Chapter 1801: 1739 Venting About My Wife (Alliance Leader Avera's Extra Chapter 1)

Today, 912 hosted the National Vascular Surgery Annual Conference.

The hosting duty rotates, because there is no consensus on which hospital is the strongest in national vascular surgery. It's like a martial arts conference—everyone takes turns hosting, and no one can dominate this.

Everyone's skill level is about the same, like Mao Chi, Director Mao of 912, and Sun Chao, Director Sun of the Medical University Affiliated Hospital, who were once classmates. Their talent, opportunities, and effort are all similar, and their eventual achievements are also similar.

In Modu, it's the same—no top-tier figure has emerged to dominate the academic field.

The conference started yesterday, and today we've moved into the tea talk session.

Several, or a dozen or so top-tier academic chiefs sat together, chatting idly, talking about random things, voicing some speculations they previously dared not utter, to see who has a better grasp of the future direction of technology.

The conversation was lively and cheerful.

There was no scheming, just a pure academic debate, not involving interests—this is the best kind of approach.

Moreover, during the formal meeting, as the host, the director of 912 Hospital spoke, and everyone couldn't relax.

Today, Vice President Yuan isn't here, so it's more casual.

They discussed the changes in vascular surgery over the past year, envisioned new technologies to be developed in the coming year, and after lunch they were still unwilling to leave.

Most people had left, leaving only six or seven directors from across the country still gathered together chatting.

"Director Mao, your skill hasn't dropped these past few years; on the contrary, it's steadily improved—you're truly a divine person." A provincial capital director from another province said this opportunistically, making Mao Chi happy.

If it were a few days ago, Mao Chi would surely have smiled and accepted this.

To maintain professional condition and still be able to perform high-level surgery in the later stages of one's career, it's impossible without paying a considerable price.

Keeping a pure mind and few desires is something that must be done.

One must avoid smoking and drinking; it's not an outright ban, but at the very least one should stay away from them as much as possible.

One must persist in exercising the body each day and look at electronic products less. As for things like TV dramas and novels, prolonged viewing does great damage to the eyes.

In the capital there's an old saying: "At forty-eight, go ahead and spend."

Mao Chi is already fifty-four, yet his eyesight hasn't deteriorated—one can say his self-care is truly good.

But,

That was the thinking a few days ago.

Since shouting for Zheng Lao Ban to go save the patient, Zheng Lao Ban decided with a single word, no longer attempting interventional surgery but going straight to open-chest surgery, Mao Chi also developed a certain doubt about his own technical level.

But this self-negation was deeply buried in his heart; once he starts doubting himself, there's no point in performing surgery.

Faced with unreserved praise, Mao Chi merely smiled and said, "Old chap, the future world belongs to you young people."

The young people he referred to did not include these directors present. As he said this, Mao Chi thought of only one person—the doctor from the Intervention Department, Zheng Lao Ban.

"Indeed, old chap. Director Mao, what do you usually do at home?" Director Sun Chao asked with a chuckle, unwilling to see others flatter Mao Chi without restraint, and inadvertently changed the subject.

"Watch the NBA, one game a day; any more and my eyes couldn't take it." Mao Chi laughed.

"Oh? One game a day? That's so regular."

"Well, I also don't listen to the commentary or watch the news. I go online to find videos, and after work each day I go home, watch one game, pretending it's a live broadcast." Mao Chi said, laughing loudly, recalling the time when he was in school, sweating his youth on the basketball court.

"Director Mao, watching so many games, aren't you tired?" an out-of-town director asked casually.

"Not tired." Mao Chi laughed: "Maybe it's because I'm simple-minded—just sitting at home watching a game brings me happiness."

"And what about your sister-in-law? Does she watch with you?" Sun Chao asked.

Mao Chi is afraid of his wife; this question is somewhat heartless.

In fact, he himself also had the idea of giving Mao Chi some trouble; a few days ago, with a pulmonary embolism, the young hotshots from 912 swept through the Capital Medical University Affiliated Hospital, and many senior directors there were dissatisfied and resentful.

Thus, upon seeing 912's old friend Mao Chi, Director Sun Chao's eyes glowed green, like a hungry wolf.

If we could regain the venue, how great that would be.

But Sun Chao knows the chances aren't high; being able to match Mao Chi's level would already be good—if they can't do a surgery, neither can he.

"No, she can't focus on one thing." Mao Chi hehe-laughed; when speaking ill of his wife, he always felt a chill on the back of his head, so he instinctively glanced back, confirming she wasn't home, before continuing.

"That's how women are, so they're unhappy every day. Like a lizard, with two eyes that can see two different directions." As he said this, Mao Chi raised his hand, made a fist, and placed it on his cheekbone.

It's kinda cute, a little adorable.

But saying this struck the hearts of several old men present.

"One eye sees the shoes they love, the other watches the young woman walking over, thinking, 'Back when I was young, I was thinner and prettier than you. Even if I'm old now, my demeanor should still be better than yours.'"

Hahaha, everyone present laughed loudly.

Very relaxed, very leisurely.

"After a long time, I've realized something—do you know what can make a woman happy?" Mao Chi paused.

Nobody knew how to answer this question.

"Nothing at all!" Mao Chi firmly said, "Nothing can make them happy!"

"After that, I focused my attention on the NBA—each day I go home, drink a little red wine, a small cup, eat some peanuts, curse the referees, curse the players, 'How's Ross?' 'How's Durant?'—it's quite enjoyable."

"Such a person's leisure time is truly the best moment."

Mao Chi is clearly immersed in the atmosphere of coming home each day, sitting in front of the TV to watch games, unable to extricate himself.

"Old Mao, if your wife knew you get such great happiness from watching the NBA, she'd surely want to join in." Sun Chao laughed heartily and timely stabbed a jab.

They were classmates back then; Mao Chi's wife was a flower of the nursing class, and he finally plucked her into his hand—now thinking back, his heart still faintly aches.

"That's pure jealousy!" Mao Chi was very relaxed, after all his wife wasn't present, he didn't care about Sun Chao's words, and simply released his emotions purely.

"She must be jealous of me, jealous that I can feel true happiness and joy right in front of the TV. This makes her feel imbalanced, so she wants to come cause trouble and destroy all of this."

Mao Chi muttered softly; at this moment he sensed an inexplicable danger, as if his wife were standing behind him holding a frying pan.

The phone rang, startling Mao Chi.

"Director Mao, Neurosurgery, urgent consultation! Consider pulmonary embolism!"