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

"They're here!"

The Ministry of Health official in charge of foreign affairs reception rushed in first, his face flushed, his voice cracking with excitement: "Everyone, get ready, Sir Williams has arrived!"

"Splash!"

The chairs in the conference room scraped against the floor, making a screeching sound. Everyone in the room stood up in unison, their movements as synchronized as if they were being inspected.

Except for Ye Zhen.

She remained leaning against the podium, casually twirling half a piece of chalk in her fingers, her expression as indifferent as if she were watching a farce.

Zhao Degong reacted the fastest, rushing to the door like a spring in his backside. He hastily wiped his sparsely shaved forehead, put on the humble yet enthusiastic smile he had practiced countless times, and extended his hands to the blond old man who walked in.

"Hi, Sir Williams! Long time no see!"

Zhao Degong, speaking in fluent pidgin English in a loud voice, as if afraid the people in the room wouldn't hear his connections: "Remember me? We met two years ago in London! I'm Old Zhao from Shanghai!"

At the entrance, Sir Williams, who had just experienced a "supply ransacking" in the style of Gu Zheng, was feeling depressed and like a kidnapped hostage.

He looked at the old Chinese man who had suddenly rushed up to him, his face full of wrinkles and his smile as wide as a chrysanthemum, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly.

"Sorry?" Williams instinctively took a half step back, without reaching out. His deep blue eyes were filled with the aloofness and bewilderment characteristic of British aristocracy. "Who are you?"

The air froze in that instant.

The meeting room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Zhao Degong's hand froze in mid-air, his smile cracking like a cheap mask until it finally froze completely. His old face instantly turned a deep purplish-red, so embarrassed he could dig a Huangpu River Bridge out of the ground with his toes.

"I am Zhao... Zhao Degong, from Shanghai..." he stammered as he tried to explain, cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

But Williams didn't want to listen anymore.

His gaze passed over Zhao Degong's bald head, over the group of Chinese experts with different expressions and unease, and landed precisely at the innermost part of the conference room, like a radar locking onto a target.

There, a young woman in a white coat stood tall and straight, looking at him with a half-smile.

In that instant, all the arrogance, aloofness, and frustration on Williams' face vanished.

He took off his expensive woolen hat, pushed aside Zhao Degong like weeds blocking his way, and walked straight to Ye Zhen.

Amidst the astonished gazes of everyone in the room, who were practically bulging their eyes, this renowned European authority on cardiac surgery, this British knight whom Zhao Degong had been boasting about for so long, actually bowed slightly.

This is a standard gentleman's courtesy.

"Dr. Ye".

Williams' tone was humble yet eager: "I've brought the best equipment, along with my own full set of tools. I'm ready to help you with your hooks."

Before anyone could recover from the stark contrast, Williams suddenly pulled a small, exquisite notebook from his pocket and, like a schoolchild eager for guidance, pointed to a sketch and asked impatiently:

"But before I went on stage, one question bothered me the whole way, and if I didn't figure it out, God is my witness, my hands would shake!"

Ye Zhen raised an eyebrow but didn't speak. She simply raised her chin slightly, indicating that he should speak.

Williams pointed to the heart anatomy diagram, speaking rapidly, his voice even cracking with excitement: "Regarding your proposed 'valve preservation' scheme, that brilliant idea that I'm reluctant to admit but have to marvel at... there's a fatal hydrodynamic problem! If we replace the aortic root with a straight-tube artificial blood vessel, then when the valve opens, the leaflets will directly impact the blood vessel wall!"

He gestured anxiously, saying, "Without the natural vortex buffer formed by the 'Valsava sinus' (aortic sinus), the valve will wear down and tear within a few months due to the impact! Even if this surgery is successful, the patient won't live more than six months! How do you plan to solve this problem?"

This barrage of technical English terms left Xu Wenqiang, the translator in the room, pale-faced and unable to translate in time. Zhao Degong was even more confused, managing to grasp only the words "death" and "failure."

All eyes were on Ye Zhen.

This is a world-class problem. In this day and age, no one has even realized this step.

Ye Zhen smiled.

Her smile carried an air of effortless control. Without a word, she turned around and picked up the chalk.

"Sizzle!"

The chalk drew a sharp white line on the blackboard.

"Who said I'd use a straight tube?" Ye Zhen's voice was cool and clear, her pure London accent even more elegant than Williams'. "Sir, since God didn't leave any way out for the patient, then let's play God for once."

She boldly added a few strokes to the original diagram of the aortic root.

"Since there's no sinus, let's build one."

"Look here." Ye Zhen emphasized the bottom of the artificial blood vessel with the chalk in her hand. "Before suturing, I will shrink the bottom of this artificial blood vessel inward and use continuous mattress sutures to artificially create three bulging spaces like a skirt."

As chalk dust fell, a diagram of an "artificial vascular sinus formation" that was ahead of its time appeared on the blackboard.

"This is the 'artificial Valsava sinus'." Ye Zhen turned around, her gaze sharp. "With this space, blood flow will form vortices here, helping the valve close during diastole and preventing the leaflets from hitting the wall during systole. Do you understand?"

This is the core improvement of the famous David procedure, but in this era, it was pure science fiction.

Williams stared at the blackboard, frozen in place as if struck by lightning.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

"Oh my God..."

The British knight clutched his head, letting out a groan of disbelief, his eyes gleaming with an alarming light. "An artificial sinus... a skirt-like stitch... how could I not have thought of that? This is simply art!"

He abruptly raised his head, his gaze towards Ye Zhen no longer filled with respect, but with fervent adoration: "Dr. Ye, I believe now. You're the only one in the world who can perform this surgery! It's my honor to be your assistant!"

The meeting room was deathly silent.

Although most people didn't understand the specific principles of fluid mechanics, they grasped the overall situation—

The foreign expert they regarded as a god was completely defeated by Ye Zhen with a piece of chalk.

Zhao Degong stood at the door, his face displaying a variety of expressions. He felt like a forgotten clown, or a naked joke.

Ye Zhen lowered her eyes and glanced at Gu Zheng, who was winking at her from behind Williams. A slight, almost imperceptible smile appeared on her lips.

That was the tacit understanding of a successful "robbery," and also a unique kind of smugness between husband and wife.

"Thank you for your hard work, Sir."

Ye Zhen flicked her wrist, gently tossing the remaining half of the chalk in her hand. The chalk drew a beautiful parabola in the air, and with a "thud," landed precisely in the chalk box on the podium.

"Now that your doubts have been dispelled, let's rest for a bit and prepare for tomorrow's surgery."