I Am Diagnosed as a Medical Titan

In the surgical observation room of the Hepatobiliary Surgery Department at Nanshan Medical University Affiliated First Hospital.

Yang Xu had just finished a pancreaticoduodenectomy that had lasted seven long hours.

The patient was a retired high-ranking official from the province, with a complex condition and severe vascular anomalies.

The surgery had been mentally and physically draining.

"Old Yang, you still here?"

The door to the observation room was pushed open, and Liu Jianbang, the director of the Emergency Department, walked in.

"Just got out of surgery. Catching my breath."

Yang Xu walked to the window and pushed it open a crack.

He pulled a pack of Double Happiness cigarettes from his white coat pocket, tapped one out, then paused, and pushed it back in.

The hospital was in the middle of a heated "smoke-free department" competition, and he had to set an example.

"What’s up? Your ER not busy tonight?" Yang Xu asked, turning to face his old friend.

Liu Jianbang pulled out a chair and sat down. "Busy? Of course we’re busy. Just had someone brought in for drinking pesticide. We did a gastric lavage, and it got all over the floor."

He paused, then said, "But Old Yang, I came looking for you because something interesting happened. It’s related to your Medical University."

Yang Xu asked, "Did a student get into trouble?"

With doctor-patient tensions so high these days, it was common for clumsy interns to cause problems.

"Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually."

Liu Jianbang smacked his lips and said with a sigh, "We just brought in a young guy with a Tension Pneumothorax. You know what Old Wang from the ambulance crew told me?"

"What did he say?"

"He said that when he arrived on the scene, the patient already had a homemade water-seal drain inserted into his chest. The device looked crude, but the insertion point was incredibly precise. To prevent infection, Old Wang immediately replaced it with a proper closed-chest drainage system once they got here. But I took a look—the lung re-expansion is excellent. I reckon he’ll be able to have the tube removed and be discharged after three to five days of observation."

Hearing this, a flicker of surprise flashed in Yang Xu’s eyes.

Performing a pre-hospital emergency procedure like a one-way valve or a water-seal drain requires a solid theoretical foundation, and even more so, immense psychological fortitude and the ability to adapt on the spot.

Even a resident who’s done a full year of rotation in the ER might not dare to do it without the proper equipment on hand.

"Which one of our residents did it?" Yang Xu asked. "Was it Xiaozhang from general surgery? Or Zhao Bo from thoracic surgery?"

Liu Jianbang shook his head. "Neither of them."

"Then who was it?"

"Old Wang asked. The person said they were a student from Nanshan Medical University. Only a third-year."

"A third-year?"

Yang Xu blurted out instinctively, "How is that possible? Third-years have just started their clinical courses. They’ve barely even held a scalpel. How could one possibly dare to perform a thoracentesis?"

"It’s the absolute truth." Liu Jianbang sighed. "I’m baffled too. Are students these days all this gutsy? That’s why I came to ask you. Has your university produced some kind of prodigy?"

Yang Xu fell silent.

’A third-year...’

’If it really was a third-year student, just how solid would that kid’s foundation in anatomy and pathophysiology have to be?’

"This kid... what’s his name?" Yang Xu asked.

"He didn’t leave a name," Liu Jianbang said. "Old Wang said he was too busy moving the patient to ask. And now, the patient’s family is in the ER lobby, crying and insisting on kneeling, saying they must find their savior and give him a silk banner. It’s giving me a massive headache."

"Old Yang, I have to rely on you for this. Since he’s a student at your university, could you make a call and ask around?"

Yang Xu said, "Alright, I’ll look into it."

After seeing Liu Jianbang out, Yang Xu didn’t make the call right away.

He sat in his office chair, staring blankly at the rows of medical books.

For the past few years, he had been truly disappointed with the undergraduate students.

After the university expanded its enrollment, the quality of incoming students had become uneven.

There were those who texted in class, read novels, slept, or cheated on exams...

Even many of the graduate students who passed the entrance exams only knew how to cram from books and were clueless when it came to actual clinical practice.

That was why he had publicly announced at a hospital administration meeting that he would focus on mentoring doctoral students for the next few years and would no longer accept master’s or undergraduate students into his research group.

—Quality over quantity.

Those were his exact words.

But today’s story made him reflect.

’I shouldn’t generalize.’

In a school this large, there were bound to be some outstanding students.

Yang Xu picked up the receiver of his desk phone.

"Hello, this is Yang Xu."

"Oh, Professor Yang? What’s going on so late at night?" The person who answered was Zhang Zhiyuan, the Director of the Student Affairs Office at the Medical University Clinical Medical College.

"It’s nothing serious," Yang Xu said. "I’m just asking about something. Did any of our students save someone off-campus tonight?"

"Saved someone off-campus?"

Zhang Zhiyuan was taken aback for a moment, then said:

"Actually, I do know about that. There’s a post about it that’s gotten pretty popular on the campus BBS."

"Have you found out who it was?" Yang Xu asked.

"It took some effort, but we found him. It’s Jiang He from the ’06 cohort, Clinical Class 2."

"Jiang He..."

Yang Xu searched his memory for the name.

It was completely unfamiliar.

"How’s this student’s academic performance usually?"

"Uh... rather average," Zhang Zhiyuan said honestly. "His grades are middle-of-the-pack, and he doesn’t usually stand out. However, his advisor, Sun Jianguo, said that the kid seems to have had a sudden breakthrough recently. He’s been spending all his time in the library."

Yang Xu frowned.

’Average?’

’An average third-year dared to perform a thoracentesis? How is that possible?’

"Professor Yang, this matter... how do you think we should handle it?" Zhang Zhiyuan asked.

Yang Xu thought for a moment, then said, "Protect him. Don’t let that post on the BBS get bumped anymore. If any outside media comes for interviews, turn them all away. Just tell them ’no comment.’ As for the silk banner, have the Medical School accept it on his behalf. Don’t hold any kind of commendation ceremony, and don’t let him get public exposure."

On the other end of the line, Zhang Zhiyuan quickly agreed, "Yes, that’s what we were thinking too. The current public opinion climate is terrible. It’s definitely best to keep a low profile. That’s the best way to protect the student."

"However..." Yang Xu’s tone shifted. "Make a note of it in his file. We can’t let a promising talent with such courage and skill be overlooked. When it comes to the year-end awards and honors, give him what he deserves."

"Understood, we’ll make sure it’s done!" Zhang Zhiyuan agreed with a chuckle, then seemed to remember something. "By the way, Professor Yang, there’s a bit of a coincidence."

"What is it?"

"According to Sun Jianguo, this Jiang He seems to have signed up for the Clinical Pathology and Reasoning Competition."

Zhang Zhiyuan let out a sly chuckle on the other end.

"We checked the registration form. The intended advisor he listed... was your name."

Back in the observation room.

Yang Xu was stunned.

’He wants to join my group?’

’Interesting.’

"If he can pass the preliminary round, bring me his exam paper to look at," Yang Xu said.

"You got it! Your word is all I need!"

He hung up the phone.

Yang Xu stood up and stretched his stiff neck.

Today’s incident seemed to have dissipated much of his fatigue.

He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out a research proposal titled "Radical Resection of Hilar Cholangiocarcinoma."

He opened it.

The pages were densely covered with annotations in red ink, traces of his thoughts from countless late nights.

This research project had been stuck at a bottleneck for a long time.

’I’ll work on it again tonight. Maybe I’ll make some progress.’