Chapter Five: The Busy Young Doctor

After experiencing the ferocity of the local white spirits yesterday, Zhang Fan felt like he would rather die than drink another drop; he simply could not handle it. When faced with his superiors urging him to drink, he found it difficult to refuse, but those young ethnic minority women were no match for Zhang Fan’s tactics. He unleashed a barrage of nonstop chatter, acting like a nagging monk, until the young woman—annoyed by his incessant rambling—eventually downed his bowl of liquor herself. She then walked away toward the next guest with a look of utter disdain.

Of course, her disdain could not affect Zhang Fan’s appetite; he just kept eating and eating. Among the grassland people, everyone seemed capable of singing and dancing. The Mongolian girls not only sang, but when they were in high spirits, they would pull guests up to dance. While others were listening to the music, Zhang Fan was eating; while they were dancing, Zhang Fan was still eating.

The Mongolian girls looked at Zhang Fan’s bucket-like capacity with even more contempt and didn't invite him to dance, which suited Zhang Fan just fine.

It was normal for a young man to have a healthy appetite, but Zhang Fan had already polished off a lamb leg and a lamb tail, not to mention a significant amount of chicken and beef. He ate a large portion of every dish. The system that had bonded with him had strengthened his body, though not to an outlandish degree.

As his physical exertion increased, his caloric intake rose accordingly, and his digestion accelerated. If he didn't consume energy, his intake would naturally decrease. This was a protective mechanism programmed for the future scientist, as the medical profession was inherently exhausting.

When Zhang Fan finally felt full and set down his chopsticks, the third round of silver-bowl toasts was already underway. Jumabieke was already intoxicated; even his girlfriend couldn't hold him back as he insisted on sharing a cup of wine with a Mongolian girl. He would likely be in for a rough time from his girlfriend once he sobered up.

While Zhang Fan sipped tea and watched the performance, he noticed Director Batu observing the room.

Thinking for a moment, Zhang Fan picked up his teacup and walked over. He had learned during his years as a street vendor that one must respect those in power before one becomes powerful oneself. He sat cross-legged beside the director. In the frontier province, there was a custom that drinks consumed standing up didn't count, so toasts were generally made while seated—a rather considerate rule. "Director, I’d like to apologize to you with tea instead of wine. You hosted a welcome banquet for us yesterday, and I ended up making a fool of myself." Whether he meant it or not, he had to show the right attitude.

"Haha, Zhang Fan, it’s no shame for a man to get drunk; the shame is in not being able to drink at all. You need to improve your stamina in the future. Among the university graduates who came, you’re the only one from a 211 university, so you should be setting an example, don't you think? I'll let you off the hook today; I'll share a cup of tea with you. I have high hopes for you." He patted Zhang Fan on the shoulder and clinked his teacup against Zhang Fan’s. Zhang Fan responded with feigned trepidation, promising that he would follow the director’s lead toward a bright future!

Many people were lining up to toast the director. After Zhang Fan exchanged a few words and a cup of tea, he quickly vacated his spot for those waiting. Batu’s words were like a breeze passing by—they didn't leave a mark on Zhang Fan’s heart; they were just empty pleasantries.

Over the weekend, the first day was spent in a drunken stupor, and by the second day, no one had the energy to do anything. They soaked in the grassland hot springs for half a day before heading home. On Monday, the university graduates and the various department heads met in the director's office once again.

Today was the day for departmental assignments. In a small hospital, assignments were entirely at the director’s discretion. Batu considered the students' preferences, their physical constitutions, and their performance over the past two days. For example, Li Hui’s girlfriend, Wang Sha, wanted to go to Obstetrics and Gynecology, but her frail, bean-sprout physique couldn't handle the strain, so Batu assigned her to Pediatrics. Jumabieke, a Kazakh, was assigned to the Emergency Department because he could communicate easily with the local ethnic minorities and had an outgoing personality. Li Hui went to Internal Medicine, and Zhang Fan was assigned to the Second Department of Surgery.

The Second Department of Surgery covered Orthopedics and Neurosurgery. The department head, Nur, was fifty-three years old and a senior associate physician in orthopedics. He led Zhang Fan back to the department.

During the morning briefing, he introduced Zhang Fan to everyone: Deputy Head Shi Lei, a neurosurgery attending physician in his forties; Tushun, a senior associate in neurosurgery who was slightly older than Shi Lei; Chen Qifa, an orthopedic resident in his forties who still lacked a medical license; and Head Nurse Guli, who was in her forties and quite pretty, though a bit plump. Among Uyghur women, if one didn't get plump after marriage, it implied her husband wasn't capable and life was difficult, so it was common for them to gain weight.

Although the hospital had taken them out to play for the past two days, Zhang Fan hadn't neglected his studies in the system. With good food and ample energy, he had finished the fundamentals of surgery and completed half of his trauma orthopedics training.

Zhang Fan had his own strategy. In a county-level hospital, trauma was the most common orthopedic case. Joint replacements were rare, and even if they occurred, he wouldn't be allowed to perform them, so he focused on trauma orthopedics first.

Although he learned within the system, the system had requirements: each subject required a certain number of practical applications in real life before one could advance to the next level. The required numbers were daunting; for instance, he needed three hundred cases of wound suturing before he could move on to tendon suturing, followed by nerve and vascular suturing. It was a step-by-step process.

After a week of familiarization, Zhang Fan couldn't sit still and began running to the Emergency Department frequently. A week had passed, and his own department hadn't performed a single surgery; the patients were few and far between, mostly people faking illness or those involved in fights who were just looking for compensation. There wasn't a single legitimate surgical case.

No surgery meant no practical application, which prevented him from advancing to higher-level training. Heaven knows if the system might suddenly disappear one day. For the sake of his future happiness, Zhang Fan seized every opportunity to perform actual procedures, even at the cost of his pride.

He didn't just go to the Emergency Department; he also snuck into the First Department of Surgery to help with general surgeries. The First Department saw plenty of gallbladder and appendectomy cases. If it weren't for the fact that the hospital’s OB-GYN department had no male doctors, he would have even volunteered to help with C-sections.

Nur, the head of the Second Department of Surgery, was Kazakh. Nearing retirement, he spent his mornings attending the briefing and then went off to drink, leaving everything else alone. The deputy head, Shi Lei, was in neurosurgery and found it hard to reprimand someone from orthopedics, especially since Zhang Fan wasn't technically skipping work. Meanwhile, Chen Qifa could only grumble to himself as he watched Zhang Fan running around—after all, he didn't even have a license to practice.

And so, whenever there was no work in his own department, Zhang Fan would go to others to find tasks, often fighting to do them.

"Teacher, you take a break; I'll handle this small task," he would say in the Emergency Department.

"Director, could you take a look and see how my suturing is? Is it smooth? Are the edges aligned?" he would ask on the operating table during an appendectomy in his own department.

With his honeyed tongue and diligence, the directors of the Emergency Department and the First Department grew fond of Zhang Fan. This infuriated Guo Qiliang, who had been assigned to the First Department, but he couldn't compete with this guy. You’d be suturing, and Zhang Fan would finish faster and more beautifully than the director, yet he’d act humble and ask for guidance. Was he a drama queen, or was he here to show everyone up? Zhang Fan ignored Guo Qiliang’s resentful stares; he had no choice—he needed to rack up his practical applications as soon as possible. All he could say was, "I'm sorry."