44 The First Urban Legend of the Internet Age

After returning to Donglian City, Luo Hao remained the same unassuming junior officer in the medical affairs department. Although he had decided to step up his game, patients were not simply available at the whim of wanting surgery.

Days passed one after another, and Wen Youren always greeted Luo Hao with a smiling face. Luo Hao remained cautious, uncertain when this fellow might suddenly strike a critical blow out of the blue.

The system’s long-term main quest continued progressing daily. Cui Mingyu was truly pushing himself hard at Anzhen Hospital, which pleased Luo Hao. On the other side, after Wang Guohua started dedicating himself wholeheartedly to outpatient care for related patients, the surgical volume rapidly soared, drawing some quiet complaints from the gastroenterology department.

The gastroscopy room once belonged to gastroenterology, but now Luo Hao, Chen Yong, and Wang Guohua had taken it over. Director Li of gastroenterology also considered suggesting something to Lin Yuming, but after recalling how Lin Yuming, holding an enamel basin and arm in arm with Wen Youren, said at the hospital-wide consultation, “If I give you a chance and you’re useless,” everything quieted down.

Li was an old-school doctor. Since her youth, whenever conservative internal medicine treatments failed for conditions like cholecystitis or gastric varices, surgery had to step in. In her eyes, these were surgical matters, so even if Luo Hao and his team “bullied their way in,” things remained peaceful.

Lin Yuming was also taking action. He personally led several capable subordinates from the medical affairs department to station themselves in the ultrasound and CT rooms. Ostensibly, this was to eliminate safety hazards and ensure smooth operation of the mining hospital. But the department heads immediately understood: Lin Yuming was there to find patients.

Director Lin’s intentions were simple—these were all patients, all needing surgery. The more ultrasound-guided puncture surgeries done, the less time there was for interventional procedures like embolization. Every surgery less was beneficial.

Although Lin Yuming was formally trained in radiology and highly regarded interventional surgery, that was for others to do. As for Luo Hao, his own nephew, fewer surgeries were better.

With efforts from all sides, Luo Hao’s surgical numbers surged rapidly. There were still two vacancies in the medical team, but the system did not clarify. Luo Hao tried to bring Cui Mingyu down to join but failed. He guessed perhaps it was a one-to-one slot arrangement, so he dared not use the medical team’s quota recklessly.

Wang Guohua was too old; Chen Yong too young and eccentric. Luo Hao remained observant.

Currently, Luo Hao averaged over a hundred interventional surgeries a week, mainly cyst punctures, supplemented by endoscopic surgeries. Only Wen Youren still needed the truly intense, “white coat armor” surgeries to find patients.

Luo Hao calculated he could complete over 500 surgeries by the first snowfall. Barring any mishaps before New Year’s Day, he would finish the second stage of his task. The once distant goal of fifteen free attribute points now seemed within reach.

As patients grew in number, Luo Hao became busier and prepared to upgrade his stamina. The life of an ox or horse was tough—he had to prepare his own feed and work hard to improve his endurance.

It was, frankly, frustrating.

But Luo Hao was ready to transform himself into a stronger ox or horse.

One day after work, Luo Hao called his mother to report safety and mentioned he’d be working overtime at the hospital.

“Chen Yong, what do you want to eat?”

“Wait a moment.” Upon hearing Luo Hao’s question, Chen Yong jumped up and went to find a nurse.

Whenever good things happened, Chen Yong immediately thought of nurses and female doctors. He had excellent rapport with women and was proactive.

Ten minutes later, Chen Yong returned, reading a document aloud to Luo Hao. Luo Hao wasn’t concerned about the amount; he wasn’t lacking.

Though Chen Yong usually avoided speaking to Luo Hao and preferred chatting with nurses, he was diligent when working. Young, talented, and skillful, Chen Yong was showing signs of surpassing Wang Guohua with new techniques.

Chen Yong was like an air conditioner dedicated to women—warm and pleasant to all. Luo Hao had long accepted this.

Soon, the milk tea arrived first.

“Luo Hao, watch the ward for me.” Chen Yong happily grabbed the milk tea bag and headed off to the obstetrics and gynecology department, where Luo Hao also had patients, so ordering milk tea for them was natural.

Chen Yong always “volunteered” to deliver milk tea, even if his own nurses rolled their eyes.

Luo Hao worried Chen Yong’s “central air conditioning” might one day short-circuit, dragging Luo Hao down with him.

Chen Yong was gone for a full half hour. When he returned, the dinner delivery had arrived.

