Chapter 42

"Sure, Master, I'm free. Nine-thirty, right? I can definitely finish ward rounds by eight-thirty." Fang Ziye had just gotten home when Yuan Weihong called, saying he had a consultation surgery tomorrow, Sunday, and asking if Fang Ziye would go.

How could Fang Ziye not go?

An attending like Yuan Weihong, though he doesn't stand out at Zhongnan Hospital and feels his ability isn't top-tier, would at least be comparable to a deputy chief physician or even some chief physicians if placed in an ordinary prefecture-level hospital.

This isn't an exaggeration.

There are surgeries some prefecture-level chief physicians can do that Yuan Weihong might not, but many prefecture-level hospital chief physicians wouldn't do or wouldn't dare do the surgeries Yuan Weihong can do.

High throw standard — that's a benchmark for reliable in-house staff at a top-tier Grade-A hospital.

What's a high throw standard? It means during your attending years, your ability must be sufficient to handle an associate professor's duties, ready for promotion at any time — that's a high throw standard. Otherwise, you'll rack your brains and still can't out-compete others, and you have to keep research advancing in parallel.

Fang Ziye happened not to be staying in the lab, and happened to go to bed early.

The next day, filled with anticipation, Fang Ziye arrived at the ward at seven, finished his rounds on his own, then changed his own patients' medical orders, and sent a message to his fellow trainee Jie Han, detailing the dressing change times for the patients under his care and the wound photos recorded during Friday and Saturday rounds.

Have Jie Han show them to attending Qin Geluo, who has lower seniority and will do morning rounds on the weekend, so everything has a safety net.

Wounds good, healing good, patient condition good — superiors will definitely rest assured and won't make trouble. Naturally, Fang Ziye also recorded the inflammatory markers from blood draws, photographed them, and sent them to Jie Han; Jie Han basically doesn't need to think, just compile the report for his assigned beds.

At eight-thirty, Fang Ziye arrived downstairs at the residential complex where his teacher Yuan Weihong lived, then sent a message: "Master, want me to pack you a breakfast?"

Surgery at nine-thirty, naturally they had to leave early — it wasn't a surgery at their own hospital.

"What are you eating?" Yuan Weihong asked back.

"Steamed buns." Fang Ziye sent a photo; the steamer basket was still steaming white vapor.

"Bring two, plus a fried dough stick and a cup of soy milk. I'll transfer you the money." Yuan Weihong finished speaking and transferred twenty yuan.

Fang Ziye didn't stand on ceremony either, knowing Yuan Weihong was going out for a consultation surgery today — the flying knife fee should be considerable.

And the money wasn't much, so he decisively accepted it.

Then Yuan Weihong drove out of the garage, reached the complex entrance, and yielded the driver's seat to Fang Ziye; with phone navigation, the two headed for Pizhou.

Pizhou Hospital of Traditional Chinese Medicine — that was where the two were going for the consultation.

Fang Ziye drove very steadily, not daring to be careless; after Yuan Weihong drank once before, Fang Ziye had driven him home, so now Fang Ziye occasionally gets to test-drive Yuan Weihong's BMW — not expensive, but thirty-some thousand six years ago wasn't cheap either.

"Master, what surgery are we doing later?" Fang Ziye asked curiously.

Only this way could he ponder what he might manage to do, gaining some knowledge points without affecting patient prognosis or surgical quality.

"It's a bone transport surgery." Yuan Weihong dropped a bombshell right off the bat.

Fang Ziye's mouth corners twitched a few times — this was too high-end.

Bone transport surgery is a ceiling technique in trauma orthopedics; the only difference is proficiency, but even the simplest full bone transport procedure, Fang Ziye couldn't pull off — at most he could pick up bits and pieces at the margins.

During bone transport, the bone shaft must be severed while preserving periosteal integrity. During bone distraction, the periosteum lengthens along with it; stimulated by tensile stress, osteoblasts on the periosteum proliferate, generating new bone.

This is the surgical principle.

"Master, Junior Sister Luo is set on staying at the hospital, and I can't persuade her otherwise — it affects someone's future, after all." Fang Ziye didn't dare reply on professional matters, so he answered Yuan Weihong's earlier question this way.

"Mm, Professor Deng and I both already knew. A few days ago, we had Yan Zhiming inquire about it."

"Tingzhu's family situation is quite complex; her parents divorced and each remarried. She's a child from before the divorce, connected to neither. As an adult, her exam scores were good; originally her parents hoped she'd enter a tuition-free normal student program."

"But Tingzhu herself wasn't willing, so she applied to our school's eight-year program with good scores. But tuition — all funded by her grandma. Two years ago, her grandma passed away."

"Since then, Tingzhu basically hasn't gone home, not even for New Year — seems she doesn't want to go back." Yuan Weihong gnawed a bun, drank soy milk, enjoying his master's student's dedicated chauffeur service, mood delightful.

Hearing this, Fang Ziye asked: "The eight-year program is already short; trying to catch up to normal eleven-year PhD senior brothers in both research accumulation and professional accumulation during this period still has difficulty, right?"

"Surgery's fine; if she went to internal medicine, that crowd of academic PhD students would involute people to despair — no way around it."

"And on Professor Deng's side, there are already super many PhD students; although Tingzhu doesn't occupy a quota, project funds aren't enough either."

"I don't have extra to give her either — she can only rely on herself."

"I'm not like last year or the year before, taking out part of my project funds for Professor Deng's PhDs to do experiments — I have my own students now." Yuan Weihong expressed his attitude neither confirming nor denying.

Meaning: kid, don't think just because you became Professor Deng Yong's PhD you've broken free; you haven't fully witnessed your master's awesomeness yet.

Having projects is being the boss — Fang Ziye understood this long ago.

"Master, project quantity and funding — never too much. In the PhD stage, my clinical time won't be as much as before; I see they're all applying for university-level and provincial/municipal-level projects, and I want to try too." Fang Ziye said this.

"Sure, if you can get money, you won't fear not finishing experiments."

"Our lab has plenty of people to do experiments for you, as long as you can secure the funding. And you and Jie Han don't conflict — he applies for master's stage, you apply for PhD stage."

"As long as you get the money, your master has ways to get you to project completion." Yuan Weihong straightened his posture.

Getting a project isn't simple, but being able to get one — that's badass.

If you can land a project while still a student, later when applying for the National Natural Science Foundation of China Youth Fund, others will look and think: oh, this person completed project closure as a student — giving him money is definitely reliable.

This is a kind of accumulation, also a resume; pad your resume thick, others rest assured, and it increases your own gold content.

"Master, then I'll try to work on a very, very small direction." Fang Ziye replied like this.

"Mm."

"You — didn't notice before. You're actually a good hand at experiments and research; should've known to switch you to an academic master's." Yuan Weihong turned his head left and right.

"Today's buns are good, beef filling, right?"

"Mm, Master."

"Actually my clinical operation isn't bad, right?" Fang Ziye hurriedly brought it up — don't wait until later you only see my research talent and let me just watch by the operating table without letting me do anything, that'd be too nerve-wracking.

"Passable, middle-of-the-road, a bit better than average, but slightly lacking compared to those top-tier geniuses."

"But it's fine too." Yuan Weihong had seen it all.

(Chapter End)