Chapter 260 - 172: The Unfeeling Surgical Machine

Chapter 260: Chapter 172: The Unfeeling Surgical Machine

The Vice President’s office.

On Zhang Sui’s desk sat two documents.

One was a notice of suspension and investigation for Ma Huaide and other involved personnel.

The other was a copy of the surgical record for Jiang He’s emergency appendectomy.

Jiang He’s file was placed on top of Ma Huaide’s.

’As if to say: "Feeling the pressure, buddy?"’

Zhang Sui’s thoughts were a tangled mess.

Graft, exploiting junior staff... Ma Huaide was a cancer that needed to be excised sooner or later.

What he was truly concerned about was Jiang He.

Overstepping his authority to save lives on the night of the car crash, bypassing the chain of command to report the virus sequencing, refusing to correct errors in the medical records...

From the perspective of a hospital’s standard operating procedures, Jiang He was an out-and-out troublemaker.

But what were the results?

Zero fatalities in the car crash, and he became a hero.

He refused to amend the medical records, and the entire hospital’s core staff stood up for him.

Even in the appendectomy he’d stepped in to perform yesterday afternoon, he had faced a sudden, massive hemorrhage in an inflamed blind spot. Yet, he resolved the crisis in under a minute using a blind-field ligation technique that most attending physicians couldn’t even perform.

Zhang Sui opened the surgical record once more.

The signature was Zhao Yumin’s, but the supplementary notes truthfully recorded the emergency procedures Jiang He had taken.

Zhang Sui had always firmly believed that medical rules and regulations were established to preserve the bottom line of patient safety.

But Jiang He, who broke all the rules, still managed to perform his duties to perfection.

’Was I wrong?’

’Was I too extreme?’

Zhang Sui stood up and picked up the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair.

He had no answer.

...

At 8:00 PM, Zhang Sui drove into an upscale residential complex.

Just as he parked, his phone rang.

It was a call from Zhao Lan, his ex-wife.

Zhang Sui: "Hello."

"Did you send this month’s child support?"

"Yes, I transferred it this morning."

"It was five thousand too much. The court ordered eight thousand, but you sent thirteen thousand. I’ve already returned the extra money to your account."

"Next week is Jiaqi’s birthday. The five thousand was for her gift. You don’t have to return it."

"She wanted a DSLR camera. I’ve already bought it. The money has been returned, so check your account. Also, next month I have to take my department to an academic conference in Germany for about two weeks. During that time, Jiaqi will have to stay with you."

"Alright, I’ll go pick her up."

"Don’t bother, she’s already at your place. She took a cab. My flight is tomorrow morning. You two need to communicate. Don’t end up at the police station like last time. That’s all."

BEEP... BEEP...

The line went dead.

Both of them had been perfectly composed, without a single wasted word.

Nearly twenty years of marriage had, after countless arguments, finally settled into a calm so profound they couldn’t even be bothered to express hatred.

’Perhaps this was the sorrow of a dead heart.’

Zhang Sui took the elevator to the sixteenth floor.

As soon as he stepped out, he saw his daughter, Zhang Jiaqi, squatting by his front door.

She was seventeen this year, a junior in high school.

Zhang Sui’s brow furrowed instantly.

His daughter was wearing a baggy, black graphic t-shirt, ripped jeans, and an ostentatious metal chain hanging from her waist.

Her heavy, side-swept bangs almost covered her left eye, and the visible right eye was lined with thick, dark eyeliner.

She had three studs in her ear and a pair of bulky white headphones around her neck, listening to Xu Song’s "Funeral of Roses."

It was the typical look of a rebellious teenage girl from 2008—the whole "non-mainstream" punk aesthetic.

Zhang Jiaqi chewed her gum, glanced at Zhang Sui, and said nothing.

Zhang Sui took out his keys and opened the door. "Get in."

Zhang Jiaqi dragged a silver suitcase inside, shuffling slowly, and kicked her canvas shoes off in the entryway.

"Put your shoes away properly. The slippers are on the second shelf of the shoe cabinet."

Zhang Sui took off his suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack. "I’ve told you countless times to change into slippers when you come in."

Zhang Jiaqi rolled her eyes, walked straight to the sofa, flopped down heavily, and propped her legs up on the coffee table.

"Zhang Jiaqi." Zhang Sui’s voice grew stern. "Get your feet down."

"Are you ever not annoying? Mom told me to stay here for two weeks, not serve a prison sentence. Don’t try to force your bullshit hospital rules on me."

Zhang Sui looked at the cheap eyeliner on his daughter’s face and suppressed his anger. "You’re a high school student. What kind of way is this to dress? When are you going to dye your hair back to black? And those metal chains—take them all off."

"Like you have any right to tell me what to do?" Zhang Jiaqi pulled a flip phone from her pocket and started furiously typing a text. "My friends got a private room at Partyworld. I’m leaving soon, and I’m not coming back tonight."

"You are not allowed out after 9:00 PM. You’re about to be a senior. If your grades keep slipping, you won’t even get into a second-tier university. Do you think going to a KTV to drink and sing is going to solve anything about your future?"

"None of your damn business! So what if I can’t get into a university? Does that mean I’m not your daughter anymore? Oh, right. It’s not like you care anyway!"

Zhang Sui’s expression faltered. "I’m doing this for your own good."

"Shut up!"

Zhang Jiaqi grabbed her canvas bag from the sofa and shoved past Zhang Sui’s shoulder. "Don’t wait up for me. I told you I’m not coming back tonight!"

She strode toward the entryway.

Zhang Sui yelled desperately after her:

"Zhang Jiaqi, if you walk out that door today, then I don’t have a daughter!"

It was the most threatening thing a father could think to say.

But Zhang Jiaqi merely paused, turned her head, and smiled.

"You said it. I couldn’t be happier!"

BANG!

The security door was slammed shut.

Zhang Sui stood rooted to the spot, lost in a long silence.

It seemed the harder he tried to hold on to things, the faster they slipped away.

It was true at the hospital, and it was true at home.

Outside the door.

In the hallway.

Having just descended half a flight of stairs, Zhang Jiaqi suddenly stopped in her tracks.