“Let’s eat! Let’s eat!” Chen Yong clasped his hands and said, “Safe and sound.”

“Does that work?” Luo Hao asked.

Chen Yong always had some strange ritual before meals.

“Don’t know,” Chen Yong said piously, waving at the void, “but it might.”

“Brother Yong, I saw on Xiaohongshu someone mention a ritual that seemed pretty effective,” the nurse smiled at Chen Yong.

“Don’t listen to them. None of it’s serious,” Chen Yong replied.

“Why? They sounded so convincing.”

“All internet jokes,” Chen Yong explained. “For example, not long ago, there was a story about a grandson unplugging a ventilator to charge a phone. Classic internet joke.”

“What? Not true? It sounded so real. Didn’t we have a patient’s companion unplug the monitor because it was noisy last year?” the nurse asked.

“That was a monitor. Ventilators have three-prong plugs; phones have two. Totally different.”

Luo Hao slurped his food, already used to ignoring Chen Yong’s antics.

“Believing this as a medical staff, you’re too innocent, too adorable,” Chen Yong complimented.

Luo Hao nearly spat out his rice, drinking a big gulp of Baishui Mountain water to suppress laughter.

Chen Yong was so brazen and imaginative; he could say such things right in Luo Hao’s presence without hesitation. Luo Hao glanced at him but said nothing.

Chen Yong, while serving vegetables to the nurse, continued, “Patients on ventilators are all in ICU; family can’t enter. Besides, ventilators have backup power. I was in ICU during internship when suddenly the power went out!”

The nurse’s eyes widened in alarm.

“All the ventilators and monitors started alarming loudly enough to shake the roof.”

“Really?”

“Of course. But there were similar legends before.”

“Before? No phones then, where did those stories come from?”

“You think people before the internet had no entertainment? My mentor said gossip, true or not, attracts attention. Ancient supernatural tales, like the famous Liaozhai, are basically collections of gossip.”

The nurse chuckled softly.

Jiang Wenming? Luo Hao smiled—he was an interesting character.

“There’s an urban legend about a hospital where every morning at five, patients’ conditions worsen and they die. ICU, specifically. People speculated ghosts haunted the place, spirits most active just before dawn when the sky is dim.”

“I’ve heard that!” The nurse’s eyes lit up, finding common ground with Chen Yong. “Later they said it was because cleaners unplugged ventilators to plug in vacuum cleaners early every morning.”

“Exactly. So the grandson charging the phone story is just a modern version of the cleaner legend, fabricated by social media for clicks. You’re too innocent; don’t fall for it so easily in the future.”

“Hee hee hee~”

Luo Hao quickly finished his meal.

Chen Yong’s chatting with the girls was honestly annoying. If only he spent half that time on surgeries, he’d have already outpaced Wang Guohua.

“Brother Yong, was the urban legend spread through newspapers back then?” the nurse asked.

“Probably.”

“By email, and the cleaner incident wasn’t fabricated,” Luo Hao answered as he left the room after eating.

“Bullshit, the internet hasn’t been around that long,” Chen Yong scoffed, unconvinced.

“Email was invented by American computer engineer Ray Tomlinson in 1971. In the 1990s, with the Cold War’s end, military emails became civilian,” Luo Hao explained.

“Keep making it up,” Chen Yong said, grabbing his phone to verify.

The idea of cleaners unplugging ventilators was so absurd, Chen Yong was sure it was a joke. He thought Luo Hao must be jealous.

“The Cape Town Times published on June 13, 1996, described cleaners unplugging ventilators to power floor polishers. Newspapers have limitations, but emails don’t. This was almost the first urban legend after email became civilian,” Luo Hao said.

“!!!”

“!!!”

“If you don’t believe me, look it up. After a patient died, Cape Town hospital discovered the issue.”

Chen Yong searched on his phone and found it! An urban legend dating back to the 1990s.

“There. I told you not to trust it,” Chen Yong grumbled. “Urban legends are lies. One patient died by accident; they made it seem like a spooky regular occurrence.”

Luo Hao smiled faintly.

“Ah! It’s snowing!” The nurse, noticing Chen Yong’s embarrassment, suddenly brightened and excitedly ran to the window.

The year’s first snow had arrived earlier than Luo Hao expected.

Looking at the progress bar on his main quest, still under halfway, Luo Hao felt a tinge of regret.

“Ding dong~”

A crisp sound came to Luo Hao’s ear.

Damn!

