Surgery Godfather Chapter 317

Chapter 317: Chapter 0301: Calculation in the Dark

The surgery was over, with the anesthetic administered just right, Guo Jingyao regained his autonomous breathing.

The rhythm of the anesthesia was perfectly in sync with the surgery, Fatty, holding the suction device, cleared the respiratory secretions, decisively extubated and disconnected, and Guo Jingyao slowly woke up.

“Where is this? Why are there intense lights everywhere?” Guo Jingyao woke up, just freed from restraints, he immediately grasped Fatty's hand.

Fatty knew he was a bit confused, patted him on the shoulder: “Relax, this is the operating room. The surgery is done, very successfully! That's the surgical light, of course, it's dazzling if you keep staring at it.”

Guo Jingyao's eyes slowly rolled a few times, blinking, apparently still a bit groggy, his grip on Fatty's hand not loosening.

“Doctor Yang! Where's Doctor Yang?” He finally remembered being on the operating table, and recalled that Doctor Yang was the chief surgeon.

Yang Ping stepped forward, touched Guo Jingyao's forehead, and said with a smile, “Don't worry, the surgery was very successful.”

“Thank you!” Guo Jingyao stared at Yang Ping for a good ten seconds or so, kicked the operating bed a few times with his foot, and finally let go of Fatty's hand.

“You're welcome, now let's move to the ward.” Yang Ping understood Guo Jingyao's unusual behavior.

Some patients, upon waking up from the operating table, feel as if they have just had a brush with death, feeling as if they have been through another life, unable to calm down for a long time.

As Guo Jingyao was pushed out of the operating room, Yang Ping took off his surgical gown and gloves, with Doctor Lin assisting on the side. After Yang threw his gloves into the trash can, Doctor Lin immediately shook his hand, expressing gratitude for the successful surgery.

Some surgeries make you sleep peacefully once they're done, while others keep you on tenterhooks, causing sleepless nights.

Everyone is a surgeon, they can empathize. Their greatest daily concerns revolve around their patients' conditions. Each worry adds a few gray hairs to their heads. Over time, their heads become prematurely full of gray hair.

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If someone were to conduct an international multicenter study to research the correlation between gray hair and doctor's experience, Chinese doctors would surely rank at the top for the speed of gray hair growth, far ahead of other countries.

Of course, Yang Ping is an anomaly, still maintaining a head full of thick black hair. If the correlation between white hair and medical experience was used in reverse, he would seem more like a medical student who had just entered school.

This first cross-national surgery, the team's performance was very satisfactory to Yang Ping. Everyone progressed quickly. It was evident that success is not achieved overnight, but rather as a result of daily diligence and accumulated effort.

This surgery not only tested the team's strength but also boosted their confidence. Only by continually interacting and exchanging with the outside world can one truly lead.

The automatic sensor doors opened one after the other, moving from the restricted area to the semi-restricted area, the Chinese medical team gradually exited the operating room.

“Doctor Yang, please!”

“Doctor Song, please!”

“Doctor Zhang, Doctor Lu, please!”

“Nurse Su, Nurse Zhou, please!”

“Dr. Liang, please!”

Yingge Hospital was very thoughtful, not leaving out anyone's name. Lead surgeons, assistants, nurses, anesthesiologists, each had designated personnel accompanying them.

Zhang Lin and Little Five followed behind the team, Zhang Lin walked with his head high and a serious expression on his face. He held his chest as high as possible and pulled his shoulders back as hard as he could. For the sake of appearing more impressive, he had sacrificed his comfort.

“Relax a bit, you're marching!” Little Five gently reminded.

Zhang Lin did not respond: “We have to be calm and serious, bring out an international demeanor, unlike our usual carefree selves.”

But looking at his own movement, he was indeed marching with his arms and legs in unison, and he struggled to correct it. Embarrassed, he hoped nobody noticed and continued walking with his chest held high.

Tang Fei and Qi Yanan were waiting in the observation area. As they saw the team appear at the main entrance of the observation area, they immediately greeted them and handed out bottled water.

Old Cheng was a step ahead, he loosened the cap of a bottle of mineral water in anticipation and handed it over in time. Yang Ping took a sip, feeling very refreshed.

The doctors immediately gathered around, rushing to ask various questions, the atmosphere was heated.

“Doctor Yang has just completed a surgery, let him rest a little, have a sip of water, and then answer everyone's questions, alright?” Doctor Huang gestured and explained to everyone.

In the observation area of the operating room, after a brief rest and answering the doctors' questions, they went to the hotel for a buffet lunch. In the evening, Doctor Huang had arranged a banquet and invited many Chinese doctors to accompany them.

During the buffet, Milton maintained an appropriate distance from Yang Ping all the time. The cunning Brit wanted to ask for Yang Ping's WeChat, but he was worried about letting August know, so he was always looking for the best opportunity.

Milton's plan was meticulous, like dealing with a chef, follow him to the restroom, quietly, stealthily, get his WeChat, and then invite him for a flying knife surgery. In this way, he had a chance to break through the technical bottleneck and get ahead of the Germans.

