Zhou Yanqing, still relishing the warm sensation flowing through his hands, was eager to test his newfound abilities in the training room.
However, as a specialized master's student also enrolled in the residency program, he was bound by strict rules. Missing a shift was forbidden—at best, it earned criticism; at worst, it could lead to dismissal from the residency. Even though curiosity burned within him, he had to endure and wait.
The Next Day
After handing over his shift, completing ward rounds, and finishing his patient management duties, Zhou eagerly headed for the training room.
The training room was located in the Functional Science Experimental Building. Commonly referred to as the "training room," its official name was the Functional Science Skills Laboratory.
Most training rooms were brightly lit, resonating with the rhythmic clinks of surgical tools—sounds of the small army of junior doctors hard at work practicing.
Room 304 of the lab was the entry-level training room for hand surgery. A floor-mounted air conditioner in the corner hummed softly, its oscillating vent blowing cool air to dispel the lingering summer heat.
Inside, the room featured three rows of three adjustable-height stainless-steel training tables. The familiar snip of scissors, the faint tang of orange peel, and the smell of tofu filled the air—it was a comforting environment for Zhou.
The growth curve for a surgeon was smooth but painstakingly slow, and hand surgery had exceptionally high standards for operating-room readiness. Before junior doctors could step into surgery, they spent countless hours in the training room.
"Senior Brother, over here!" Zhou had barely reached the doorway when his junior, Fan Ziwei, waved him over.
Zhou walked through the narrow aisles between the tables to join him.
"Ziwei, how did you get here before me?" Zhou noticed that Fan was practicing suturing a split orange peel and had already completed at least two rounds of thirty stitches.
Yet, out of those thirty stitches, at least fourteen either tore the peel or pierced it incorrectly.
Fan was in his first year of his master's program, about to move into his second year. He had advanced past rubber clay sutures and was now working on full-thickness orange peel sutures—a critical step toward being allowed to suture surgical incisions in the operating room.
Zhou, having been on duty the previous day, had pre-written some patient notes, leaving only prescriptions and dressing changes for today. Even so, he was surprised that Fan had managed to beat him to the training room.
Though puzzled, Zhou offered guidance. "Suturing has four steps: insertion, passage, withdrawal, and knotting. For full-thickness orange peel sutures, the key is controlling the force in three areas: insertion, withdrawal, and knotting. These need precise control."
"Thank you, Senior Brother! I think my insertion control is okay, but I struggle with withdrawal and knotting—they tend to slip."
Fan, a pale, slender young man whose skin could rival that of any woman, explained, "All my patients are post-op cases. I completed their prescriptions and dressing changes before coming here, and none of them required surgery."
Ward management tasks, like writing medical records, prescribing treatments, changing dressings, and preparing discharge summaries, were the bread and butter of junior doctors.
Only after completing these foundational duties could they allocate their remaining time to honing surgical skills, learning procedures, writing papers, or conducting experiments.
For Zhou, this meant handling pre-op instructions and consent forms for a patient scheduled for surgery the next day before he could make his way to the training room.
"Hmm. Out of your thirty stitches, half are passable. You'll soon master full-thickness orange peel sutures and start working on live skin. Keep it up." Zhou patted Fan's shoulder in encouragement.
Suturing was the cornerstone of hand surgery. As such, the training materials for suturing were comprehensive and progressively challenging, from beginner rubber clay sutures to full-thickness and partial-thickness orange peel sutures, to 1cm-deep tofu sutures.
Zhou himself had already mastered partial-thickness orange peel sutures, granting him the privilege to perform small wound debridement sutures during on-call shifts.
"Thanks, Senior Brother!" Fan's eyes sparkled with determination.
Fan then added with a sheepish grin, "I prepped a suture kit and three blocks of fresh tofu for you at the next table. It only cost four and a half yuan, so no need to pay me back."
Zhou chuckled. "Are you trying to tempt me into corruption?"
"No way, Senior Brother! I'm just learning from your example. Now that Senior Brother Huang has graduated, you're the 'big brother' of our department!" Fan's eager expression radiated respect and a desire to learn.
Zhou, about to enter his final year, had mentored Fan for a year. It was clear Fan had absorbed Zhou's work ethic and diligence to heart.
"Thanks!" Zhou replied, his mood softening as he accepted his role as the senior-most student.
"Senior Brother, push hard to complete tofu sutures ahead of the others and secure the spot to stay at the hospital."
"By the way, Senior Brother Guo from Director Dong's group has already cleared partial-thickness orange peel sutures. He's at your level now and is allowed to perform debridement sutures in the department."
"And Senior Brother Liu from Director Han's group is probably close to finishing tofu sutures." Fan reported the achievements of Zhou's peers.
Guo and Liu were Zhou's direct competitors for the department's sole residency spot. To secure it, Zhou had to outperform them.
"Yeah, I know. Everyone wants to stay, and we're all pushing ourselves. It's inevitable." Zhou's calm tone reflected his understanding of the situation.
"To face external competitors, we first have to outshine our internal rivals," Zhou added.
Fan nodded solemnly, offering a small chocolate bar. "Senior Brother, I brought this for you in case you get hungry. No need to borrow candy from the others this time."
Zhou's lips twitched in embarrassment, recalling how he had once nearly fainted from low blood sugar in the training room. He gave Fan a thumbs-up. "Well done!"
"All thanks to your example, Senior Brother. But I still need to work harder—I haven't fainted from overwork yet!"
A few minutes later, Zhou returned to his station. Rolling up his sleeves, he donned sterile gloves, picked up a scalpel, and made precise vertical cuts into the tofu. He then began suturing the incisions.
Today, the process felt incredibly smooth, as if guided by an unseen force. The needle moved effortlessly, and the stitches seemed perfect.
"Qing-ge, are you already done suturing the tofu?"
Zhou's classmate, Guo Congyu, spoke in disbelief, his expression a mix of shock and awe.
Zhou glanced up briefly, noting Guo's astonishment. A surge of excitement welled up within him, though he remained silent, focused on his work.