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

The sweltering heat in the restaurant, a mixture of the muttony smell and the aroma of Erguotou liquor, dissipated halfway down the street as the night breeze blew through.

The long corridor on the third floor of the foreign-related ward of the Beicheng Military Region General Hospital was quiet.

A few dim emergency wall lamps swayed, casting flickering light on the mottled green paint on both sides.

In the doctor's office, Edward Lane sat upright in the hard wooden chair, maintaining a thin veneer of diplomatic decorum.

The large enamel mug on his desk, printed with "Serve the People," had already been filled with hot water three times. The old tea foam at the bottom of the cup had long since rotted and no longer emitted a trace of bitter fragrance.

His expensive haute couture silk suit was now soaked with cold sweat and stuffiness, clinging to his spine, a far cry from the glamorous air he had when he landed at London Heathrow Airport.

Even the slightest sound of a cart being pushed outside in the corridor would make him instinctively jump out as if he'd been given a shot, straining to focus his attention.

Soon, a series of steady and crisp footsteps came from the end.

The door was pushed open with a bang, and a chilling smell of Lysol instantly filled the stuffy little house.

Ye Zhen didn't even spare a glance for the European bigwig sitting in the corner. She quickly walked to the old-fashioned desk, skillfully pulled out the black Parker pen from her pocket, and then casually grabbed the thick stack of new medical records.

Edward finally caught his breath and stood up abruptly like a puppet straightened by a spring. He clutched the signed letter of intent tightly in his hand and hurriedly handed it forward.

"Dr. Ye!"

"We just need to hurry! That core research paper..."

"Li Hong".

Ye Zhen didn't even lift her eyelids; her clear, cool voice was calm and composed, devoid of any emotion.

With a few quick steps, Li Hong, her arms bulging with a stack of freshly printed test reports, stepped across the threshold without even taking a breath.

"Teacher Ye! Tom has been in surgery for twelve hours now!"

"Blood gas analysis, hourly urine output statistics, and the cardiac function echocardiogram just now, all the data are here!"

Edward's arms, which were holding the paper and pen, froze in mid-air.

He had prepared a bellyful of beautiful English phrases that could be published in the newspaper, but it was as if he had swallowed a piece of ice, which was stuck in his throat.

In this oriental room without even a leather sofa, the deputy editor-in-chief of The Lancet, whom all of Europe had to fawn over, didn't even have the right to say a word!

Ye Zhen took the order and immediately turned to the first page.

The black Parker pen tip traced a heavy line along the two most striking columns.

"Routine monitoring over twelve hours showed a pulmonary artery pressure of 65, which was forty points lower than before the surgery."

"Arterial blood oxygen saturation is 94%, it's very stable."

"The child urinates at around 80 milliliters per hour, which means that after the high-flow vasoconstriction was reversed, the child's kidney function was not only not affected by the medication, but the compensation mechanism was also not compromised at all."

She tapped her long, clean fingertips on the ultrasound image, then casually picked up the extension of the crank phone, expertly dialed, and called directly to the No. 1 intensive care unit.

"Bed number one, don't let him just lie there doing nothing anymore."

"The two of them worked together and began to turn him over and pat his back. They were careful to avoid the puncture site for the femoral vein and to reduce the force by half."

"Raise the head of the bed at a 15-degree angle. Every 15 minutes, listen carefully, every 15 minutes, report the child's breathing rate."

"Click!"

She didn't wait for the nurse on the other end to reply and hung up the phone immediately.

Ye Zhen rubbed her slightly tight neck, picked up the ice-cold water on the table, tilted her head back, and drank it all in one gulp.

Edward, who had been left out in the cold for half the night, finally breathed a sigh of relief, rubbed his sweaty fingers, and took half a step forward.

"Dr. Ye, you're absolutely brilliant! These indicators are simply flawless."

"With such stable data, can we sit down now and finalize the introduction to the paper?"

Ye Zhen put down the white porcelain jar and then looked at the foreigner properly.

