Super Doctor - Chapter 58

In under ten minutes, Zhao Qilong had ligated two small blood vessels, sutured a dozen stitches, aligned the skin edges, and dressed the wound. He exhaled with quiet pride. While such debridement and suturing were child’s play for him, today’s procedure had been flawless—even efficient by his standards.

Beside him, Xu Ze gave an inward nod. Not bad at all. The guy’s genuinely skilled.

Amid the patient’s effusive thanks, Zhao waved a magnanimous hand. “Get your injection now. Remember to return for a dressing change tomorrow…”

From his corner, Dr. Zhang observed with approving nods. My old friend’s disciple doesn’t disappoint. That long, vascular gash handled so swiftly? Impressive. The clinic’s services had just expanded. His gaze warmed when it landed on Zhao.

Xu Ze remained indifferent. He had no interest in competing; as a “trainee doctor” here merely to cover living expenses, doing his job was enough.

Then came the call that spelled trouble.

Sun Lingfei’s voice crackled through the phone: “It blew up in my face.”

Dinner with the “Human Leech” had been a disaster. Flattered by her rare acceptance of his invitation, the pest had mistaken it for surrender—until she dropped the “fake boyfriend” bomb. Enraged, he’d vowed to meet this “rival” who dared steal her affection. “Some student brat? I’ll crush him.”

The meal ended with Sun nearly flipping the table. Now she demanded Xu Ze accompany her tomorrow to “settle this.”

Xu Ze rubbed his nose, lamenting the universe’s unfairness. How did I get dragged into this?

The absurdity grated. A simple act of kindness—rescuing the campus belle—had backfired spectacularly. One free meal, and now I’m collateral damage?

Pushing his half-eaten dinner aside, Xu Ze noticed Zhao storming back into the clinic, his earlier cheer replaced by a thunderous scowl. The man gripped an ECG Analysis textbook so tightly his knuckles whitened.

Xu Ze blinked. What crawled up his ass? Outwardly, he feigned concern while privately reveling in schadenfreude. Maybe his online date turned out to be a dude who roofied him? Karma’s a bitch.

With fewer evening patients, Dr. Zhang dismissed the sulking Zhao early. Soon, only teacher and apprentice remained.

Between consultations, both buried themselves in books. Xu Ze admired how the sixty-year-old doctor still devoured medical journals—a habit that cemented his reputation. “Learn till old, practice till old” indeed.

Xu Ze mirrored the discipline. Though his implanted future knowledge dwarfed current medicine, bridging the gap was essential. No use citing theories that’d earn me “nonsense” from examiners.

…

Their reading was interrupted by a returning patient—one Zhao had treated two days prior for fever. The man brightened upon not seeing Zhao. “Dr. Zhang, you must figure this out. The fever keeps spiking!”

“Still febrile?” Dr. Zhang frowned, instructing Xu Ze to take the temperature.

As the thermometer beeped, the old doctor examined the throat and auscultated heart-lungs. His frown deepened at the reading: 39°C. “Throat inflammation’s resolved. Why such high fever?”

The patient paled at his confusion. “The antipyretics work briefly, then it rebounds. I can’t take this!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll solve it.” Dr. Zhang stroked his wispy beard, repeating a thorough exam—lymph nodes, heart, liver, spleen—but found nothing.

Xu Ze activated X-ray vision, scanning the same areas. No anomalies. Baffling.

“May I try?” he offered.

Dr. Zhang agreed eagerly. Xu Ze’s meticulousness often caught overlooked clues.

Throat? Normal. Heart-lungs? Clear. No muscle tenderness except mild conjunctival injection.

Xu Ze’s fingers pressed the patient’s wrist as he commanded internally: “Run CBC analysis.”

A beep. His ring extended a micro-needle, painlessly piercing the skin.

Two seconds later, his lens displayed:
[WBC: 0.8 | Neutrophils: 56% | Lymphocytes: 34%…]