All five of them are here, and you're showing me this?

“You really have faith in your uncle,” Liu Haisen teased.

“He’s the director of the medical department at the mining company,” Luo Hao replied, stating something that seemed unrelated.

Deputy Director Liu was momentarily taken aback.

He had seen many overly kind-hearted people, and most of them met miserable ends.

Those individuals could only lament the decline of human nature in private, uttering complaints, yet were powerless to do anything they truly wished.

But Boss Lin was the director of medical affairs at a city-level hospital. Judging from the obstetrics and gynecology director’s attitude toward him, he was a very assertive kind of medical director.

Mere naivety wouldn’t get one that far.

Deputy Director Liu recalled Boss Lin’s character from their school days, smiled wryly at himself, and concluded there was no need to worry about Boss Lin. He then turned and asked, “Dr. Luo, are you confident?”

“Teacher Liu, I’m not completely certain,” Luo Hao answered frankly. “But when the horse is dead, you treat it like it’s alive. Having hope is better than none.”

Deputy Director Liu had often heard such words fifteen or twenty years ago, but now they were increasingly rare.

In this era of medical disputes 3.0, few dared to say and act like that.

He felt a surge of energy, realizing that this was becoming increasingly interesting.

Not only was he intrigued by Boss Lin, but also by this vibrant young man.

“Dr. Luo, I didn’t understand the infusion formula you mentioned earlier. Come, explain it to me,” Liu Haisen said candidly, pulling Luo Hao aside.

Several hours later.

Lin Yuming summoned Liu Haisen, Luo Hao, and Director Sun from Obstetrics and Gynecology to a conference room.

Next to the seat of honor sat an elderly man with closely cropped hair dusted white like snow.

The old gentleman was vigorous and spirited.

“Old Xu, this is a specialist from the First Medical University Hospital,” Lin Yuming introduced. “Director Liu, this is the village’s former party secretary of the pregnant woman’s hometown.”

!!!

Liu Haisen looked at the energetic elder, feeling somewhat puzzled.

Was all this effort really necessary?

If the pregnant woman had shown up at other hospitals, doctors would likely have apologized, saying they lacked the technical skill and recommended treatment at a higher-level hospital.

The kind-hearted might also suggest better hospitals or more skilled doctors to prevent the patient’s family from wandering aimlessly, but that would be the extent.

Yet Boss Lin went to great lengths, even inviting the local former party secretary.

It was quite an ordeal, a significant one.

But from another perspective, Lin Yuming had an extensive network. He could call upon the village’s former party secretary at will. If this wasn’t coincidental, it must have deeper meaning.

In recent years, Liu Haisen had grown increasingly silent—such was the way of aging.

He felt that when talking with intelligent people, he seemed slow-witted; when speaking with the less intelligent, he felt even more dull.

Only by staying silent did he feel some relief.

Treating patients, earning money, supporting the family—that was enough.

But when he saw Boss Lin whispering quietly beside the party secretary, something stirred within him—an echo of youthful idealism long buried.

“Xiao Zhou.”

Once everyone had gathered, the party secretary cleared his throat and spoke to the pregnant woman’s husband.

“Secretary, what brings you here?”

“I’m worried about Er Ya’s condition,” the party secretary said solemnly. “Director Lin and I have discussed everything. You know the situation—do all you can and leave the rest to fate.”

“Yes, yes,” the husband nodded repeatedly.

What the party secretary said next seemed unimportant to Deputy Director Liu.

Boss Lin was indeed formidable!

To be a well-meaning person, one must possess extraordinary abilities; Boss Lin certainly did.

Luo Hao stood obediently in the corner, taking it all in.

This was part of clinical experience; he observed and memorized.

At the same time, Luo Hao kept reviewing the technique of umbilical vein catheterization in his mind, simulating the procedure.

He had practiced it many times in the system space; he could perform it with his eyes closed.

He gave himself an objective assessment: he should manage it well.

Moreover, with Uncle Lin Yuming having invited the venerable party secretary to oversee things, all lingering doubts were dispelled.

Doctors do their utmost; patients and their families bear no grudges against fate. Medicine returned to its original spirit.

The medical staff, through the transfusion department director, had contacted the city blood bank and completed blood typing.

The pregnant woman was sent to the ultrasound room, and all emergency medications were prepared.

“Teacher Liu, please,” Luo Hao invited Deputy Director Liu inside.

After ultrasound localization, local disinfection, sterile draping, and wrapping the probe in a sterile cover, Luo Hao found the puncture site.

His eyes fixed on the screen, right hand holding the needle, he began the umbilical vein puncture.

Deputy Director Liu’s skill was excellent; Luo Hao could clearly see the umbilical vein and needle on the ultrasound screen.

