Chapter 2837: 2743.2633 Spitting on One's Own Face

2743.2633 Spitting on One's Own Face

Nanshan City Psychiatric Hospital was holding its weekly meeting.

"I've finished my remarks. In short, the diagnosis of every mental illness must be handled with extreme caution." Wu Yuanzhang has raised this point at every meeting these past months, and everyone's ears have grown calluses from hearing it.

"If you encounter difficulties, you can contact the Medical Affairs Department or me; we can hold joint consultations with the city's hospitals." Wu Yuanzhang said, "The case of the internet‑addicted, agitated child must never happen again."

The heads of Neurology, Neurosurgery, Psychology, and Psychiatry seated below were listless. Their minds were no longer on Wu Yuanzhang's repeatedly emphasized points; instead they were wondering whether, if he went on for another half hour, it would delay their leaving work.

Wu Yuanzhang, however, had no intention of ending the meeting. He had been repeating this point, and especially after the Nobel Prize announcement, he had intensified his efforts.

Whenever Wu Yuanzhang recalled how he had happened to draw Zheng Lao Ban in the lottery and then rushed to Nanshan City to give him a stern dressing‑down, a cold sweat would break out on his back. It's damn scary—if Zheng Lao Ban went back and said something, how could Wu Yuanzhang survive in this circle?

To be honest, such an incident hasn't occurred in years. Zheng Lao Ban helped resolve the matter, preventing the patient's family from letting their dissatisfaction fester, and the child received treatment—it could be called perfect.

After an objective analysis, that copper‑absorption disorder could easily be misdiagnosed even in a top‑tier hospital, let alone a psychiatric one. If people shunned him because of this, Wu Yuanzhang would feel wronged.

Wu Yuanzhang had also been following this case; at first he feared there might be a problem, but when he saw the child discharged, a shift occurred in his inner mind.

Of course, this change wasn't enough to alter anything. The real shift came after Zheng Lao Ban won the Nobel Prize, prompting Wu Yuanzhang to muster the energy to actually do something.

Although Wu Yuanzhang knew it was impossible to curry favor with Zheng Lao Ban just for this, he certainly didn't want a similar incident to happen again.

Zheng Lao Ban and his assistant threw down the medical records at City First Hospital, giving no face at all—solemn, serious, and utterly lacking any liveliness.

Being scolded by a Nobel laureate, and then possibly seeing it in the news… just the thought made Wu Yuanzhang shudder.

It's better to nip trouble in the bud.

"Jiang Zhuren, the last incident occurred in your department—tell us what corrective measures you've taken." Wu Yuanzhang asked.

Jiang Zhuren, seated below in the Psychiatry Department, plainly showed his displeasure on his face.

Generally, clinical directors wouldn't openly defy the president's orders; doing nothing at all would suffice, since the president is busy and nobody has time to micromanage clinical affairs day after day.

Although Jiang Zhuren was nearing retirement and refused to engage with Wu Yuanzhang, the latter really had no recourse. Moreover, what annoyed Jiang Zhuren was having the same issue raised over and over—what's the point!

That's a rare disease; even if it were sent to the city's People's Hospital, it still wouldn't be diagnosed. Such a case lacks general significance, and he thinks Wu Yuanzhang is targeting him, bullying him because he's about to retire.

After months of simmering, Jiang Zhuren was ready to bite Wu Yuanzhang viciously before his retirement.

"Director Wu, we have a new patient diagnosed with persecutory delusion." Jiang Zhuren said coldly, "He was sent by his parents, who claim he fears they'll poison his food every day. When he goes out, he worries someone will run him over. The condition is worsening; I think the diagnosis is wrong and a consultation is needed."

……

Wu Yuanzhang really wanted to smash a cup and curse someone.

He had merely pointed out a clinical risk, but Jiang Zhuren threw back an unequivocal diagnosis of persecutory delusion to shut him up.

It's damn infuriating!

But Wu Yuanzhang also knew that Jiang Zhuren would retire in a couple of months—what could he do to him?

"Fine, send me the records; I'll have someone look at them." Wu Yuanzhang instantly lost interest, sighed, saw the listless expressions of the department heads, and resignedly said, "Let's adjourn."

Watching the crowd disperse in an instant, Wu Yuanzhang felt stifled. The work at the psychiatric hospital is easy or hard—it mainly profits from the psychology and sleep clinics.

This area could be strengthened; social pressure is growing, and more people suffer emotional instability and insomnia.

As for Jiang Zhuren's Psychiatry Department… let him sink or swim. Damn! Last time his side had an incident, I ran around and took a lot of scolding before I got things settled.

But now he's jumping out to deny me face.

Wu Yuanzhang also felt wronged and quite troubled.

He was gathering his things, preparing to leave work, but as he stepped out of his office, a junior doctor came to the door holding a stack of records.

"Director Wu, Director Jiang asked me to bring you the records," the junior doctor said somewhat humbly.

He didn't know what had happened, but being stuck in the middle of this tense situation, he could easily become a scapegoat.

When the higher‑ups clash, how did I end up getting the short end? The junior doctor lowered his head, holding the freshly printed records with both hands, and handed them to Wu Yuanzhang.

Wu Yuanzhang laughed despite himself, didn't give the junior doctor a hard time, took the records, and said softly, "All right, you may go."

The junior doctor, as if pardoned, bowed deeply, turned and walked away, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Wu Yuanzhang weighed the records in his hand, recalled Jiang Zhuren's provocation, and felt somewhat helpless.

He put the records into his briefcase, planning to go home, eat, and then think it over. He doubted he'd figure anything out; if the diagnosis were flawed, would Jiang Zhuren dare to provoke him like this?

Impossible—Wu Yuanzhang knew that.

Leisurely returning home, after dinner he sat at his dust‑covered desk and examined the record that Jiang Zhuren deemed flawless.

The patient's condition was indeed problematic: because of severe persecutory delusion, he had been sent to the hospital only after attempting suicide.

As for the reason behind the suicide, the patient believed everyone in the world wanted to harm her—not just family, but school teachers, classmates, even delivery workers who would spit or poison her boxed meals.

The patient's mental state was extremely unstable; the current priority was to prevent her from dying in the hospital.

This Jiang Zhuren is basically opposing me head‑on; after a quick skim of the record, Wu Yuanzhang knew the score.

The patient is a textbook case of anxiety disorder with persecutory delusion, and so on—to the point that he now wants to kill himself; this is all too common, and Jiang Zhuren is marshalling his forces.

But what can I do?

Spit on one's own face and let it dry—what else can I do? Wu Yuanzhang sighed; others may think being a hospital director is mighty, but interpersonal relations are never that simple.