When I'm on the night shift, all the department heads can't sleep.

Shen Ruomei personally called the emergency room to inform them of Xu Qing's surgical outcome.

"A ruptured left fallopian tube pregnancy resulted in over 1,000 milliliters of blood in the abdominal cavity. If the patient had arrived any later, the family wouldn't have had the face to save, and would have been forced to prepare for the worst."

Shen Ruomei never beats around the bush.

Qin Hai had the phone on speakerphone, and everyone in the office could hear him.

Xu Qing's father stood at the door, his face ashen.

He had just wanted to argue with the emergency room staff, saying it was shameful for his unmarried daughter to be asked gynecological questions. But now, hearing about "more than a thousand milliliters of blood," he felt like his bones had been removed.

"Doctor," his voice was terribly hoarse, "can she...can she still have children in the future?"

Shen Ruomei said coldly on the other end of the phone, "Live first, then we'll talk about the future. Family members should cooperate with the follow-up treatment and stop cursing at her in the ward."

The phone hangs up.

Mr. Xu stood at the door, not moving for a long time.

Mrs. Xu was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to support herself against the wall: "I told her her expression was off, I told her not to scold her..."

The aunt hid in the corner of the corridor and never dared to go forward again.

Lin Ye didn't look at them for long.

In the emergency room, Wu Hao's condition was deteriorating.

The boy in the school uniform lay on the bed, breathing rapidly, his face still bearing the innocence of a teenager. The security guard and the homeroom teacher stood at the door, repeatedly explaining, "He said he felt chest tightness this afternoon, and the teacher thought he was making excuses. He's often asked for leave before."

Jiang Peng examined patients at the bedside, his voice more tense than usual.

"How many days have you had the fever?"

Wu Hao, his eyes barely open, mumbled, "Three days."

When did the chest tightness start?

"afternoon."

"Are you feeling anxious?"

"have."

Lin Ye stood to the side, watching the monitor.

My heart rate is very fast, my blood pressure is low, and my mental response is poor.

Jiang Peng picked up the stethoscope, his palms sweating.

He had just treated a routine appendicitis patient, and now he was suddenly thrust into the face of fulminant myocarditis. Lin Ye didn't speak up for him, nor did he try to take the patient away; he simply reminded him from the sidelines: "ECG, cardiac enzymes, troponin, bedside ultrasound. Notify the cardiology department and the pediatric intensive care unit."

Jiang Peng nodded and immediately did as instructed.

Upon hearing the word "pediatric intensive care unit," the homeroom teacher turned pale: "It's that serious? He's not faking it?"

Nurse Zhao said coldly, "Your school can fake illness to the point of turning purple lips?"

The homeroom teacher's lips moved, but she didn't dare to refute.

He was still clutching the leave slip in his hand, on which the homeroom teacher's comments section read, "Suspected of skipping evening self-study; parents are advised to strengthen supervision." The handwriting was neat, but at that moment it was glaringly obvious.

Jiang Peng glanced at the paper, said nothing, and simply added Wu Hao's temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure to the record.

The electrocardiogram came back quickly, and the abnormalities were obvious.

When Tang Zhendong received the call, his first words were: "Another emergency? And Lin Ye again?"

Jiang Peng held his phone, then paused for a moment.

Lin Ye said from the side, "Director Tang, this time Jiang Peng is the doctor. He is 16 years old, and after three days of fever, he experienced chest tightness, palpitations, and a drop in blood pressure. Fulminant myocarditis is suspected."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Tang Zhendong's tone changed: "Send me the pictures. Call both the pediatric intensive care unit and the cardiology department."

Jiang Peng sent the picture, his hands still trembling slightly.

Lin Ye said in a low voice, "Get to the point."

Jiang Peng took a breath and reported his complete vital signs over the phone.

When Tang Zhendong arrived, Wu Hao was already on emergency monitoring. The director of the pediatric intensive care unit was also called in, and several people gathered around the bed, their eyes glued to the monitors and electrocardiogram.

"Fulminant myocarditis can't be delayed." Tang Zhendong looked at the homeroom teacher. "Where are the family members?"

"He's on his way." The homeroom teacher's voice trembled. "His parents work in another city, and he's contacted his aunt."

"Keep the phone line open," Tang Zhendong said. "Fulminant myocarditis progresses rapidly, and the family needs to be informed of every step. The school also needs to keep people on standby; they can't just drop the child off and consider the job done."

The homeroom teacher nodded repeatedly, her eyes already red.

Wu Hao suddenly opened his eyes and said softly, "Teacher, I wasn't pretending."

The homeroom teacher's eyes immediately reddened.

"The teacher knows, the teacher knows."

She herself wasn't confident when she said those words.

A few hours ago, Wu Hao asked her for leave because he felt chest tightness, but she rejected his leave request while she was still in the office; now the child is lying on the emergency bed, his lips are purple, and there are ECG patches all over his chest.

She slowly folded the leave slip, her fingers trembling violently.

Lin Ye stood at the foot of the bed without saying a word.

The system notification gradually faded.

The patient has entered the effective treatment process.

Jiang Peng watched as Wu Hao was wheeled into the pediatric intensive care unit, his hand still tightly clutching the medical record folder.

On the first page of his medical record, the initial chief complaint read, "Fever and fatigue, suspected of faking illness." Those four words hadn't been crossed out yet, and now they looked particularly jarring.

Jiang Peng took a pen and crossed out "suspected of faking illness" and changed it to "fever for three days, chest tightness and palpitations for half a day, poor consciousness and responsiveness".

"Linye."

"Um."

"If I were alone just now, I probably would have classified it as a general internal medicine case based on fever and fatigue."

Lin Ye looked at him.

Jiang Peng smiled wryly: "Don't try to comfort me, I know."

Lin Ye said, "That's why one person can't handle an emergency room alone."

This statement was made by Sun Zhiqiang.

Now he's told it to other people too.

At two o'clock in the morning, Xu Qing's father came to the emergency room again.

He stood in front of Lin Ye, holding a payment slip in his hand, his lips moving for a long time.

"Dr. Lin."

"Um."

"Her aunt said she was faking illness, and that we were foolish."

He lowered his head and spoke in a low voice.

"She wasn't faking illness; she almost died."

Lin Ye looked at the crumpled payment slip.

"Go to her hospital room and keep her company."

Mr. Xu nodded, turned around and took two steps, then turned back.

"Thanks."

This time, he neither bowed nor cried.

They just emphasized those two words.