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

Thunderous applause erupted again, this time spreading directly from the front row.

Stephen finally couldn't sit still any longer.

He stood up and strode towards the staff passageway on the side of the podium.

An assistant came out from the side door, holding a sealed brown paper bag in both hands.

The red sealing wax at the opening of the bag was intact.

Stephen took the paper bag and turned to face the audience.

"Dr. Ye, thank you for your excellent report."

He spoke in a steady tone, even forcing a smile.

"Before we end, Mayo has prepared a special segment for you."

He held up the brown paper bag.

"A blind review case. There was no ready-made diagnosis, only the most basic test data."

The whispers and murmurs in the room vanished instantly.

"Please provide a diagnosis and treatment plan in front of everyone within ten minutes."

Stephen threw the brown paper bag on the podium and took a step back.

Ye Zhen looked down at the paper bag, picked it up, and weighed it in her hand.

She pinched the seal shut, and heard a crisp "click".

The sealing wax was forcibly pried open.

Dark red fragments fell onto the podium.

She pinched the edge of the paper bag and ripped it open with a ripping sound.

The crisp sound of paper tearing echoed throughout the lecture hall via the microphone.

Staff brought out another projector and set up an electronic countdown timer on the right side of the podium.

ten minutes.

The numbers are reset to zero; it's ready to start.

Ye Zhen pulled out the first ultrasound image, held the edges with both hands, and laid it flat on the projection table.

The curtain lit up.

A severely deformed baby's heart was exposed to everyone.

The second and third images, in order, are angiography, electrocardiogram, blood gas analysis, ultrasound cross-section, and medication record.

The order of the data was completely disrupted.

There was no name, no consultation conclusion, and the examination date was deliberately erased.

Stephen put down the last page and gestured to the timekeeper.

"The rules are simple."

"Within ten minutes, you are not allowed to consult any documents or discuss anything with anyone."

"Provide a complete diagnosis and treatment plan."

The audience erupted.

Several reporters squeezed into the aisle, shoving their radio microphones toward the podium.

Harrison jumped to his feet.

"Stephen, this isn't the planned procedure!"

"This is a special procedure approved by the Academy Council."

Stephen didn't even turn his head. "Dr. Ye has already agreed."

Gu Zheng stood up from the back row and took two steps forward.

The materials were scrambled, and the time allotted was reduced to ten minutes. This was clearly not an exchange, but a public execution.

Xu Wenqiang, his face ashen, abruptly stood up and pointed at the podium, protesting sternly in English: "Professor Stephen, this is an extremely egregious violation of the rules! The meeting agenda confirmed by the Chinese side did not include a requirement to provide a conclusion within ten minutes. This is blatant academic obstruction!"

Officer Li, his eyes red with anger, clenched his fists and shouted, "This is utterly absurd! Is this how the North American medical community treats its guests? We, on behalf of the Ministry of Health, lodge a strong protest. Dr. Ye has every right to refuse this utterly shameless and insulting test!"

Upon hearing the commotion, several security personnel in the front row immediately and alertly surrounded the area.

Ye Zhen shook her head at Gu Zheng, her gaze sweeping over the extremely excited Xu Wenqiang and Li Ganshi.

She gently pressed her left index finger downwards, signaling to all the Chinese personnel to remain calm.

Gu Zheng stopped.

Xu Wenqiang gritted his teeth, suppressing his anger, and dragged Officer Li back to his seat.

Ye Zhen walked towards the projection table.

The red numbers are flashing: nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

She picked up the blood gas report.

Extremely low blood oxygen, soaring lactic acid, acidosis.

Put down the report and switch to a four-chamber view ultrasound.

The right ventricle is responsible for the circulation.

The left ventricular chamber is narrow, with poor wall mobility and a volume far below normal.

"Smack."

Replace the film.

Display the mitral valve section.

The valve was closed, and the blood flow spectrum showed no signs of normal left ventricular filling.

"Smack."

Extract the contrast image.

