Chapter 1350: 1310 Zheng Lao Ban Is Good

A few minutes later, Director Kong ambled in to start work.

From afar, he saw Zhou Chun Yong. His waist slightly bent, forming a 5-degree angle, giving off a very cautious demeanor.

Director Kong paused, surprised—there was no one in front of Zhou Chun Yong; what was he doing?

Could his eyes be playing tricks, not seeing anyone?

He rubbed his eyes hard, yet still saw no one before Zhou Chun Yong.

Damn it, what's wrong—did Zhou Chun Yong fake a corpse this morning or stir up ghosts by dancing on a grave?

Director Kong, somewhat surprised, walked over. Zhou Chun Yong caught sight of him, smiled, and greeted, "Director Kong, long time no see."

"Director Zhou, what are you—?"

"Waiting for Zheng Lao Ban." Zhou Chun Yong smiled warmly, as if he had completely forgotten that it was Director Kong who had backed him, and that he himself had been in such a difficult situation.

Director Kong wore a smile, but sighed inwardly.

Look at others—no wonder Old Fifth Zhu is struggling to breathe. The Di Du Liver and Gallbladder department, so far away, yet rushing over to find Zheng Lao Ban.

Never mind their skill—just that nose, more useful than a dog's, putting on a fawning, groveling posture; I couldn't even do that.

"Director Zhou, please come inside; standing outside is improper." Director Kong said politely.

"No, no." Zhou Chun Yong hurriedly refused, "Zheng Lao Ban will see the patient; even if he finishes his shift late, he'll come out. My patients are ready and waiting for Zheng Lao Ban, so I won't disturb him."

"Then another day." Director Kong didn't stand on ceremony, gave Zhou Chun Yong a slight nod and smile, hands behind his back, and walked in.

Watching Director Kong's retreating back, Zhou Chun Yong felt deeply moved. His own ill fortune had brought him to this.

If I hadn't gone abroad for that conference, had come over to take a look, who knows—Zheng Lao Ban might have been poached to the Di Du Liver and Gallbladder department.

Given Zheng Lao Ban's talent and my own overbearing style, Zhu Liangchen that scoundrel has already lost his armor and can't continue.

But that's all in the past; overthinking it is pointless.

Zhou Chun Yong still maintained a respectful posture, standing like a disciple in the snow at the entrance of the Intervention Department, ignoring the gazes of passersby.

Several minutes later, Zheng Renhe and Su Yun rushed out.

Seeing his posture, Zheng Ren gave a wry smile, hurried forward a few steps, and said, "Director Zhou, sorry for the wait."

"Are the patients stable?" Zhou Chun Yong asked with a smile.

"Hmm, nothing much. Recently this batch of patients was discharged, so we're resting for two days." Zheng Ren said while walking downstairs with Zhou Chun Yong.

"Rest for two days?"

"We need to go to Keerqin to do two surgeries." Zheng Ren answered offhand.

"That far—too tiring, right?" Zhou Chun Yong couldn't understand.

Doing Flying Knife procedures, the bigger the city the better. But ordinary professors from the capital aren't usually invited to second-tier provincial capitals for Flying Knife—only nationally renowned ones are.

Third-tier cities are the best targets for Flying Knife.

They can invite provincial-capital professors for surgery, and also top professors from the capital and Modu. The key is that somewhat better third-tier cities have high per‑capita income—one trip brings in a windfall.

Patients and their families save on travel expenses—just one or two ten‑thousand yuan solves the problem. A professor on a single trip might do two or three surgeries; if more, spread over two days, ten or eight surgeries, cash stuffed in big bags.

Everyone benefits, and all is harmonious.

But Keerqin—what kind of place is this? It seems to be a national‑level impoverished county.

Just hearing the name, Zhou Chun Yong pictured cattle and sheep grazing as the wind blew the grass low.

Is the per‑capita income really high?

They say they're worth millions, but the livestock don't count.

The herders do have money, but it's all in cattle, sheep, and other livestock. In a good year they can really make a fortune; but if they hit a natural disaster or plague, they lose everything.

Surely they've prepared thirty or fifty patients there, and Zheng Lao Ban will openly perform surgeries for two days.

Thinking of this, Zhou Chun Yong felt a twinge of envy.

"Zheng Lao Ban, are there many patients over there? Or should I come along to learn?" Zhou Chun Yong asked tentatively.

"Director Zhou, what are you thinking?" Su Yun said on the side, "These aren't round numbers—there are just two patients. That place isn't a hepatitis B hotspot, so no matter how you look, there won't be many."

Zhou Chun Yong was stunned.

A round trip of two or three days—for just two patients?

Squeezing the bone dry yields only twenty thousand yuan—not even worth the hassle. Compare that to giving a lecture in the capital, where Zheng Lao Ban pockets tens of millions before even showing up in the morning.

Thinking of this, Zhou Chun Yong felt a surge of passion, then grew confused.

"Director Zhou, if I say something lofty, the boss is just trying to heal and save people." Seeing Zhou Chun Yong's expression, Su Yun smiled and said, "He's got a screw loose—don't mind him."

"……" These days, hardly anyone talks about healing and saving people.

Even if one harbors ideals inside… saying that out loud would be as shameful as it gets.

But Su Yun said that, and Zhou Chun Yong found himself actually believing it.

He glanced at Zheng Ren, gave a wry smile, and said, "Zheng Lao Ban truly lives up to the name of a skillful and compassionate healer."

"He's got a screw loose."

"If you're so capable, why don't you go?" Zheng Ren retorted without even looking at Su Yun.

"Impossible!" Su Yun said, "What if you get lost—should I go accept the Nobel Prize for you?"

Saying that, she got into Zhou Chun Yong's car.

If only Inner Mongolia were better, Zhou Chun Yong thought. What he lacks now is the chance to watch and perform surgeries—anything unclear, he could just ask Zheng Lao Ban.

Although Zheng Lao Ban is young, he doesn't hoard knowledge—he tells you straight; otherwise there wouldn't be any teaching sessions.

Too bad there are too few patients and the road is too far—making the trip seems unsuitable. Zhou Chun Yong felt torn, driving slowly through the capital's morning rush until he reached the Di Du Liver and Gallbladder department.

He got out of the car, arrived at Intervention Department One, and Zhou Chun Yong respectfully ushered Zheng Renrang inside.

The gate of the Intervention Department was closed.

Possibly it was early rounds, when visitors aren't allowed. Seeing the closed iron gate, Zheng Ren pondered.

Many hospitals have restricted visiting hours; during morning rounds, the rooms are filled with too many patient relatives, leaving doctors nowhere to stand—this is far too informal.

But the Intervention Department of 912 has no such rule; Director Kong basically lets each Team-leading Professor do as they please.

Director Zhou still has quite a dignified presence, huh; Zheng Ren smiled.

In the hallway outside the ward, patient relatives were noisily chatting; when they saw Zhou Chun Yong, their clamor gradually faded like a receding tide.

Zhou Chun Yong was very satisfied; this batch of patient relatives were still quite sensible.

Amid silence and countless gazes, Zheng Ren walked to the ward entrance; so many people staring at me—how weird.

Zhou Chun Yong opened the ward's big door with his fingerprint.

The heavy iron door made no sound, smoothly opening a gap.

Inside, two rows of people in White Coats stretched out of sight.

Hello, Zheng Lao Ban.

As if rehearsed, the uniform shout startled Zheng Ren.