Yes."

Liu Zhenhua paused, then added, "Give me a copy when you're done. I need to hand it in to the department."

Qin Hai raised an eyebrow: "Praise or rectification?"

Liu Zhenhua pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down to the bridge of his nose, and didn't answer directly: "It depends on how well you write it."

Nurse Zhao rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Old administrative rhetoric."

Lin Ye lowered his head to organize the triage form in his hand. His fingers ached from writing, and his eyes were sore he could barely keep them open, but his mind was very clear.

That night, he didn't just wake up one department head.

He put the entire emergency room on high alert.