"Mission accomplished, reward 2400 points."
Yang Ping couldn't believe he had earned thousands of points so quickly. His confidence swelled as it seemed he could accumulate his first fortune through finger reattachment. Initially, he thought he wouldn't have the chance to perform finger reattachment, but now his plans became clear.
Yang Ping entered the System Space and went to the mall to purchase a few basic techniques, seizing the moment to complete his training.
Thus, not many points were left, only about a thousand remained, putting him in a tight spot.
Song Zimo, Zhang Lin, and the anesthesiologist nurse escorted the patient back to the ward while the others dispersed, each savoring the experience.
In the changing room, Director Han and Yang Ping, dressed in scrubs, sat on a long bench, leaning against the backrest to rest. Director Han pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Yang Ping, "Do you smoke?"
Yang Ping shook his head, smiling, "Thank you, Director, I don't smoke and I can't handle alcohol either. If it were a few decades ago, I definitely wouldn't have passed the first round of interviews. I might have managed with an iron ball, but alcohol, that's a total mess."
Director Han laughed heartily, "What a pity, the medical team is short of a drinker. China's hundreds of millions of drinkers are also short of one doctor, a dual loss!"
Director Han sniffed the cigarette, then packed it away since he decided not to smoke, possibly to prevent Yang Ping from inhaling secondhand smoke. He leaned further back in his seat, "People's Hospital doesn't have many finger reattachments. I am curious how your skills in microsurgery were honed?"
"Director, I honestly don't know why, but under the microscope, I feel very comfortable operating, just like I do in normal surgeries," Yang Ping's face felt a bit warm.
"You should train everyone when you have time to raise everyone's level. A single flower does not constitute spring, but when all flowers bloom together, spring is truly here," Director Han said meaningfully.
Yang Ping nodded, "Understood, Director, I will actively communicate with everyone and progress together."
Director Han excitedly raised his thumb, "That's the spirit!"
"Oh, if you encounter any difficulties or have any requests during work, feel free to mention them. You can also share any ideas with me anytime, whether they're fully thought out or not. Outside of work, you can call me Old Han. Tian Yuan and Song Zimo do that, it's more casual. Sanbo offers a wide platform where you can freely showcase your talents." Director Han closed his eyes, looking tired.
After eating their post-surgery meal, Yang Ping hurried back to rest.
Going home required crossing the Sky Bridge, which was wide and bustling. All along the way, there were stalls, fortune-telling, curing all diseases, and mobile screen protectors.
Yang Ping enjoyed the breeze on the Sky Bridge, planning his next steps, when his phone vibrated in his pocket—it was Song Zimo: "Doctor Yang, have you eaten?"
"Just had some food," Yang Ping had just eaten his post-surgery meal.
"Are you still at the hospital?" Song Zimo asked cautiously.
"Still here!" Yang Ping quickly looked around.
"Could you come to the lab?" Song Zimo asked somewhat sheepishly.
The lab in orthopedics was actually a large training room.
It had training equipment like microscopes and arthroscopes, which are generally very expensive and beyond the means of most hospitals. Only top hospitals in the country would consider investing in such facilities.
Normally, just exchanging greetings with Song Zimo was rare, let alone receiving a call from him. What could it be today?
Yang Ping returned to his department, where at the end of the hallway was a large room, the laboratory.
The door was ajar, letting out a sliver of light. Yang Ping gently pushed the door and entered.
There was one person training under the microscope—it was Song Zimo.
A diligent wealthy heir, living the saying—"richer than you, yet working harder than you."
Hearing someone enter, Song Zimo turned around, "Come, come, senior, I'm pretty fast and steady when I practice, but why do I always exert too much force and can't speed up during surgeries today?"
Senior?
Under the deputy director and chief physician, Song Zimo's status in his department was unmatched as the oldest apprentice brother.
To be called "Brother" now was indeed a bit of a pleasant surprise.
"Aren't you resting? Practicing with the microscope so late?" Yang Ping guessed he might want to discuss today's surgery, but he didn't expect him to be so sincere, a stark contrast to the usual Song Zimo.
Song Zimo gave up his seat and Yang Ping sat down, bringing his eyes close to the eyepiece.
In the field of view, on the fixed plate, the 0.05 millimeter simulated blood vessels had been effectively joined—very standard.
He truly was a genius.
These simulated blood vessels were consumables for microsurgery training, quite expensive, and used in large quantities, only hospitals like Sanbo, willing to invest the money, could afford to set up such laboratories.
Hospitals famous for their surgery, like Jishuitan Hospital, 401 Hospital, and 89 Hospital, all had their own laboratories and kept many rabbits and mice.
Connecting rabbit ears and mouse tails was more realistic but inefficient. These synthetic blood vessels could be obtained as needed, in various diameters, and as long as the hospital was willing to pay, you could practice as long as you wanted.
Now, the vessels Song Zimo was practicing with were 0.05 millimeters, about the diameter of a newborn's finger vessels, like the ones Yang Ping had connected today, which were even finer.
"In today's surgery, I always couldn't speed up, I had to be very slow, a little faster and my movements became too large, tearing the blood vessel?" Song Zimo scratched his neck, slightly distressed.
In fact, he was already impressive, joining 0.05 millimeter vessels so perfectly.
Regrettably, he was up against Yang Ping.
What could one do? They were simply not on the same level.
Yang Ping was very willing to befriend Song Zimo. Having just arrived at the new hospital, he needed to establish good interpersonal relations. Song Zimo was an opening—if he managed their relationship well, other young doctors would naturally follow, at least not being unfriendly towards him.
Standing out wasn't always good, but without showing prowess, one might be overlooked and lose many opportunities. It was still important to strike a balance.
"Today's newborn was premature, the blood vessels were underdeveloped and brittle, not normal vessels. The vessels you practiced with are different from the actual surgical subject. This is the contradiction between training and actual combat. I suggest you use a newborn white mouse, feed it dexamethasone for a while to create a model similar to a premature baby's finger vessels, then practice. It's all about talent plus diligence, practice makes perfect," Yang Ping analyzed the problem for him and offered a sensible suggestion.
"Actually, your talent is really high, it's just that you haven't encountered such a case before. I have, hence the experience," Yang Ping added, encouraging him.
Praise works on everyone, as the renowned success coach Dale Carnegie, whose books sold worldwide, once said.
From a young age, Song Zimo had always excelled, accomplishing with ease what others struggled to achieve.
Experiencing the setback today naturally caused some displeasure within Song Zimo, but Yang Ping's words provided a psychological way out.
If he had encountered such cases before and had experience with them, he definitely wouldn't have been so passive today.
"Try my method, and after some time training, you'll surely break through this bottleneck," Yang Ping encouraged him.
Song Zimo nodded; he felt Yang Ping was right. He didn't become arrogant because he had successfully performed a replantation on the premature infant's amputated finger today, nor was he complacent about his skills.
"In future, teach me more when you're free; you're more experienced than I am," Song Zimo said, somewhat embarrassedly.
Yang Ping nodded: "Let's learn from each other and improve together."
"Brother, you should go rest. You've worked hard in today's surgery. I'll practice a bit more," Song Zimo's tone was much more natural.
Yang Ping also wanted to go rest, "Alright, if you have any insights from practicing, teach me too."
In less than half an hour of interaction, Song Zimo acknowledged Yang Ping; his high talent was evident, and he had not a hint of arrogance, which was rare.
Having such a colleague was indeed fortunate.
Song Zimo was proud, but not narrow-minded; rather, he disliked narrow-minded people.