"Mr. Edward, I need to watch this child run the full 24 and 48 hours of the timeline at least."

Edward's mind went blank for a moment.

"This extremely dangerous minimally invasive closure procedure was successful, but that doesn't mean it's completely safe."

"A groundbreaking paper written for the world's leading authorities is worthless if it doesn't have a stable tracking record after a 48-hour high-risk plunge in blood pressure."

"So... what's the plan for our time going forward?"

"If Mr. Edward can't sit still, there's a guesthouse for the Foreign Affairs Bureau on the back street of the compound."

Ye Zhen withdrew her gaze and said in a calm tone, "If you want to wait for the results, you can sit in the back and watch."

Edward didn't dare to move an inch.

He retreated to the small cabinet, sat back down on the hard old wooden chair, and waited impatiently to watch.

The old grandfather clock in the corner, its edges wrapped in lead, ticked away, its minute hand circling round and round.

In the dead of night, the deputy editor-in-chief of a top journal that holds sway over the discourse in the Western medical community stared intently at the young Chinese female doctor with bloodshot eyes.

Watch as she meticulously reviews those dense critical care orders and flips through stacks of archived medical records.

Relying solely on her hands and mind, she painstakingly derived the manual calculation formulas line by line from the back of the hardcover draft. Those meticulously crafted data streams were all part of a table predicting the extreme safe range of cardiopulmonary pressure for the little boy sentenced to death in Europe.

I waited until the gray fog outside the window was gradually split open by the morning light, and the wheels of the tin cart rolled over the corridor, waking up the entire courtyard.

Ye Zhen finally raised her hand to rub her temples and pulled out a thick piece of manuscript paper that was pressed at the bottom of her hand.

"Xiaolin, go to bed number one and get the final verification report for the past 24 hours."

After receiving the last set of data showing no abnormal fluctuations in white blood cell count, Ye Zhen finally placed her pen in the center of the manuscript paper.

In one go, he wrote a line of striking black characters.

Edward, ignoring the soreness and numbness in his legs, rushed to his desk in a few steps.

When his blue eyes finally saw the words at the top, his breath caught in his throat.

There is no description of the patient's miserable condition, nor any elaborate preaching fabricated to elicit sympathy.

What comes into view are the most cutting-edge mechanical and life-or-death limit parameters, which are airtight, cold, and leave no room for compromise.

[Huaxia Procedure Core Operating Guidelines V1.0]

I. Explanation of the data standards for the inviolable "deadline" and "red line".

II. World-class industrial-grade equipment access limits (including strict control of the resistance difference of Siemens-supplied guide wires and the physical strength of the support).

III. Complete set of precise and safe procedures for transthoracic catheter puncture with precise heat control.

IV. Standard specifications for milligram-level injection of drugs for the rescue of hypertensive ventricular hemorrhage.

V. Mandatory entry of long-term survival tracking models for those who will undergo this procedure globally within the next five years.

Every stroke was deliberate, without a single boastful or empty word.

Every line is tearing apart the old rules that the West has monopolized for decades, and then setting new ironclad rules for the whole world!

Edward's hands, gripping the corner of the table, trembled, creating a double image; the manuscript paper shook before his eyes.

From this day forward, the international authority in cardiovascular clinical practice, the baton for determining the quality of a guidewire, will no longer reside in the Royal London Hospital, nor will it sit in a high-rise office building in Washington, D.C.

She's sitting right here in this building!

Edward finally received the manuscript and found the long-distance phone line. His fingers trembled as he dialed the dial, missing the target several times.

After a long while, accompanied by piercing international long-distance noise, the line was finally connected.

"This is Edward... Get me the editor-in-chief right now..."

This Western elite, who looked down on everyone, was now gripping the phone receiver tightly, his Adam's apple bobbing, his voice trembling and out of tune.

"Send an urgent telegram to headquarters! Drag all those old men in the upper echelons out of bed!"

"Tell them we must do it immediately... we can't wait even an hour! Convene the highest-level board meeting in the magazine's 100-year history!"