Luo Hao cursed inwardly.

It was a night owl task.

He hoped for some missions, but definitely not emergency ones while eating hotpot and singing.

Emergency rescue sent adrenaline surging through the body; even young Luo Hao would need hours to recover.

[Emergency Task: Winter Snow? Freezing Snow!

Task: Treat the surge of emergency patients caused by freezing snow.

Duration: 12 hours.

Reward: +1 medical team member slot.

Note: The system grants 0.1-10 points based on patient treatment; 100 points unlock the base reward.]

Hmm?!

Luo Hao noticed something strange about this task. Was the system really being so elaborate? Usually only game companies would go to such lengths to entice spending. A system itself being so competitive? Why?

He thought this silently but then focused on the key points.

First, freezing snow was a natural disaster. Especially during peak meal or commuting times, it could cause countless chain collisions and falls.

Though the task description was plain, Luo Hao sensed something off.

Second, the reward was generous; he certainly didn’t think the system was so kind.

Apart from beginner tasks, the system always appeared stingy.

“Snow, huh? It’s not that cold yet. Will there be freezing snow?” Chen Yong muttered.

Luo Hao walked straight out of the doctor’s office.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take a look.”

“Let me come too!”

The nurse, seeing the two shoulder to shoulder, pouted with envy.

Taking the elevator down, as soon as they reached the first floor, Luo Hao saw a patient’s family member carrying a meal box suddenly stumble and fall flat on the ground with a “thud.”

“Damn!”

“Shit!”

Luo Hao and Chen Yong whispered simultaneously.

Luo Hao pulled out his phone and called his mother to confirm she was home, advising her not to go out. Then he called Lin Yuming.

“Director Lin, freezing snow has started.”

“Hm, what do you want to do?” Lin Yuming asked.

“There will be many emergency patients. I want to check the emergency department. You should contact the central blood bank and be prepared.”

Lin Yuming, an experienced medical affairs director, understood well what sudden freezing snow implied.

Most medical affairs departments, however, did not prepare ahead, doing just enough to solve problems as they arose. Those who excelled silently were mere urban legends.

There was no such thing as total prevention.

Thus, a problem-oriented approach prevailed.

Lin Yuming gave Luo Hao a few instructions to oversee the emergency department and handle anonymous consent forms.

Recently, emergency had installed cameras, so Luo Hao could complete paperwork under full video surveillance, adding a layer of security.

After finishing, Lin Yuming paused and gravely asked, “Little Snail, do you really like emergencies that much?”

“Huh? No, who likes emergencies?”

“If you don’t like it, then stay away. Why do I feel you care so much about emergencies?” Lin Yuming was puzzled.

Normally, sane people avoided emergencies. But Luo Hao’s concern made Lin Yuming wary.

“I care or not, emergencies are there. Uncle, I tell you, just now in the elevator to the first floor I saw someone fall flat. This freezing snow is worse than two years ago. I expect a busy night.”

Two years ago, freezing snow had caused an overcrowded emergency room, filled with car accident and fall-related fractures.

Lin Yuming sighed silently and hung up.

“I’m heading to emergency. You prepare in the department. General surgery will be busy. And don’t call Director Guohua.”

“Why?” Chen Yong asked.

“Look outside.” Luo Hao pointed to the door.

Rain mixed with snow, the flakes melting on contact and instantly freezing.

Within minutes, the ground outside gleamed like a mirror.

Pedestrians walked stiffly and cautiously, like puppets.

Within sight, a car in the hospital grounds rear-ended another.

The driver stepped out, only to slip and fall backward, hitting the back of his head.

Though far away, Luo Hao and Chen Yong faintly heard the loud “thud.”

Fortunately, the driver was uninjured and quickly stood up holding the car door.

He stared blankly at the mirror-like ground.

This was in a hospital where vehicles moved slowly.

In less crowded areas, driving at 80 km/h would be impossible to stop.

Rear-end collisions were bad enough; if a novice driver lost control and crashed head-on…

The consequences would be dreadful.

“If Director Guohua drives here, it’s too dangerous. Who’s on second shift today?”

“Director Zhu,” Chen Yong answered.

He was the deputy head of general surgery, mediocre at best, below even Wen Youren.

Luo Hao sighed.

Given the conditions, anyone would have to make do.

“I’m going to emergency. You prepare in the department.”

Luo Hao said and strode toward the emergency department.

Inside, the emergency lobby was packed with patients who had just been seen but could not leave, or were waiting for pickups.

