After being separated from my family, I became a darling of the military region thanks to my medical

At Beijing Airport, the wind was as hard as a knife.

A Boeing 747 with a tail fin painted with the red and blue Union Jack roared to a stop. In first class, Sir Williams clutched his elegant wool hat tightly, his palms sweaty.

His heart was pounding.

"God help me, I hope that 'Berlin Witch' isn't a vengeful person." Williams crossed himself. His mind was filled with rumors about Chinese soldiers—serious, rigid, and as solid as iron. If his previous arrogance in Germany caused him to miss this opportunity to observe that "crazy surgery," he would definitely become the laughingstock of cardiac surgeons throughout Europe.

That insane idea of ​​"preserving the valve" was like the devil's whisper, tormenting him and keeping him awake all night. He wouldn't die in peace until he saw the knife cut into him.

The hatch opened, and a cold wind rushed in.

Williams pulled his coat tighter, took a deep breath, and prepared himself for a cold reception. He even prepared a not-so-fluent apology in Chinese, ready to endure the humiliation.

Below the gangway, two black Hongqi sedans were parked on the tarmac, with several Ministry of Health officials dressed in dark blue Zhongshan suits standing beside them, each with a solemn expression, as if facing a formidable enemy.

At the very front stood a tall man wearing a military green cotton overcoat.

The man wasn't wearing a hat; his buzz cut made him look sharp, and he stood with his hands in his pockets. With broad shoulders and long legs, he resembled a moving iron tower. Even from a distance of several meters, his eyes exuded a chillingly aggressive aura.

"Isn't that Ye's husband?" Williams' heart skipped a beat; just as he feared, this happened.

Just then, the "iron tower" moved.

Gu Zheng strode up the gangway, the murderous aura on his face instantly melting away, replaced by a warm smile... as if he were seeing a long-lost brother.

"Welcome! Welcome to China!"

Gu Zheng stretched out his large, calloused hands and grasped Williams' well-maintained hand.

Williams felt as if his hand was being clamped in pliers. But before he could even cry out, Gu Zheng had already started shaking him up and down with such force that it wasn't just a handshake, it was as if he was weighing a fat sheep to see how many pounds it was.

"Sir! You must have had a tough journey!" Gu Zheng said with a bright smile in broken English with a heavy Beijing accent, but his eyes were fixed on the two metal cases carried by the staff behind him, past Jazz's shoulder.

Those eyes were glowing green.

Williams was taken aback by this sudden enthusiasm and instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but found it wouldn't budge. "Uh... Mr. Gu? I'm here to..."

"I know! You're here for the medical advancement of all mankind!" Gu Zheng didn't give him a chance to speak, slamming his other hand heavily on Williams' shoulder, almost breaking the old man's bones. "This is the spirit of internationalism! This is the Norman Bethune of our time!"

As he spoke, Gu Zheng gave a wink to Xu Wenqiang, the translator behind him.

Xu Wenqiang understood immediately and directed two guards to rush forward and "take" the two boxes from the British entourage without saying a word.

"Be careful! There are precision instruments inside!" Williams exclaimed.

"Don't worry! It's safer in our hands than in a bank vault!" Gu Zheng smiled and put his arm around Williams' shoulder, half-forcing him into the back seat of the Hongqi car. "Come on, let's talk in the car. My wife... oh no, Dr. Ye is already waiting at the hospital."

The car door closed, shutting out the cold wind.

Williams, still shaken, straightened his bow tie, which had been askew by Gu Zheng. Looking at the soldier driving ahead, he wondered to himself: This isn't what I expected. Instead of being cold, he's being a little too enthusiastic…?

"Sir, have some tea." Xu Wenqiang, in the passenger seat, handed over a military-style water bottle.

Gu Zheng sat down next to Williams, making no attempt to be polite. He immediately pulled out a notebook and pen, adopting a businesslike demeanor: "Old Williams, we've become acquainted through a series of disagreements. Since this is a collaboration, we need to be frank with each other. This surgery is very difficult, as you know, our country's resources are limited..."

"I understand." Williams, eager to show his sincerity and afraid that Ye Zhen wouldn't include him, immediately pointed towards the trunk and said, "I brought two sets of the latest artificial blood vessels, as well as the newly launched Proline 7-0 sutures and a complete set of surgical instruments!"

"You're too kind!" Gu Zheng waved his hand and made a note in his notebook. "I knew you were a gentleman! Was that a gift for Dr. Ye? I'll accept it on her behalf!"

Williams gaped, "No! That's mine..."

"Are we friends?" Gu Zheng turned his head, his wolf-like eyes staring at him. Although he was smiling, the oppressive feeling of someone who had long held a superior position instantly filled the narrow carriage.

Williams swallowed hard: "...Yes."

"Why would friends care about these things?" Gu Zheng grinned, revealing a set of bright white teeth. "After the surgery, I'll treat you to Peking duck from Quanjude, all you can eat!"

"..."

Looking at Gu Zheng's bandit-like demeanor, which seemed to say "what's yours is mine, and what's mine is still mine," Williams suddenly understood why the rumored aloof Dr. Ye had married this man.

This couple is nothing short of a pair of thieves!

One was fighting for a life on the operating table, while the other was scrambling for supplies off the operating table!

……

Small conference room in the administration building of the General Hospital of the Beijing Military Region.

The heating was on full blast, and the air was filled with a faint aroma of tea and the distinct seriousness of an academic conference.

Around the long conference table sat a dozen or so elderly men in white coats, each a figure who could command respect in the Chinese medical community. Among them were the director of cardiac surgery at the Third Affiliated Hospital of Peking University, the deans of Harbin Medical University and West China Medical College, and Dean Zhao Degong from Shanghai First People's Hospital.

At this moment, Zhao Degong was holding a teacup, boasting to his colleague next to him with a reserved expression.

"Oh, Lao Wang, don't be nervous. I know Sir Williams well." Zhao Degong blew on the tea leaves, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "Two years ago, I went to London for an inspection, and I had afternoon tea with him at the Royal Brompton Hospital. These British people, they seem arrogant, but they're really not that bad. As long as your English is good and you can chat with them, they're quite polite."

The young doctors nearby immediately looked at him with admiration.

In the early 80s, being able to go abroad for inspections and have afternoon tea with British nobles was like being gilded; it was a truly prestigious qualification.

Ye Zhen did not speak.

She was wearing a white lab coat, holding a piece of chalk, and drawing on the blackboard.

That was a preliminary anatomical diagram of Zhao Lanlan's heart.

The root of the aorta resembled an inflated balloon, and she clearly marked the locations of the complex coronary artery openings. She was so focused on her drawing that she seemed oblivious to Zhao Degong's Versailles-like pronouncements.

"Dr. Ye, the drawing is quite good." Zhao Degong glanced at the blackboard. "However, dissection is one thing, but cooperating with foreign experts on the operating table is another. Williams has a bad temper. If we don't cooperate well, it will be a disgrace to Chinese doctors. When he comes later, I'll take the lead in communication. After all, I'm practically an acquaintance of his."

Ye Zhen paused for a moment while holding the chalk.

She turned around, gently patted the chalk dust off her hands, and her cool eyes swept over Zhao Degong. She said indifferently, "Dean Zhao, you are very kind."

It was neither warm nor cold; you couldn't tell if he was happy or angry.

Zhao Degong felt even more smug. He straightened his collar and polished the "Shanghai First People's Hospital" name tag until it shone brightly.

Just then, the conference room door was pushed open.