Chapter Ten: Stitching Up and Upgrading

When Zhang Fan and the others returned to the ward after receiving the doctor’s instructions, Bayin was already awake.

“How do you feel?” Batu asked, while his brother’s eyes were red and he couldn’t speak.

“Pretty good, just feeling a little cold,” Bayin said weakly.

“You lost a lot of blood, which took away a lot of heat. You’ll warm up soon,” Zhang Fan explained as Batu and the others looked at him.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Batu said, but before he could finish, the head nurse of the surgical ward pushed an electric heater into the room. “Although the ward has heating, this can be placed closer.”

“From now on, Guli, take more care and if anything comes up, tell Dr. Zhang. This is the first major surgery our Quark County Hospital has completed without inviting specialists, relying solely on our own doctors. The doctors’ skills have improved; next, it depends on us nurses to step up,” Batu said, elevating the special care for his relative to a matter of the entire hospital’s honor.

“We will give it our all,” Shi Lei and Guli said together. Zhang Fan opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it—he still wasn’t thick-skinned enough for that.

Everyone had already eaten dinner, but today Batu’s brother insisted on inviting several doctors and nurses out to eat; it was impossible to refuse. So they went to the county hotel’s restaurant and reserved a small private room with only a few people: Batu, his brother, three doctors, an anesthetist, the head nurse of the operating room, and the head nurse of the surgical ward. The dishes arrived quickly. Today, Li Hui was treating them, so Zhang Fan didn’t dare to eat freely, though he was a bit hungry. The others only ate a few bites symbolically, but Zhang Fan wasn’t holding back.

When it came to drinking, Zhang Fan told Batu, “Tonight is Bayin’s first night after surgery. I’ll go back to the hospital after dinner to check on him. I won’t drink—sorry, everyone.” Zhang Fan didn’t want to drink anyway and took this chance to show off a bit. “Look how dedicated I am—aren’t you going to praise me?”

“Dr. Zhang, you eat your meal. When Bayin gets better in a few days, we’ll treat you to a drink. Consider this one owed.” Zhang Fan openly dodged the alcohol but ended up eating too much, returning to the hospital with a full belly. He checked Bayin’s wound dressing—it was clean, no new bleeding—and then went back to the dormitory feeling relieved.

Li Hui was on duty that night, so Zhang Fan was alone. He opened the system and saw, “Ah, suturing can be upgraded.” Over the past few months, Zhang Fan had done many skin sutures. The hospital’s scale limited the number of surgeries, so other specialties were still far from upgrading. After choosing to upgrade suturing, he discovered many new types: vascular, neural, cosmetic, organ suturing, and numerous laparoscopic sutures. Fortunately, he ate well today and could practice longer.

The upgraded suturing was much more difficult than before. Zhang Fan practiced all night, exhausted, but when he lay down, sleep eluded him. The more advanced courses couldn’t be pursued at the county hospital—vascular and neural suturing required microscopes, laparoscopic tools were absent. Only after passing the professional licensure exam could he find other ways. “I hope this skill doesn’t have an expiration date and vanish after a while.” After worrying and hesitating, he gradually fell asleep.

Morning came with a pounding headache and blurry mind. He had nightmares all night—aliens demanding the system from him, or the government slicing him up for research. Subconsciously, Zhang Fan still lacked a sense of security.

After the morning meeting, during rounds, they found Bayin’s ward overcrowded. Originally, a single room was assigned to Bayin, but by morning, visitors came in waves. Upon entering, they saw Bayin’s spirits were good.

“Dr. Zhang, Director Nu, you’re here,” Bayin’s mother stood to greet the doctors.

“Hmm, is our young Bayin recovering well? Our Dr. Zhang is amazing—no issues at all. Rest assured, in a few days, Bayin will be up and about again,” said Nur, smelling of alcohol from either last night or this morning, patting Zhang Fan on the shoulder to reassure the patient.

“Thank you, thank you,” Bayin’s mother kept expressing gratitude, her smiles always directed at Zhang Fan. He said little, just checked the supplies, patted Bayin’s head, and looked at the nurse’s temperature log. “Not bad. Keep him nourished these days. I’ll change the dressing this afternoon.”

Throughout the day, Zhang Fan’s mind was unsettled. He truly feared the system might disappear suddenly, so he wanted to upgrade as quickly as possible, to learn advanced medical techniques swiftly.

Once an ordinary man, suddenly becoming extraordinary—whether by divine protection or ancestral blessing, Zhang Fan no longer wanted to live as before. “I hope I’m granted more time.”

At noon, just after finishing work and stepping out of the doctors’ office, Bayin’s mother grabbed Zhang Fan. “Dr. Zhang, come here, I have something to tell you,” she said, pulling him into the ward. By morning, the gifts in the room had piled halfway up the wall. Oddly, there were cigarettes, alcohol, and even a whole sheep wrapped in plastic.

“Dr. Zhang, will you change Bayin’s dressing this afternoon?”

“Yes, I’ll come during my shift. Don’t worry; it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m not worried—we trust Dr. Zhang’s skill. Our old man came by this morning with something for you, but since it was crowded, I didn’t take it out.” She pulled a handbag from under the bed. Zhang Fan instinctively wanted to refuse, but Bayin’s mother said, “Dr. Zhang, this is our Mongolian custom. If you don’t accept it, it means you disrespect us and don’t want to be friends.”

“This seems a bit much!” The bag was large, well-defined in shape. Zhang Fan naively thought it might be cash. “This must be worth tens of thousands, isn’t it illegal?” He wanted to accept it but didn’t dare.

“Not much—just a few packs of cigarettes. Our old man said you don’t drink, so he didn’t bring any alcohol.”

“Oh, alright, really thank you.” Zhang Fan left feeling dazed, carrying the cigarettes. Bayin’s mother found it strange. “Dr. Zhang is good in every way, just a bit absent-minded at such a young age.”

Back in the dorm, Zhang Fan opened the bag to find four packs of Zhonghua cigarettes. After some thought, he opened one pack—he couldn’t just smoke others’ cigarettes since he never bought any himself.

After a while, Li Hui arrived at the dorm. “Awesome, I heard you did surgery on Old Ba’s relative yesterday?”

“His nephew, a femur fracture.”

“I need to cozy up to you well. When I become a leader, make sure you take care of me. At least let me be head of internal medicine,” Li Hui said, offering Zhang Fan a cigarette.

“No problem. You’ll be vice president one day. Smoke mine—Old Ba’s brother gave me a pack yesterday. I’d feel bad smoking yours.”

“Damn, Zhonghua! You’ve made it. Am I too late to switch to surgery now?”

Li Hui took a deep drag and said, “Even if someone gifts it, you shouldn’t open it. Let’s just smoke some Snow Lotus. Smoking this is a bit extravagant, feels like a crime.” He knew Zhang Fan’s family wasn’t wealthy.

“I can’t smoke it either, it’s not like I can turn it into cash.”

“You’re silly. Buy cheap ones—supermarkets around here recycle them.”

“Uh!” Zhang Fan wanted to slap himself. After years as a street vendor, he had completely forgotten this. He silently warned himself to stay grounded.