Chapter Twenty: Being a Doctor Is More Than Just a Profession

The hero, covered with a white sheet, was pushed out of the operating room. The police officers in the corridor saluted almost simultaneously as their comrade passed by. There were no cries, but these tough men couldn’t hold back their tears. “Notify the family, go fetch them, send my car to bring them here,” the secretary said to the police chief, his eyes red. Zhang Fan sat on the floor outside the operating room, his head nearly buried between his knees.

Having practiced medicine for over half a year with the help of a systematic approach, Zhang Fan’s journey had been smooth. The hospital director coaxed him, the senior doctors supported him. Though not elated, he had been under the illusion that this profession was straightforward—that as long as he worked hard, he could achieve whatever he wanted, that no surgery was beyond his reach. It felt like he was gazing at the sky from a vantage point. But when a living person died right before his eyes, he was thrown into confusion. “Let’s go. In this line of work, we’re bound to face days like this. Let’s see him off,” Old Chen, who had been with Zhang Fan throughout, said. Gao Shijun, along with nurses and anesthetists, accompanied the deceased police officer out.

Once outside the operating room, Zhang Fan broke down entirely. The surgical gurney stood in the middle of the corridor. Two female officers supported a wife who had fainted, her face streaming with tears, her body trembling. Rows of police officers lined both sides of the hallway in salute. An elderly officer held a child of about three years old, who gently touched his father’s bloodied face. “Is Daddy asleep?” the child asked.

“He’s asleep. He’s tired. Baby, take one more look at Daddy. He’s a hero,” the old officer said through tears.

“Grandpa, don’t cry. Daddy doesn’t like it when Baby cries,” the little hand wiped away the tears on the old officer’s face.

“Everyone, salute! Let us send off our brother, our hero,” the police chief commanded. A party flag was gently draped over the fallen officer, as if unwilling to disturb his peaceful rest.

Gao Shijun left, mentioning that there would be surgeries at the hospital the next day. Before leaving, he patted Zhang Fan’s shoulder. “You did your best. Don’t have regrets. Being a doctor is not just a job to support your family or climb the ranks; it’s a belief.”

Zhang Fan had restless dreams for several nights, haunted by the cries of a child calling for his father. This was his first patient lost, and he had been helpless to save him.

“Their world has collapsed... Alas...” Waking abruptly in the dead of night, Zhang Fan lit a cigarette. He had tried his best, yet his heart felt hollow. Scenes from that day flickered endlessly in his mind. “I hope you find peace in heaven, free from pain and harm.” On the windowsill, a burning cigarette was left in tribute to the unknown police officer. Surrounded by blue smoke, Zhang Fan drifted into a haze of sleep.

“Choosing this profession means facing life and death. You must have a strong heart. If you can’t conquer your own fears, how can you challenge death and save lives? Alright, take a few days off, clear your mind,” Batu said, worried Zhang Fan might collapse, pulling him into his office for counsel.

The winter sunlight cast a gentle, intoxicating warmth. Zhang Fan returned to the outpatient clinic, where few patients came. After resting for three days, wandering around Quark County grew tedious. The exotic charm of this border town soon felt ordinary. Surgical data was slow to update, and the new system remained inaccessible. Zhang Fan forced himself to study textbooks daily; the practitioner’s exam was approaching after the New Year.

The wards were sparsely occupied. Li Liang, feeling bored, strolled over to chat with Zhang Fan. Unlike Zhang, who had established himself in surgery, Li Liang hadn’t earned much warmth from the senior doctors—neither cold nor welcoming. He figured chatting with Zhang Fan might pass the time.

The surgical outpatient clinic was half open. Fully open, the draft was biting cold; closed, the hospital leadership would complain. Seeing Zhang Fan reading, Li Liang didn’t want to disturb him and instead took a book to read opposite him. After a while, he asked, “Zhang, with the New Year coming up, are you going home this year?”

“Probably not. I’ll wait until the weather warms up,” Zhang Fan replied without looking up. He hadn’t studied well in college. Although he had the system, many fundamentals remained half-understood. Now, with food and shelter secure and work manageable, revisiting his textbooks brought him considerable progress.

Without the system’s aid, Zhang Fan found internal medicine, gynecology, and pediatrics especially challenging—he couldn’t remember what he had just seen. But there was no choice; he had to learn. Fortunately, clinical experience gave him a clearer understanding, allowing for targeted study.

Since the last time she saw Zhang Fan drive, Chen Lulu would call him now and then, much to his annoyance. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her; her perseverance was unwavering. Several times he ignored her calls, but she persisted.

At present, Zhang Fan had no thoughts of romance. He knew his own situation well: his sister was about to take the college entrance exam, the system’s demands were high, and the practitioner’s exam loomed. The pressure weighed heavily on him.

December deepened the cold. The hospital handed out a year-end bonus of over three thousand yuan. Batu called Zhang Fan into the office again and gave him an additional two thousand yuan.

Zhang Fan decided not to return home for the New Year. The trip would take over ten days, so he opted to wait until after the exams.

With the bonus, Zhang Fan went shopping to buy clothes for his family to be mailed back. His elderly parents would never spend the money on themselves, so he chose to send the clothes directly. He also wired three thousand yuan to his sister, who was under great pressure from studies. He refused to let her scrimp on essentials.

Kang Hua’s treatment was nearing the end of a course—it would finish in about a week. Over these ten days, Zhang Fan had become familiar with Kang’s secretary, Tang Jingjing. She was a pleasant person, lacking any airs often found in leadership secretaries. Occasionally, she teased Zhang Fan. Originally, Zhang Fan had planned to go to the city’s Xinhua Bookstore on the weekend to buy exam materials, but then he received a call from Secretary Tang.

“Can you go to the city on Saturday? Our leader is going home this week, so we need you to go for treatment. Should I ask the leader to inform Director Ba?”

“No need. I’m off duty this week and can go to the city,” Zhang Fan replied.

Zhang Fan had passed through the city once when he first arrived but never returned. Unfamiliar with the route and reluctant to spend money on the shuttle bus, especially since he loved driving, he sought a guide. The hospital wouldn’t help, and he didn’t know many people, so he asked, “Director Tang, are you going back to the city on Friday?”

“I’m going on Saturday. The leader returns in the morning; I have some work and will go back in the afternoon,” Tang Jingjing said. Her home was in the city.

“In that case, why don’t we go together? You can show me the way—I’m not familiar with the city and might get lost.”

“Haha, you’re worried about that? The city isn’t that big. Alright, come to the government office Saturday afternoon, and we’ll take the bus together.” She didn’t yet know Zhang Fan had a car.

Having arranged this, Zhang Fan drove to refuel. The fuel card given by Batu was only valid at a designated station in the county; he couldn’t refuel elsewhere.