Chapter 239 - 160: I Don’t Like You, But I Still Approve

Chapter 239: Chapter 160: I Don’t Like You, But I Still Approve

Once outside.

Jiang He received a notice from his department. The newly appointed deputy dean, Zhang Sui, wanted to see him.

When he arrived at the office and saw Zhang Sui, he found the man was just as he remembered.

His white coat, shirt, tie, and hair were all impeccably neat.

The documents on his desk were also neatly arranged, and even the handle of his water cup had to be pointing at a specific angle.

His name might have had the character "Sui" in it, implying "casual," but he was clearly anything but. It was a classic case of late-stage OCD.

"Dean Zhang, you wanted to see me," Jiang He said, stepping forward with a calm tone.

Zhang Sui frowned, his gaze fixed on Jiang He.

’Twenty-one years old.’

’Too young.’

In Zhang Sui’s view, a medical student of this age should be studying in school or tailing their supervising doctor and writing case files.

Not overstepping their authority to triage patients in the emergency room, and most certainly not standing at an operating table during surgery.

’If something went wrong, who could cover for him?’

Zhang Sui was silent for a moment before speaking. "Jiang He, I’ve read your paper. To achieve such an academic accomplishment at your age, you have the right to be proud."

"Thank you, Dean Zhang."

"But that’s just academia." Zhang Sui’s tone changed. "Clinical practice and academia are two entirely different things. I asked you here today because there’s something I need to tell you."

Zhang Sui pulled a file from his side and tossed it into the center of the desk.

It was the emergency rescue report from the night of the Ring City Expressway car crash.

"I’ve reviewed all the records from that day. Without a medical license, you directly triaged critical patients in the red-tag area. Afterward, you entered an operating room and participated in, and even led, Wu Wanning’s resuscitation."

"I know Dean Chen considers you a hero. The hospital leadership also praised your actions and made an exception to grant you your medical license. Therefore, I won’t pursue what happened in the past."

"But I need to tell you this, Jiang He."

"The reason the modern medical system has been able to reduce the mortality rate to what it is today isn’t because of a flash of genius from some prodigy, nor is it because of a single act of heroism that turns the tide. It relies on SOPs—on strict rules and regulations."

"Behind every single medical rule are countless bloody lessons. You overstepped your authority in the emergency room. If you had made one wrong judgment, who would have taken responsibility? Zhao Yumin, who vouched for you? Or your teacher, Yang Xu?"

"If this were in another country, no matter how many people you saved that night, the person who vouched for you would be banned from practicing medicine for life, and the hospital would face astronomical lawsuits and fines. So, my demand is simple: Starting today, at Affiliated Hospital No. 1, you will drop that personal heroism of yours. You’re a resident, so do a resident’s work. Everything must be done strictly according to the rules, regulations, and your level of authority. Understood?"

Having said his piece, Zhang Sui braced himself for an argument.

After all, young men were hot-blooded. He had just performed a great service and was being praised by everyone in the hospital. Now that he was being lectured, he was bound to feel resentful.

Zhang Sui knew Jiang He would hate him for this.

But he didn’t care. He had principles he stood by.

However, to Zhang Sui’s surprise, Jiang He simply nodded.

"Dean Zhang, you’re right. Rules and regulations are the bottom line for medical safety. The situation that night was an extreme exception, and I’m aware of the risks involved. From now on, I will act within the rules and the limits of my position. I will not cross any lines. You can rest assured."

This reaction, however, made Zhang Sui’s frown deepen.

Jiang He’s response was indeed unexpected.

But he felt no sense of gratification. Instead, a feeling of disgust welled up inside him...

’This kid... He’s too slick.’

’How can a twenty-one-year-old be so polished?’

’This kind of social maneuvering—never arguing, always agreeing with superiors, completely hiding one’s true feelings... ’

It made Zhang Sui extremely uncomfortable.

He recalled an incident from when he was pursuing his doctorate in the United States.