The sky outside glowed red, the ground white, and people’s hearts grew uneasy.

They whispered, made calls warning relatives to drive carefully.

Luo Hao glanced at the arrivals in emergency.

…

Wen Youren was driving in to inspect the on-site team.

He held back, not out of goodwill but waiting for an opportunity to make a formal report.

Such a blow had to be decisive, leaving no chance for opponents to react.

Over time, Wen Youren increasingly saw Luo Hao as a true rival and could not afford to overlook him.

This day was the chance!

But halfway there, he encountered freezing snow.

It was as if fate was against him.

Wen Youren’s car became part of a chain collision; dozens or hundreds of cars crashing and trapped.

…

The emergency department was in a calm before the storm.

The emergency surgeons stood with hands behind their backs, gazing through the window, deeply worried.

Especially the emergency 120 doctor, his face drawn tight with concern.

“Are the on-call staff here?” Luo Hao asked upon entering.

“Ah?” They were surprised the medical affairs person arrived so early.

Frontline clinicians disliked medical affairs’ presence, which usually meant trouble—like freezing snow itself.

“Yes,” replied the 120 doctor.

“Let’s check all emergency drugs in the 120 ambulance. Bring everything necessary and prepare for a call lasting two to three hours.”

The emergency 120 doctor sighed heavily.

“Little Luo, why am I so unlucky?” he said.

“Brother Hou, what’s wrong?” Luo Hao asked.

The 120 doctor, Hou Dongfeng, was short, small, and looked older than his age, fitting his name ironically.

“In summer, I was called out at 3 a.m. for a car accident where the car tipped into a ditch.”

Hou Dongfeng looked troubled.

“When I got there, the person was definitely gone, but they were underwater. What was I supposed to do?”

“You didn’t dive in to rescue, did you?”

“Had to. No one else around. The passerby was long gone. The stretcher-bearers couldn’t swim, so I had to pull the person out myself. Drowning victims are heavy—I almost got pulled down.”

Hou Dongfeng spoke as he and Luo Hao approached the 120 ambulance.

The vehicle waited in a makeshift garage, the driver eating hurriedly.

Seeing the weather, everyone knew a fierce battle awaited.

“And then, Brother Hou?”

“Nothing much. I struggled to pull the person out. Emergency doctors should know how to swim, right? Look at today’s weather—you can’t expect to return in under two to three hours once you go out.”

“If we get a woman in labor with water broken… Hey, Little Luo, medical affairs better have my back.”

Hou Dongfeng began to wail.

“Have your back in what way?”

“Usually, patients with water broken arrive within 20-30 minutes. But with this weather, if delayed hours outside, what if the baby is born in the ambulance?”

Luo Hao was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I’m a surgeon, not obstetrics. I can handle simple cases, but if a baby is born in the ambulance with a nuchal cord and the baby comes out blue all over…”

Luo Hao shivered involuntarily.

What a nightmare!

“Brother Hou, do you have persecution complex?” Luo Hao asked.

“Little Luo, I think you’re the one with the complex. You come running to check emergency drugs as soon as it snows. Who else would be so crazy?”

“Brother Hou, you…”

“Ah, sorry, Little Luo, not insulting you. Haha.”

Hou Dongfeng laughed awkwardly.

“When I studied, I thought professionals in all fields worked diligently, cooperated, mastered skills, fulfilled duties, and kept society running smoothly.”

“Ha, yeah right,” Luo Hao laughed.

He bent down to get into the ambulance, his expression growing cold.

Hou Dongfeng didn’t notice, babbling as he climbed in.

“Most fields are full of slackers, and a few smart ones who just go through the motions, like our mining hospital. Few work seriously; most pretend not to notice.”

“But it’s okay—they barely keep the collective work above the bottom line. Society runs shakily, leaking and dripping.”

“There was a saying: a workplace is a big broken ship—though damaged, it still sails. But push it hard, and be careful…”

Hou Dongfeng’s voice suddenly faltered as a sharp, chilly feeling cut across his face like a blade.

“Little Luo?” Hou lowered his voice, whispering.

“Where’s the saline? No saline at all?” Luo Hao’s forehead burned with anger.

…

Note: When I was on the 120 team, I feared this scenario most. Luckily, I never encountered it.

My shifts were very busy. Just a few days ago, chatting with the chief, I realized over 80% of upper GI bleed patients came during my shifts.

I shrugged and looked to the sky.

Fortunately, I never had a pregnant woman give birth in a 120 ambulance.