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

The first batch of hospitals that received Zhou Hai's call reacted remarkably in unison.

Wu Wenqing of Xiehe Hospital is a renowned and respected figure in the domestic medical field. After hanging up with Zhou Hai, he didn't say a word, but directly ordered three of the department's top associate chief physicians to come, packed their bedding, and headed to the train station.

Dean Zhao Guangping of the Provincial Hospital went even further. Fearing that all the spots would be snatched up if he was a step too late, he directly dispatched the hospital's only Santana sedan to transport the two team leaders from the orthopedics and general surgery departments to the northern part of the city.

Within just one day, signs were put up for three temporary consultation rooms in the outpatient hall of the Beicheng Military Region General Hospital.

When the patients' families in the lobby couldn't see Ye Zhen in person, they became enraged and surrounded the door of the temporary clinic, threatening to bang on it. Just as the head of the outpatient department was about to call security, the door to the temporary clinic opened.

An elderly director, wearing a white coat and with his reading glasses perched on his nose, came out. He was a highly sought-after figure at the hospital, his presence commanding respect.

He casually picked up an old medical record from the first troublemaking family member, glanced at it, and said in a deep voice, "Congenital heart disease. The child's lips are cyanotic, and he's having difficulty breathing. The county hospital in our hometown gave him a death sentence because they couldn't cure him, so we insisted on finding Dr. Ye to save his life. Now you're making a scene here, smashing the door, do you think your child's cyanosis will go away?"

The family members were stunned by these words and stood there dumbfounded.

"Go pay the fees, take your child for a blood test and a chest X-ray. Give me the results, and Dr. Ye's treatment plan will be delivered to you within an hour." Director Wu turned and walked into the consultation room. "Next patient, come in."

The commotion outside subsided instantly. The patients' families looked at each other in bewilderment and immediately formed a long, orderly queue.

In the consultation room, these senior doctors, who usually swaggered around in their own hospitals, happily took on the work of interns and resident physicians. They inquired about medical histories in detail and quickly recorded symptoms. When thick stacks of medical records were delivered to Ye Zhen's office in the back, the quality was astonishingly high—no wasted words, clear handwriting, and accurate examination data.

Ye Zhen sat behind a large desk. A stack of medical records lay beside her, and freshly brewed sago tea was on the other side.

She opened the first medical record, her eyes scanning the pages quickly.

She didn't need to personally inquire about tedious medical histories, nor did she need to spend a lot of time calming down the family. Professional initial screening had already filtered out all the useless information. She only needed to rely on her surgical experience, which was ahead of its time, to make the final judgment on these cold, hard data.

She removed the caps from the red and blue pencils and wrote down the diagnosis and treatment plan at the end of the medical record in a flamboyant style.

"Hospitalization is recommended. A median sternotomy and ventricular septal defect repair under cardiopulmonary bypass will be performed. Surgical grade: Level IV."

After finishing writing, I closed the book and tossed it into the file basket on my left. Then I picked up the second one.

Throughout the morning, Ye Zhen's office became the core brain of the main hospital's operations. One hundred and twenty medical records were all reviewed and approved within just three hours. When the nurses returned these records, complete with final treatment plans, to the visiting experts, the experienced senior directors, gathered around the table, stared at Ye Zhen's annotations, and fell into a long silence.

"Old Li, take a look at this." A department head surnamed Wu pointed to one of the orthopedic medical records, his hands trembling slightly. "This is a comminuted fracture of the femoral shaft. We originally thought we could only perform amputation or simple external fixation, but she actually annotated 'interlocking intramedullary nailing.' This procedure... the concept was just mentioned in foreign literature last month!"

"And this too! For the superior mesenteric artery embolism, she drew a sketch, indicating the approach for thrombectomy and the collateral circulation preservation plan. In my thirty years of teaching, I've never seen such a clear line of thought in terms of anatomical understanding."

The experts, who had initially felt a little awkward about being "served as scribes," were now completely convinced. In the presence of this surgical genius, they abandoned all their arrogance.

2 PM. Operating Room No. 1, Main Hospital.

This was Ye Zhen's first surgery of the afternoon, and it was also an extremely complex heart surgery.

A row of senior specialists stood by the sink. After washing his hands, Director Wu raised his arm, gesturing for the nurse to put on his sterile surgical gown. He glanced at the deputy directors from several provincial and field hospitals nearby, his eyes conveying a warning. The meaning was clear: This patient is mine; no one can take his place. The assistant's position is mine.

Ye Zhen walked in, and the nurse fastened the straps on her back. She put on sterile gloves, walked to the surgeon's position on the operating table, and glanced down at the patient who had already been anesthetized.

"start."

Ye Zhen extended her right hand. Without hesitation, Director Wu slapped the scalpel into her palm.

Under the operating lights, Ye Zhen's hands were as steady as a robotic arm. The blade sliced ​​through the skin, subcutaneous tissue, and fascia, leaving a straight and perfect incision. The electrocautery moved about, and amidst the soft hissing sound, there was no unnecessary bleeding.

For the next two hours, only Ye Zhen's cold instructions and the clanging of instruments filled the operating room.

"Blocking clamp".

"Give us a little push with the hook, or we'll expose you."

"Number four sutures."

Director Wu, acting as the first assistant, was drenched in sweat. He realized that his usually stellar surgical pace was starting to falter in front of Ye Zhen. Ye Zhen's movements as she dissected blood vessels were too fast and too precise; often, just as he was thinking about where to clean the next area of ​​tissue, Ye Zhen's scissors had already removed the connective tissue there.

During the dissection of a critical variant blood vessel, the patient's blood pressure suddenly fluctuated, and bleeding occurred in the vessel wall.

The hearts of the several visiting doctors watching nearby leaped into their throats. In traditional surgery, this could easily lead to uncontrollable massive bleeding.

Director Wu's hand, which was gripping the hemostat, instinctively reached out to clamp the blood vessel.

"Don't move." Ye Zhen didn't even raise her head, her voice frighteningly calm. "It's a ruptured branch of the venous plexus. Blindly clamping it will tear the main trunk."

She took a pair of fine tweezers and precisely picked out the bleeding point, barely larger than a pinprick, in the extremely narrow field of vision. With her other hand holding the needle holder, she swiftly inserted two needles. Suturing, knotting, and cutting the thread—her movements were fluid and seamless.

In less than twenty seconds, the bleeding completely stopped. The blood pressure on the monitor stabilized again.

Director Wu stood opposite her, watching Ye Zhen's hands form a perfect surgical knot, her palms sweating profusely. He suddenly felt that all his surgical experience over the past half-life had been wasted. That absolute control over human anatomy wasn't just experience, but pure talent.

"This little girl... is being fed by the ancestral master himself." Director Wu sighed inwardly.

After completing three highly complex surgeries in quick succession that afternoon, Ye Zhen stepped off the operating table. Several prominent experts in the Chinese medical community followed her out of the operating room, their gazes filled with pure fervor and awe.

From that moment on, this group of free laborers "borrowed" by Zhou Hai became Ye Zhen's most devoted followers.