A laboratory at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine.

At the time, he was just a diligent PhD student who kept his head down and worked hard. He had taken on a complex project on cancer-targeting receptors.

For that project, Zhang Sui had spent sixteen hours a day in the lab for eight straight months, cultivating cell cultures, running Western Blots, and recording tens of thousands of tedious data points. He hadn’t even taken a break for Christmas.

There was another Chinese international student from the same cohort in the lab back then, named Wang Qian.

Wang Qian was the complete opposite of Zhang Sui. He didn’t really understand the specific experimental procedures, but his English was excellent, and he was a smooth operator.

He bought his American advisor coffee every day and hobnobbed with all the influential figures.

Zhang Sui was a guileless man. He felt that since they were both compatriots, and since Wang Qian was always calling him "Brother Zhang" and helped out with things like formatting documents, he came to see him as a good brother.

When the project was nearing completion and it was time to submit to *The Lancet*...

Wang Qian volunteered to help Zhang Sui prepare the initial English draft.

Without a second thought, Zhang Sui handed over all his data and core findings.

Two weeks later, the paper was submitted.

On the author list, Zhang Sui saw that Wang Qian was the first author, while he—the one who had done 90% of the core work—was listed as the second author.

He furiously stormed into his advisor’s office to demand an explanation.

The advisor shrugged and said that Wang Qian had presented him with the overall concept for the project and had been the lead author on the paper.

In Western academia, the "idea" and the "presentation" are just as important.

Zhang Sui went to confront Wang Qian.

Zhang Sui would never forget the look on Wang Qian’s face.

"Brother Zhang, you’re right. You did all the experiments, you worked the hardest. But those are the advisor’s rules, there’s nothing I can do. We have a long future ahead of us. I’ll definitely let you have first author next time. Don’t let something like this create bad blood between us."

That attitude was strikingly similar to the one Jiang He had just displayed.

What Zhang Sui hated most were people who played the game of social politics with masterful skill.

In clinical medicine, that kind of personality was extremely dangerous.

Because when people like that encountered a medical incident, their first reaction was never to solve the problem, but to figure out how to shift the blame...

Zhang Sui looked at Jiang He, his eyes growing cold.

"Jiang He, I don’t need your assurances. I’ll judge you by your actions. You can go."

Jiang He noticed the shift in Zhang Sui’s attitude.

’Someone with Zhang Sui’s personality would probably misunderstand my response.’

But Jiang He had no intention of explaining himself. He had lived two lifetimes and was long past the age of needing to justify himself to others.

"Alright, Dean Zhang. I’ll be heading back to my department."

Jiang He turned and walked toward the door.

"Jiang He."

Zhang Sui’s voice suddenly called out from behind him.

Jiang He stopped and half-turned. "Is there something else, Dean Zhang?"

Zhang Sui twirled the pen in his hand once, then stopped.

"From a procedural standpoint, I firmly oppose what you did that day."

"If I had been the attending in charge, I would have rather let the patients go through the standard referral process than allow a student without a medical license to step into the OR. Once you make an exception like that, there’s no end to the trouble it can cause."

"But, on a personal level... I recognize that you saved a lot of people that night. You did a good job. Right, you can go."

Jiang He blinked, amused.

’This Deputy Dean is a pretty funny guy.’

’He already dislikes me, but he still felt the need to praise me.’

’And to praise me in such a grudging, standoffish way... ’

’Hey Dean, being a tsundere is totally outdated, you know?’

Jiang He smiled and replied:

"Yes, thank you, Dean."

...

After leaving the Deputy Dean’s office.

Meng Shiyu was furtively peeking in his direction.

The moment he saw Jiang He emerge, he quickly jogged over.

"Teacher Jiang, have some water." Meng Shiyu handed him a bottle of water.

Jiang He took the water. "Thanks, but you really don’t have to do this. Let’s just be equals. No need to feel pressured, okay?"

Hearing this, Meng Shiyu’s heart swelled with emotion once again.

