Chapter 100: 0098 Every Kind Person Is Warm

The snow outside isn't heavy, but it freezes on the ground; bicycles can't even stand upright, so the delivery riders can't deliver meals. Consequently, all the shut-ins in Hai Cheng will go hungry today.

Inside the operating room, Xie Yiren wailed, having nothing good to eat, and her world grew dark.

Zheng Ren smiled; fortunately, he wasn't interested in food. He wasn't really hungry either, and if he had a moment later, he could go to the cafeteria and grab a bite of dinner.

Leaving the operating room, he went to the emergency ward on the second floor and saw Chang Yue sitting by the office window, watching the snow.

He had originally wanted to take Chang Yue to check the interrogation room, but seeing her watching the snow, Zheng Ren thought he shouldn't spoil the mood; waiting a few minutes wouldn't hurt.

Girls generally like romance, and Chang Yue, being that sort of person, was no exception, Zheng Ren thought to himself.

He walked to the desk, about to sit down, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of Chang Yue's profile.

The corners of her eyes seemed a little damp, as if she had just shed tears.

"Chang Yue, what's wrong?" Zheng Ren asked.

"Nothing." Chang Yue turned around; that hint of gloom vanished without a trace, and she returned to the Chang Yue Zheng Ren knew.

"If you have something to say, go ahead; maybe I can help." Zheng Ren said offhandedly, already seated at the desk and opening Hepatobiliary Pancreatic Surgery.

I was just making polite conversation—surely we wouldn't sit face‑to‑face without talking? That would be too awkward.

Chang Yue's expression relaxed a little, then she came and sat formally opposite Zheng Ren, her face solemn.

"Um… are you going to accuse Su Yun? It seems like last night you got him drunk as a skunk, didn't you?" Zheng Ren thought to himself.

Zheng Ren thought to himself.

"Chief Zheng, I have something to tell you—see if there's a way to resolve it." Chang Yue said.

Zheng Ren felt a faint bitterness in his mouth; surely it wouldn't be anything good.

"I've clarified the medical history of the patient with gangrenous appendicitis." Chang Yue said: "He never mentioned his former identity, but I suspect he came from the military."

Zheng Ren felt a stir inside; he finally looked away from Hepatobiliary Pancreatic Surgery and leaned in to listen.

"He had no money; a few days ago he was doing odd jobs at a building‑materials market, carrying tiles. Up to the sixteenth floor, the elevator was broken, so he shouldered the load step by step. But when it came time to settle payment, the landlord claimed the tiles were damaged and demanded compensation. After a brief argument, the landlord collapsed, saying he'd been hit by him." Chang Yue's voice grew ever fainter, as if she might vanish any second.

Zheng Ren sighed inwardly; human affairs are truly hard to predict. That man's frame was broad; even if he was skin and bone, you could still see a trace of his former self. Before falling ill, he had definitely been a tiger of a man.

If he laid hands on someone, Zheng Ren believed, one punch could kill a small‑time landlord in the city—no doubt about it.

"Later he didn't get his wages; instead, he took the little cash he had left for food and used it to pay compensation." Chang Yue continued: "Then he drifted for a while, his stomach started hurting, after which he fainted and was picked up by Yan Zhi."

So that's how it was; Zheng Ren sorted everything out through Chang Yue's words.

That man's physical condition could be called top‑notch; his recovery speed was extremely fast—you could tell from the post‑op monitoring, and he didn't even show the usual post‑operative heat absorption.

In such a situation, either the patient's physique is extremely poor, so his internal immune system can't respond at all, or his physique is exceptionally good.

The patient before us is definitely the latter.

"By the way, after he passed gas, did he eat?" Zheng Ren felt a twinge and asked.

He'd been busy with resuscitation, having no time to check on post‑op patients; those tasks were all Chang Yue's.

"Four hours after surgery, the patient had already passed gas." Chang Yue said: "Today I gave him 1000 ml of 10% sugar solution as an energy supplement. At noon I fed him a bowl of congee with some pickled vegetables."

Zheng Ren smiled; every kind soul is warm-hearted.

"What do you want to tell me?"

"He's a self‑reliant person; I have no connections, and I don't know if Chief Zheng can find him a job to make a living." Chang Yue said, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.

That's too saintly.

Working in the hospital, one becomes accustomed to life and death; if one's heart were always overflowing with saintly compassion, one would have starved to death long ago.

Responsibility for this should have fallen to the welfare department, but at some point it got dumped on the hospital. The hospital often waives fees for indigent patients, and when they can't afford food, medical staff voluntarily buy them meals—this happens all the time.

However, Zheng Ren did not find Chang Yue's request excessive.

That man is a strong one—no doubt about it.

When faced with injustice, Zheng Ren could sense the man's inner turmoil and anger deep down.

Yet he suppressed his emotions, preferring to suffer a loss himself rather than actually strike that landlord.

In the end he let ordinary appendicitis progress to perforation, and then to gangrenous appendicitis.

He really is a tough guy.

Zheng Ren tapped his fingers lightly on the table, recalling his network of contacts, wondering who could get it done.

Soon he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Liu Ge, it's me, Zheng Ren."

"Mm‑hm, there's this thing—a pretty capable guy—could you find him a job at your place?"

"No special requests—just give him some money, enough to eat, and that'll do for now."

"Thanks, thanks. If he ever causes you trouble later, feel free to fire him—no need to worry about me."

After a brief exchange, Zheng Ren hung up, chuckling, "All done."

Chang Yue was quite surprised.

In her view, such a matter was as hard as climbing to heaven, yet Zheng Ren settled it with a single phone call.

Chang Yue, who usually looks down on leaders—indeed, on all leaders—had her impression of Zheng Ren change.

Chief Zheng seemed not bad.

"What would he be doing?"

"Probably security work; I'm not exactly sure of the details, and we'd still need the patient's consent." Zheng Ren said.

Chang Yue's mood lifted, a rare smile appearing on her face, and even her black‑frame glasses reflected a few glints of sunlight that had filtered through the wind and snow.

"I'll talk to the patient's side; thank you, Chief Zheng." Chang Yue rose and sincerely thanked Zheng Ren.

"No need, hurry up and get back to work." Zheng Ren suddenly remembered he still had to write consultation and operation records for the pelvic‑fracture patient, and his head began to ache all at once.

Paperwork really drains one's energy.

Fortunately, Chang Yue is here; if every incoming patient meant I had to do the paperwork myself, I doubt I could see more than a few a day.

Watching Chang Yue walk away with light steps, Zheng Ren smiled, opened his computer, and began writing the Shou Bing record.

The WeChat group's notification sounded; Zheng Ren picked it up to see that Xie Yiren was asking in the group what everyone had for lunch.

The cafeteria seemed like the only option, but if there was any chance, Xie Yiren didn't want to eat there.

That wasn't food; it was basically slop.

Zheng Ren disagreed with Xie Yiren's view; the cafeteria's big-pot meals may lack flair, but they are generous and filling—one meal for one dollar, a benefit the hospital provides its staff.

The WeChat group's chat logs kept appearing; Xie Yiren and the Chu Family Sisters should have been chatting face-to-face on WeChat…

Information age, huh? Has everyone become like this? Zheng Ren sighed and shook his head.