Super Doctor - Chapter 57

Despite having eaten and drunk his fill, Xu Ze felt oddly deflated as he headed to work that evening. One thought kept circling his mind: Being Miss Sun’s boyfriend—even temporarily—was a terrifying prospect.

Last time, just her visit to the soccer field had sparked an “interrogation” by his three self-proclaimed “sworn brothers”—Luo Zi, Gang Zi, and Fatso—who’d cornered him the moment he returned to the dorm.

And these were his closest friends. If word got out now that he was Sun Lingfei’s “boyfriend”? Luo Zi’s crew might just “educate” him with their version of “family discipline.” But if others found out? The collective resentment of thousands could crush his slender frame.

Sure, he had his trusty scalpel—a formidable tool—but as the saying went: “Easy to dodge a spear in the open, hard to avoid an arrow in the dark.” Even if only 20-30% of those thousands held grudges, a well-placed trip at the wrong moment could ruin him. Why invite that trouble?

“Sun Lingfei’s kind and beautiful, but being her boyfriend? That’s a wasp’s nest only the thickest-skinned should poke.” Xu Ze rubbed his temples, feeling none of the triumph one might expect from “winning” such a beauty.

But what’s done was done. All he could hope was that after helping her shake off that clingy pest, no further complications would arise.

Shaking off the thoughts, Xu Ze refocused. The clinic was getting busy, no time to daydream.

…

After assisting Nurse Luo with injections, Xu Ze settled in the consultation room, ready to support Dr. Zhang during the rush.

Almost immediately, a patient hobbled in, groaning. Xu Ze’s eyebrows lifted. A trauma case: a 10-centimeter gash on the left calf, bleeding freely.

The clinic had never handled trauma cases before, but with Zhao Qilong now onboard, they’d added the specialty. Hopefully, he’s competent enough for this straightforward wound.

Dr. Zhang barely glanced up. “Dr. Zhao, handle this.”

Zhao Qilong smiled. After days of routine cases, here was his chance to shine. Passing his current patient to Dr. Zhang, he ordered Xu Ze: “Help the patient to the treatment room. We’ll clean the wound.”

Xu Ze nodded, supporting the patient alongside their companion.

Minor debridement and suturing were usually solo tasks, but Zhao clearly wanted to assert authority. As Xu Ze turned to leave after settling the patient, Zhao scoffed:

“Xu Ze, trauma cases are rare. As an intern, you should initiate learning—whether it’s internal medicine or trauma. Must I spell out every step? Clean the wound.”

Xu Ze’s brow twitched, but he didn’t argue. Interns were meant to assist. And for his monthly stipend, he’d do the work.

Without waiting for further instruction, he masked up, grabbed saline, forceps, and gauze, and began irrigating the wound—his fluid motions leaving no opening for Zhao’s planned “teaching moment.”

Zhao’s eyes narrowed. How’s this third-year so proficient?

“Let’s see you mess up,” he thought, smirking. But Xu Ze flawlessly transitioned from saline to hydrogen peroxide, then to antiseptic, as if he’d done this countless times.

When Xu Ze finished without a single error, Zhao’s smirk vanished.

“Proceed. Disinfect and drape,” he snapped.

Xu Ze frowned. “You’re the trauma specialist, Dr. Zhao. Should I suture for you too?”

“This is training,” Zhao retorted. “Others would kill for this chance.”

Xu Ze shrugged. Fine. His recent battlefield first-aid training—plus those mysteriously ingrained memories—meant even Zhao’s mentor might not surpass him. Bring it on.

He prepped the sterile kit, re-disinfected with iodophor, and donned gloves with textbook precision. Laying the fenestrated drape over the calf, he met Zhao’s gaze.

“Shall I suture as well, Doctor?”

Zhao’s face darkened. No flaws. Not one.

“Ahem. Good… but the critical steps are my duty,” he blustered. “Assist me.”

Xu Ze smirked but complied. Let Zhao save face—for now.

Yet as Zhao injected anesthetic with practiced ease and ligated bleeding vessels swiftly, Xu Ze conceded inwardly: The man’s skilled. Most trauma surgeons took years to reach this fluidity. For a one-year graduate? Impressive.

If the student’s this capable, Xu Ze mused, his mentor Zhang Ziqi’s “Orthopedic Sage” title might be legit.