Milton nudged his way to Yang Ping's table with a plate, and August approached as well. Milton followed Yang Ping to get a drink, and so did August, without leaving any loopholes.

Yang Ping didn't have time to deal with Milton and August, and was enjoying his conversation with Dr. Lin and Dr. Huang. Thinking of a plan, Milton decided to retreat as a way to advance.

“Old chap, shall we go over there to have a few drinks and come back when Dr. Yang is free?” Milton suggested.

Given the current situation, August thought it would be annoying to Dr. Yang to always stick around him, so he agreed with Milton's suggestion, “Good idea.”

So the two of them sat down at a nearby table, poured a few different drinks, and began toasting. Despite having great differences, their friendship endured.

“Dr. Yang, if you don't mind, we could establish a long-term partnership. Both the Singapore Central Hospital and the dozens of hospitals under the Baihui Group hope to cooperate with you,” Dr. Lin sincerely invited.

Dr. Lin has a say in the orthopedics department of Singapore Central Hospital. Regarding the Baihui Group, its boss, Mr. Chen, is a good friend of Dr. Lin, making his opinions easily accepted.

Singapore Central Hospital is the highest standard hospital in Southeast Asia, and the Baihui Group is the largest high-end private hospital group in Asia, and now they have thrown open their doors to Yang Ping.

By expanding his medical reach, he could save more lives. Yang Ping couldn't have asked for more and happily agreed, “We can collaborate both clinically and scientifically in the future.”

“Yes, we can collaborate in these two areas in the future. I want to thank Mr. Zhu for this. If it wasn't for Mr. Zhu's efforts, how could we have met Dr. Yang? There were some minor hiccups along the way, and for that, I apologize,” Dr. Huang said embarrassedly, recalling the hiccup before the meeting.

“Just a misunderstanding–” Director Zhu simply laughed it off.

Milton and August were now toasting with fruit juice, both feeling high-spirited, going back and forth. Although the juice didn't have any alcohol, it would eventually gather in the bladder.

“I need to go and loosen up a bit, old chap,” said August, shaking his head and emptying his glass.

Milton, restraining his own uncomfortable bladder, casually said, “Go ahead, I'll wait for you.”

Watching August head to the restroom, Milton smirked. He immediately shifted to where Yang Ping was, and without any formalities, he got straight to the point, “Dr. Yang, I'm Milton from the British Royal Orthopaedic Hospital. If you're interested, we can collaborate? We're backed by Cambridge University and have a robust research base. Many of our equipment is one-of-kind in the world.”

Milton extended his hand right away. Yang Ping shook hands with him, having an impression of this Englishman who was in a hurry to catch his flight.

“Can we exchange WeChat contacts? Can I scan yours?” Milton suddenly proposed.

While he was saying this, his gaze drifted towards the doorway, the mandatory route to the restroom, looking like a secret agent attempting to crack a safe under strictly limited time.

Yang Ping was initially taken aback. He actually uses WeChat. He pulled out his mobile and showed the QR code. Milton, while scanning the code, muttered to himself, “Top right corner, scan, add friend–”

Great! It worked. Milton was thrilled like a child. He glanced at the entrance of the hall, and quickly turned to Yang Ping, “I'm sincere about this, we'll chat on WeChat when I'm free–”

He hurried back to his seat, pretending nothing had happened, nonchalantly waiting for his old buddy to return for more juice. At last, everything was settled. He opened his phone to see that Yang Ping had confirmed his request and a smile crept onto his face.

“Milton, you are a lucky one!” Milton complimented himself.

August came back from outside the hall, looking relaxed. Milton suddenly remembered that his bladder was unbearable too. He had gone all out to get his old buddy to the restroom. He couldn't hold back anymore as there would be some hidden health issues like reduced bladder tension which could lead to residual urine.

“I need to loosen up too, mate. Wait for me here. It's rare for us to sit together across an ocean. We still have a lot to talk about,” Milton told August before leaving.

The straightforward German looked towards Yang Ping's table, feeling he needed to do something, but couldn't remember what exactly. Yes, he should talk to Dr. Yang and, ideally, get his contact information.

Just as August was about to get up, Milton returned, “Old chap, were you planning on getting his phone number?”

“Yes!” August was honest.

“You don't understand Chinese culture. There are some rules for dealing with the Chinese, like not asking for their contact information at the first meeting. If you do, you'll be seen as a conman and they'll ignore you next time,” Milton said convincingly.

“Yes, I guarantee that if you rashly go up and ask, Dr. Yang will hold a prejudice against you,” Milton added.

August sat back down. He really didn't understand the Chinese culture–whether these norms indeed existed, he wasn't sure. As a thorough German, he would never take someone's words as the gospel, even if it was his old buddy.

He figured he would ask Dr. Lin when the opportunity presented itself or ask the Chinese chef. August was puzzled, when did Milton start researching Chinese culture? He was suspicious.

Looking at Milton's expression, it seemed like he was hiding something. Having dealt with each other for several decades, August trusted his intuition–he was feeling like he'd been tricked somehow.

August picked up his phone: “Markus, come here.”

Chapter end

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