They worked silently, like partners who had worked together for years—one scanning, the other puncturing—with natural tacit understanding.

The needle’s position was perfectly visible on the ultrasound.

Soon, the needle approached the umbilical vein.

A full-term mother’s umbilical vein measures about 7-8 millimeters in diameter.

This patient was at 27 weeks gestation, with an umbilical vein less than 5 millimeters.

Moreover, the vein was beneath the surface, invisible to the naked eye, making the procedure much more difficult.

Luo Hao held his breath, left hand gently pressing on the abdomen to minimize movement, right hand steady with the needle, eyes on the screen.

The needle advanced slowly but surely. With his surgical skills at level four, Luo Hao handled this “basic” operation with ease.

Though the umbilical vein was only 5 millimeters wide, to Luo Hao it seemed as vast as an ocean.

The needle accurately pierced the vein at a 30-degree angle.

He inserted the special infusion catheter, advanced it into the vein, and secured it. The procedure was complete.

There was no drama; it took less than five minutes.

Seeing Luo Hao remove his gloves, the party secretary frowned and asked, “Xiao Lin, is that all there is?”

“Ah?”

“Ah!”

Lin Yuming uttered two surprised sounds.

The party secretary didn’t understand the difficulty of catheterization, but Lin Yuming did.

The most skilled nurses at the hospital were in pediatrics.

Veteran nurses could insert scalp needles with one try before the child began to cry.

But such nurses were becoming scarce, and parents less tolerant.

The veins on a child’s head are similar or even slightly larger than an umbilical vein and are visible on the surface.

The difficulty Luo Hao faced was incomparable.

Luo Hao’s precise, effortless puncture was undeniably exceptional.

No one expected that the quiet nephew had such extraordinary skill.

Lin Yuming had prepared for failure; even if successful, he expected multiple attempts.

But to his astonishment...

Unbelievably...

“Xiao Lin, you brought me all this way just to watch this?!” the party secretary demanded.

---

“Ah,” Lin Yuming “woke” from his thoughts, smiling as he took the party secretary’s arm. “To be honest, the young man performing the operation is my nephew.”

“He’s a student of an almost-academician; this is his level!”

He gave a thumbs-up.

Though the old man was skeptical, he still gave Lin a nod of respect.

“It looks simple because he’s skilled. Let me put it this way—no one at our mining hospital could do what he just did.”

Speaking, Lin Yuming puffed his chest proudly.

After transferring the pregnant woman to the intensive care unit and arranging everything, Luo Hao didn’t leave but pulled up a chair beside the bed to monitor the micro-infusion pump for the transfusion.

Neither the mining hospital’s medical staff nor Liu Haisen had seen such an operation.

Lin Yuming didn’t invite Luo Hao to eat but left him to watch the patient, instructing him to call immediately if anything happened.

...

“Dr. Luo, you work in the medical department, why are you here monitoring the patient?” an ICU doctor asked curiously.

“Everywhere I’m just a workhorse; no matter where I am, I have to work,” Luo Hao replied cheerfully.

The ICU doctor was speechless but gave a thumbs-up.

“The mule in the village earns 600 yuan a day, but we slaves work our tails off for less,” the ICU doctor grumbled.

“True,” Luo Hao smiled brightly, “but that money doesn’t go to the mule.”

The ICU doctor paused, not having considered it from that angle.

Though she sensed something odd about Luo Hao, his smile was so sincere she didn’t argue.

“Luckily you’re here. When I was told such a patient was coming, I nearly panicked.”

“No worries, I’ve seen similar cases in school and know how to treat them,” Luo Hao said, glancing at the system panel.

Under emergency tasks, a progress bar was halfway complete.

“Otherwise it would have to be Xiehe or Huaxi,” the ICU doctor said enviously.

Luo Hao chatted with the ICU staff, issued orders for blood draws, reviewed lab reports, and adjusted transfusion speed.

Although he lacked clinical experience, the system’s guidance was flawless—just follow the steps in the library books—and it posed no challenge.

In fact, the best treatment for twin anemia-polycythemia sequence with selective fetal growth restriction was interventional surgery.

Theoretically, catheter embolization had a 100% cure rate, far surpassing umbilical vein transfusion success.

But fetal interventional embolization was a highly advanced procedure.

Luo Hao could see this operation grayed out, unopened, requiring level 8 surgical skill.

He sighed deeply.

Despite having countless virtual instructors and not being unintelligent, eight years of surgical training only got him to level 3.

System beginner perks raised his skill to level 4—enough to outclass most doctors at the mining hospital.

But countless procedures remained beyond his reach.

