Chapter 2165: 2090 What are you looking at!

2090 What are you looking at!

Generally speaking, only the most violent operators in a typhoon would both strike and scold on the operating table. Such people are usually disliked; junior doctors and nurses show respect on the surface but hate them in private.

Even if they encounter a hot‑tempered circulating nurse, there are plenty who shout back at the instrument‑throwing operator in the operating room.

However,

Zheng Lao Ban's hemostatic forceps, the "violent" typhoon—everyone knows about 912.

But when people talk about it, they just joke that Zheng Lao Ban is young yet arrogant, and the typhoon is no good. Still, many would love to get hit by his hemostatic forceps.

Zheng Lao Ban, however, rarely hits anyone.

Zhao Wenhua also thought that his skill was far superior to that of the bald outside doctor doing advanced training in Zheng Lao Ban's team. If it were him being hit twice by Zheng Lao Ban…

But he could only think about it.

Who today is receiving the baptism of Zheng Lao Ban's hemostatic forceps? Zhao Wenhua peered in.

"What the hell is that?" the professor heard a sound at the door, glanced and saw Zhao Wenhua, his eyes narrowed, and asked.

During the earthquake relief, when Director Kong hadn't returned, Zhao Wenhua told the professor that the medical team was taking more than their share; Professor Rudolf Wagner still remembers it.

Although the boss said nothing, the professor isn't broad‑minded either; every time he faces Zhao Wenhua, he glares at him.

"Professor Rudolf, why aren't you on stage?" Zhao Wenhua gave a gentle smile, didn't mind the professor's tone, seeing he'd been noticed, walked in.

"I'm going back to Germany," said Professor Rudolf Wagner. "The boss said he'll hit the two new surgeries, so I'll stay a few more days. After I leave, someone else will do the operations." He added, "What's it to you? What are you looking at?"

Zhao Wenhua really wanted to say, "What are you looking at, you?"

"Forget it, I'll just endure it—I won't stoop to the level of an international friend." He consoled himself.

Professor Rudolf Wagner is tall and big; if they really fought, he'd be at a disadvantage.

Through the lead glass, Zhao Wenhua happened to see Zheng Lao Ban holding the hemostatic forceps, the forceps reflecting the shadowless lamp's light like a divine artifact.

"You're taking more than your share, huh? What are you looking at?" Professor Rudolf Wagner said unhappily, "You don't have any surgery over there?"

"It's not that Zheng Lao Ban early on said I misdiagnosed; I've had a bit of an insight and wanted to discuss it with him." Zhao Wenhua disliked the phrase "taking more than your share," but he still said it with a smile.

"Discussion? You've got the whole wave wrong, what's there to discuss!" Professor Rudolf Wagner said in a contemptuous tone, like Su Yun, "You're stubbornly squatting here for nothing, old‑mumble‑eyes, you'll never learn anything the boss says."

Zhao Wenhua stared for a full three seconds.

Is Professor Rudolf Wagner scolding me in Northeastern dialect?!

A surge of hot blood rushed to his head, and Zhao Wenhua felt stars before his eyes.

No, his composure needed to be deeper, even deeper; Zhao Wenhua told himself.

He let out a long breath and quickly returned to normal.

"Seeing a quick‑in‑quick‑out and thinking it's a malignant tumor, looking at a film and being all confused—like a blind fool," the professor continued in fluent Northeastern dialect.

"I'll endure it," Zhao Wenhua took a deep breath to stay calm, then smiled and asked, "Professor Rudolf, who is the operator inside?"

Professor Rudolf Wagner was taken aback; he hadn't expected Zhao Wenhua to switch topics so quickly.

"I already said it's the newcomer." The professor ignored Zhao Wenhua and turned to watch the surgery.

The surgery was slow, but still steady, step by step, orderly.

Doctors with formal training, especially those from top‑tier hospitals, have their own advantage—solid fundamentals.

After observing surgeries for a little over a week, having assisted dozens of times, and with Lin Yuan's careful guidance, having mentally rehearsed countless times, today she got the chance to step up and showed no hesitation.

Zhao Wenhua smiled; seeing Professor Rudolf Wagner turn to look at the surgery, he stood beside the professor, smiling, and glanced twice at the "newcomer" performing the operation.

The operator wasn't fast, and a hint of inexperience could be seen.

Zhao Wenhua estimated that each operation would take at least two points.

But seeing the hemostatic forceps occasionally sway, the sound of pap‑pap‑pap echoed in his mind—really enviable.

Zhao Wenhua also wished to be hit twice by Zheng Lao Ban's hemostatic forceps—even once would do.

Alas, what a shame—who let him misjudge earlier?

He sighed inwardly, watching the screen show the operator's slightly clumsy operation, feeling endless regret.

If the world gave him another chance, Zhao Wenhua would surely not fall out with Zheng Lao Ban over that hospital bed.

Perhaps… forget it; there's simply no regret medicine to take.

Seeing the time, his own surgery was about to start, so he slipped out quietly.

If he could go back to the past and everything replayed, Zhao Wenhua felt he would understand life's priorities.

Give all the beds to Zheng Lao Ban and also join his medical team; then there'd be no setbacks to strike, and no empty resentment.

Leaving Operating Room 1, Zhao Wenhua sighed.

Too bad, there's no second chance. He couldn't just bow his head and worship; he could only watch enviously as others were hit by Zheng Lao Ban's hemostatic forceps, not himself.

Gathering his spirits, Zhao Wenhua cleanly and efficiently completed today's three liver‑cancer interventional embolization procedures.

The surgeries were beautifully done—one per hour—and Zhao Wenhua felt that after being provoked by Professor Rudolf, his level had risen.

After finishing the last one, he tore off the sterile gown, ripped open the lead clothing with a rip, and hung it on the rack.

He glanced at the time—it was nearly twelve o'clock.

Doing three surgeries a day is still a bit strained; from now on, better to do just two.

As he gradually ages, skipping lunch, by the time of the last surgery he's already breaking a cold sweat.

If this continues, his body won't hold up. Interventional surgery differs from other surgeries because it involves radiation; if carried on too long, he might end up with cancer.

But doing a slipshod job once in a while wouldn't be impossible—yet Zhao Wenhua couldn't get past that mental hurdle.

He'd rather do fewer surgeries, earn less money, and be meticulous—one surgery is one surgery.

Turning to leave, before he even reached Operating Room 1, he heard Professor Rudolf Wagner's voice call out, "Boss, the surgery turned out great!"

Uh…

"It's not that newcomer; the girl with the ponytail was doing the surgery—how did the boss end up on stage himself?"

Zhao Wenhua was a bit curious, and poked his head to take a look.

Zheng Lao Ban walked out from the Shujian, while walking he said, "Fugui'er, go send the patient, I will explain the surgery to Lin Yuan."

"Well!" Professor Rudolf Wagner no longer had the previous arrogance when speaking with Zhao Wenhua, happily went to send the patient.

"Professor Zhao? What are you looking at?" Zheng Ren glanced and saw Zhao Wenhua standing at the doorway slightly inside, asked strangely.