The aortic arch narrows abruptly, and distal imaging is delayed, with blood supply relying entirely on the ductus arteriosus.

"Smack."

No one was looking at the notes in the hall.

Old Cohen pressed the pen against the paper, but didn't write a single word.

Stephen stood to the side, his hands clasped together.

He was waiting. This batch of data came from three different examinations: before surgery, after medication, and after the condition worsened. They were all mixed together, and he wanted to see Ye Zhen frantically reorder them and be completely misled.

Ye Zhen did not line up.

She doesn't care about the dates at all; she only looks at the cycle.

At the fourteenth second, the electrocardiogram was discarded.

At the twenty-second mark, two ultrasound images were placed side by side.

At the 29th second, the aortic angiography film was extracted.

At the thirty-seventh second, she took a blank transparent film and covered the projection table.

At the fortieth second, the timer showed nine minutes and twenty seconds.

Ye Zhen picked up the oil-based pen and pressed the tip onto the film.

The first line of text was projected onto the screen.

"Left ventricular hypoplasia".

A clear hissing sound came from the middle area.

Harrison braced his knees with both hands.

Ye Zhen's wrist didn't stop.

second line.

Mitral atresia.

The seven or eight neonatal cardiac surgeons in the front row suddenly looked up.

Stephen suddenly loosened his clasped hands.

Third line.

Ventricular septal defect.

Cohen finally picked up his pen, wrote down the initials, and his wrist froze.

Ye Zhen wrote the fourth line.

"Severe aortic arch coarctation."

In the lecture hall, only the faint electronic sound of the timer counting down could be heard.

Four diagnoses, none missed.

The diagnosis was written in less than two minutes.

Stephen's prepared game-winning shot held out against her for only two minutes.

The Mayo Clinic attending physician, who was responsible for organizing the medical records, turned pale.

He participated in the consultation of patient number 9087, involving six departments and eleven top experts, and it took two full days to fully diagnose these four concurrent malformations.

Ye Zhen had no medical history and no expert consultation.

Two minutes.

In the audience, a Harvard professor spoke up, his voice very low.

"All correct."

The person next to him didn't respond, but the pen in his hand made a screeching sound as it scratched across the notebook.

The four fatal deformities are not simply a combination of one another.

The left ventricle is damaged, the mitral valve is blocked, the aorta is constricted, and the ventricular septal defect disrupts all blood flow.

Any one of these issues could be fatal; if all four are present, the existing North American cardiac surgery system simply cannot find a surgical solution.

Stephen took half a step forward.

"Dr. Ye's diagnosis is completely consistent with that of the Mayo Clinic expert team."

"After the child was admitted to the hospital, he underwent three multidisciplinary consultations, and all the data were reviewed remotely by doctors in Boston, Philadelphia, and Cleveland."

He pulled out a few documents from the bottom of the paper bag and laid them directly on the curtain.

The conclusions from seven heart centers, each signed and stamped with a red seal.

Stephen made a point of allowing time for the audience to see the signature clearly.

Three of the signatures belonged to the professors sitting in the front row of the audience.

The camera shutter kept clicking.

Stephen pushed a blank proposal sheet to Ye Zhen.

"The diagnosis is correct. Now, please give your opinion."

Old Cohen looked up and stared at the podium.

Harrison gripped the armrest tightly, his knuckles bulging.

The directors of the audience section stopped writing.

This is the real dead end.

Provide a solution: How to resolve systemic circulation issues? How to address pulmonary circulation problems?

Saying it is impossible to do it, the rules and authority that Ye Zhen had established collapsed on the spot.

Forcing a solution is tantamount to using terminally ill children for a false academic gamble.

Stephen stopped urging him.

The timer jumped to six minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

Ye Zhen took the blood gas report, glanced at the medication column, and then pushed the aortic angiography back onto the table.

Two seconds later, she raised her hand and pushed away the blank proposal paper.

Stephen leaned forward slightly.

He's going to win.

Ye Zhen turned to the first page of the medical record and slammed her index finger heavily on the blacked-out age column.

Tell me the child's age.