A long road lay ahead.

Luo Hao was cautious, carefully tending the patient.

With fresh blood transfused, fetal indicators improved significantly.

Once stable, Luo Hao refrained from hastily sharing the “good news” with waiting family members.

That was Director Lin’s role; Luo Hao understood clearly.

As time passed, the emergency task’s progress bar advanced slowly but steadily.

Three days later, Luo Hao finally completed the task.

The crisp “ding-dong” was pleasing; he felt satisfied.

[Emergency Task: Rescue Completed

Task Description: The correct diagnosis remains unclear; the fetus still has a chance of survival. Please save the fetus.

Task Time: 3 days.

Task Reward: 10,000 experience points.]

He didn’t rush to tell Director Lin the patient was out of danger and only needed weekly transfusions.

Instead, he stared at the system panel in the upper right corner, attempting to use the experience points.

Ten thousand points seemed a lot, but applied to surgical skills, the progress bar only inched forward slightly.

Luo Hao felt this tiny advance was almost negligible.

Level 4 skills required one million experience points; similar tasks needed at least a hundred completions.

He grumbled quietly—so slow.

But he knew well that it took him nearly eight years with countless virtual teachers to reach level 3 surgical skill.

It only got harder.

No wonder there was a saying for this—“to advance at the peak of excellence.”

In this light, the level +1 surgical skill reward for beginner tasks was extraordinary.

Take it slow; you can’t swallow an elephant in one bite.

Luo Hao sighed and used the ICU phone to call Director Lin, reporting the patient’s condition.

The patient was transferred out of ICU back to a private room in Obstetrics and Gynecology.

Director Lin arrived, saw the mother and fetus stable, explained in detail to the family, then left with Luo Hao.

“Not bad, Little Horn,” Lin said.

“Not bad,” Luo Hao chuckled. “That’s because you helped expand my scope of practice. Without my certificates in obstetrics and radiology, I wouldn’t dare do this.”

He playfully put a big hat on Lin’s head, silencing him.

“Recently, you’ll be stationed in Obstetrics and Gynecology. Try to solve their problems.”

“What if I can’t?” Luo Hao asked.

“Then I’ll solve Director Sun,” Lin answered flatly.

The situation was irreversible: if the problems couldn’t be fixed, the troublemaker had to be dealt with.

“How will you do that?” Luo Hao probed.

“The bed vacancy rate is too high. I’ll merge Obstetrics with other departments,” Lin said calmly. “If she still can’t manage, then I’ll take other measures. Why do you ask?”

“Heh.”

“Go home and see your mom. She’s called me several times these past days,” Lin said. “Hurry back—I’m about to be worn down by her.”

“Okay,” Luo Hao replied crisply.

“Luo Hao, let me make one thing clear,” Lin said in a low voice.

Luo Hao was startled; his smile faded as he stood attentively before Lin.

Uncle Lin rarely used his full name, usually calling him Little Horn.

When he did, it meant something serious.

“I plan to have you work in clinical practice for a while.”

Luo Hao nodded.

“Grassroots work is tough; many avoid it. Others go down but can’t handle the complex problems and soon reveal their true colors. But you…”

Lin looked him up and down.

Luo Hao exhaled in relief. He was a doctor—how could he resist clinical work?

Though it was busy, exhausting, risky, and low-paying.

First, he wasn’t short of money.

Second, with Lin Yuming’s medical department backing him, there was nothing to fear.

“Work hard,” Lin said, patting Luo Hao’s shoulder with earnest regard.

Luo Hao was ready to go home.

After watching over the patient for three days and nights, though he could wash and eat, the exhaustion seeped from his bones.

Driving his well-used manual 307 home, Luo Hao unlocked the door to be greeted by the fragrance of food.

“My useless child only earns 6,000 yuan a month. What can that even buy these days?”

“Exactly. And he doesn’t even save for a wife—right after payday, he buys a bunch of useless stuff.”

“Xiao Lin, why are kids like this nowadays?”

Aunt Wang from next door sat on the sofa, shelling sunflower seeds while chatting with Luo’s mother.

When she mentioned the 6,000 yuan salary, she spat seeds almost onto Luo’s face.

“You’re back hungry?” Luo’s mother stood up to serve dinner.

Having a mother was wonderful; Luo Hao smiled.

“Wang Auntie, join us for a bit.”

“No thanks. My worthless son drives me crazy,” Aunt Wang said. “He’s not like you—safe from wind and rain at the hospital, skilled for life. The bureaucracy is complicated; that kid barely talks every day…”

When she mentioned the bureaucracy, her eyes sparkled.

“Tian Ci has a bright future—impressive,” Luo Hao said, flattering.