Top-tier hospitals in China were said to have a rigid hierarchy.

Residents were treated like servants by their attendings.

New doctors who made the slightest mistake would get chewed out mercilessly, and it was common for them to be given a hard time by their seniors.

It was normal to be sent to fetch water, buy betel nuts, or even run to the dry cleaners.

And if you dared to complain? They’d shut you down with "It’s the rules."

But Jiang He?

Jiang He was too good to him.

He had none of that nasty tradition some senior doctors had of hazing newcomers.

He not only answered his questions patiently but also went out of his way to save him from embarrassment.

This level of equality and respect felt almost surreal to Meng Shiyu.

Meng Shiyu was well aware of his own standing.

Other than his credentials from Xiangya, he had nothing of value for Jiang He to exploit.

So, there could only be one conclusion: Jiang He was simply a good person, someone who genuinely respected every new doctor who was trying their best.

’So... should I tell him what I just overheard?’

Meng Shiyu hesitated.

"Let’s go."

Jiang He didn’t notice anything unusual and said as they walked, "About that task for bed seven I mentioned earlier, I’ll give you a demonstration. Otherwise, I’m worried you won’t be sure what to do tomorrow."

Meng Shiyu was taken aback. "What?"

Jiang He said, "Bed seven, conservative treatment for liver trauma. The most crucial part is the abdominal drainage tube. Tomorrow, when you change the dressing, you must be careful when removing the gauze."

"Use your left hand with toothless forceps to press down on the skin at the base of the drainage tube, and with your right hand, use forceps to grip the old gauze. Pull it up slowly, following the direction of the tube. Never tear it sideways. During the conservative treatment phase for liver trauma, the wound hasn’t fully organized yet. If you displace that tube, you could re-puncture the liver capsule and trigger a secondary massive hemorrhage."

"Then there’s disinfection."

"With an iodine-soaked cotton ball, start at the base of the drainage tube and disinfect in outward-spiraling circles. Make sure the diameter is wide enough. Remember, a cotton ball that has touched the outer area must absolutely not touch the base of the tube again. The biggest fear with liver trauma is a retrograde infection."

Jiang He explained in extreme detail, breaking down every potential pitfall and spoon-feeding them to Meng Shiyu.

As Meng Shiyu listened, his mind was reeling.

This was more than just not hazing him; Jiang He was teaching him real, practical skills.

Watching Jiang He turn and continue walking toward the department, Meng Shiyu stopped in his tracks.

He hesitated again and again.

’This is about choosing a side.’

’As a new doctor, the smartest play would be to keep my head down, know nothing, and offend no one.’

’If I tell Jiang He, I’ll be firmly on his side, but I’ll also risk offending someone higher up.’

But...

Meng Shiyu looked at Jiang He’s retreating back.

’The man who put aside his pride to patiently teach him how to change a dressing and prevent a patient from bleeding out...’

Meng Shiyu gritted his teeth and finally made his decision.

"Wait, Teacher Jiang."

Jiang He looked back. "Hm? What’s wrong?"

Meng Shiyu quickly walked to Jiang He’s side, glanced around nervously, and asked, "Teacher, is there anywhere in the hospital we can talk privately?"

Seeing his expression, Jiang He could tell something was definitely up.

Although he didn’t know what it was about, he was willing to play along.

"If it’s just us, any empty conference room will do. That one over there is usually free."

Meng Shiyu nodded. "Okay, let’s go talk in the conference room."

"Alright, follow me."

Jiang He led Meng Shiyu to a small conference room at the end of the hallway.

Closing the door, Jiang He asked, "Alright, spill it. What’s with all the secrecy?"

Meng Shiyu took a deep breath and said, "Teacher, did you know that someone in the hospital is planning to deliberately target you?"

Jiang He’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t. Who?"

Meng Shiyu said cautiously, "The director of the Medical Affairs Department, Ma Huaide."

Jiang He frowned. "?"