“No, you’re more impressive—eight years at Xiehe, top exam scorer in the city! Little Horn, you must earn well at the hospital.”

“Not much, three or four thousand a month.”

“That little? Impossible, no way.”

“The hospital’s public service; it’s not about money,” Luo Hao smiled, brushing it off.

Aunt Wang’s smile grew even more self-satisfied.

Luo Hao chatted with her as dinner was served. After a few minutes, Aunt Wang left happily.

“Did you brag to Aunt Wang?” Lin Yuejuan asked.

She looked young, with faint wrinkles at her eyes adding charm rather than age.

“No, medical anti-corruption is strict now,” Luo Hao said, sitting at the table, beginning to eat heartily.

“Good, keep it low-key. Such a large monthly transfer makes me uneasy,” Lin Yuejuan said.

“No worries. But Mom, you gave me that tired manual 307—can I get a new car?”

“No. At your age, having a car is already good,” she said firmly, refusing his unreasonable request.

Every month, a large sum arrived from a trust company—about equal to her lifetime earnings.

Though she knew the money’s source was legitimate, discretion was wise.

“Your uncle wants to set you up with a girlfriend. Interested?” Lin Yuejuan asked.

“Can’t not be,” he replied.

“If you don’t want to meet her, don’t. Single a minute, happy sixty seconds,” she smiled.

Luo Hao inherited his smile from her.

“Why is Uncle more eager than you?”

“Old-fashioned. He thinks you must have a child,” she said. “Let me be clear: if you find the right person and want to marry, I won’t stop you. But don’t expect me to babysit. I’ve worked all my life and will retire soon. After retiring, I want to travel.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. There’s still the mother-in-law. If that day comes, you’ll get money monthly—no one will say a word.”

“What if that day never comes? Did you meet a nurse you like at the hospital?” Lin Yuejuan tapped her bowl with chopsticks. “Listen, it’s best not to find a nurse.”

“Why? You have professional prejudice?”

“Nurses do night shifts. By 27 or 28, they reach their limit and have to find day jobs. Look at our mining hospital—at least a third of the positions are held by former nurses. If you marry a nurse, you’ll have to rely on your uncle forever.”

“Got it, got it.”

“Still haven’t answered me—have you met a nurse you fancy?” Lin Yuejuan pressed.

“No, I swear.”

After dinner, Luo Hao washed dishes while Lin Yuejuan changed clothes to go for a walk.

After cleaning, washing, and lying down, Luo Hao stretched.

Home was truly comfortable!

Looking at the system panel in the upper right, Luo Hao began to ponder.

A beginner task, not too difficult, easily completed with Director Lin’s help.

Though the emergency task was deemed perfect by the system and satisfied the patient and family, Luo Hao was not content.

Umbilical vein transfusion had only about a 50% success rate.

Without a high luck value, success was uncertain.

But theoretically, interventional surgery could cure 100%, requiring level 8 or 9 surgical skill—a daunting prospect.

He wondered if any domestic surgeons had reached level 9.

Staring at the long progress bar, Luo Hao dreamed of reaching level 9 someday.

Meals were eaten one bite at a time.

He wasn’t impatient, just hopeful, and returned to the system library to study.

Reading also gave experience points, but these went to diagnostic AI.

He carefully examined every corner of the system panel, ensuring nothing was overlooked.

After reading, he returned to the system operating room for surgical training.

Luo Hao’s routine was disciplined—lights out at ten.

The next morning, Lin Yuejuan had breakfast ready when he woke.

After eating, Luo Hao arrived at the hospital.

Changing clothes in the medical department, ready to head to Obstetrics, Lin Yuming appeared at the door.

“Luo Hao, wait a moment.”

“Eh,” Luo Hao obediently followed him to the office, sensing official business.

“What’s your plan for Obstetrics?”

“Start interventional surgery. Cooperation between ultrasound and Obstetrics needs your coordination.”

“I’m raising their medical insurance quota by 500,000 yuan, but only if they accept ovarian cyst puncture and sclerosis.”

“Good. Should I inform Director Sun?”

“Don’t say it outright; it’s not finalized,” Lin waved his hand.

“Okay.”

“Little Horn, was what you learned at Xiehe always so difficult?” Lin asked casually.

“Well, we did the eight-year combined bachelor-master-doctorate program. Our teachers thought people from Peking University and Huaxi had less solid foundations.”

“Uh…”

“Yes. I heard from seniors that over twenty years ago, Xiehe sent expert teams nationwide to select outstanding graduates to train further.”

“How come I didn’t know that?”

“Maybe because veterinary medicine wasn’t at that level.”

“Get lost!”

[End of text.]