By all logic, the post-op report should have been the end of it.
But, of course, nothing was ever that simple when Su Yan was involved.
Because the real reason she had rushed the report, the reason she had been so insistent on my "slowness" during surgery, and the reason she was now practically glowing with impatience…
Was because she wanted to leave.
Specifically, she wanted to go on a date.
And now that I was done with surgery?
She was ready to drag me out of this hospital by force.
The Moment of Realization
The nurses' station was buzzing with chatter, but for once, the conversation wasn't about patient charts or upcoming cases.
Instead, every pair of eyes was subtly (or not-so-subtly) watching Su Yan.
She stood near the exit, arms crossed, tapping her foot with all the barely-contained impatience of a girl waiting for her boyfriend to finish work so they could go have fun.
And somehow, that was the most offensive thing anyone had seen all day.
"She… she's just standing there." One nurse muttered.
"Looking like she's about to take him to dinner." Another added, voice tinged with something between awe and despair.
Meanwhile, inside the doctors' lounge, the atmosphere was just as tragic.
Evans, who had just come off a grueling 12-hour shift, collapsed onto the couch, groaning. "This isn't fair."
Wallace smirked. "What isn't?"
Evans threw an arm over his face. "I just spent the last half-day dealing with a nightmare case in trauma. Patel's been pulling double shifts. Half of the staff look like they haven't slept in a week. And Lin? Lin's just—"
He gestured vaguely toward me, where I was still checking off the last few files for clearance.
Then pointed at Su Yan, who was literally standing there like a spoiled girlfriend waiting for her man to take her shopping.
Patel, who was currently trying (and failing) to keep his composure, sighed. "I'm starting to think she's his real boss."
Wallace glanced between me and Su Yan, then nodded sagely. "She absolutely is."
That realization seemed to hit the room all at once.
Because the truth was, I wasn't the one in control.
Su Yan had waltzed into the hospital, rewritten my report, corrected my surgery in real-time, and was now standing there, completely unbothered, because she had other, much more important plans.
And those plans?
Did not include waiting for me to finish hospital paperwork.
The nurses at the station were still whispering.
"So let me get this straight." Amy, the heartbroken young nurse, said weakly. "While the rest of us are struggling with our shifts, he has an actual goddess writing his reports, fixing his surgeries, and now waiting to go on a date?"
The older nurse patted her on the shoulder. "Some men just get everything."
Amy groaned in existential despair.
Meanwhile, I finally closed my last file, packed up my things, and made my way to the door.
Su Yan immediately brightened.
Her entire posture shifted—from impatiently waiting to excitedly dragging me out like she'd just won the lottery.
"Done?" She beamed, slipping her arm into mine like this was a perfectly normal hospital setting.
I sighed, but I was already softening. "Yes, yes. Where to?"
"Secret!" She declared proudly, before shooting a very smug glance at the doctors and nurses who were still watching in disbelieving silence.
Evans almost looked pained.
Patel shook his head. "This isn't real."
Wallace simply chuckled. "I hope you all are enjoying this, because this is our lives now."
And with that, Su Yan and I left.
Leaving behind an entire hospital full of tired, overworked professionals who now had to deal with the crushing reality that somewhere, somehow…
True medical privilege existed.
And it was me.
The Aftermath: A Second Look
After Su Yan and I left, the hospital didn't return to normal.
Because, despite their best efforts, the doctors couldn't just let it go.
The surgery, the impossible speed, the mysterious yet terrifyingly competent girlfriend, and the perfectly written surgical report —it was all too much.
So naturally, the senior doctors gathered in the conference room and pulled up the surgical recording.
Again.
And this time?
They really paid attention.
The Observation Room
Dr. Wallace, the seasoned cardiothoracic surgeon, folded his arms as the video played. "Watch his hands."
Dr. Patel, the neurologist, leaned forward. "No wasted motion."
Dr. Evans, still half-bitter from the earlier events, nodded reluctantly. "No hesitation, either."
On screen, I worked with unnatural efficiency. Every cut, every clamp, every adjustment—it was surgical perfection.
But then, Su Yan's voice rang through the intercom.
"Angle's off by three degrees."
And in the video, I corrected myself immediately.
Dr. Patel exhaled slowly. "He actually listens."
Evans rubbed his forehead. "Not just listens—he obeys. Instantly."
That made them all pause.
Surgeons were notoriously arrogant. They didn't just take instructions mid-operation, especially not from someone who wasn't even in the OR.
And yet, I had.
And then came the kicker—
Su Yan's next critique.
"Your dissection speed is too slow."
The doctors in the room visibly tensed.
Because at that moment in the video, my hands were moving at inhuman speed.
But to her?
Still too slow.
Evans finally snapped. "Who the hell is she?!"
Wallace smirked. "That's the real question, isn't it?"
The Report Review
After reviewing the recording, they turned to the post-op report.
It was already legendary.
And yet, when Dr. Patel re-read it, he still sighed. "It's flawless."
Dr. Evans, despite himself, nodded. "Concise. Analytical. Perfectly structured."
A younger doctor, Dr. Rhodes, hesitated before adding, "There's even a predictive recovery chart based on statistical probabilities.
Wallace let out a low whistle. "That's usually reserved for advanced case studies."
Patel tapped the document. "She didn't just write a report. She wrote a master-level analysis. And she did it in…" He glanced at the timestamps. "…Less than five minutes."
Rhodes muttered under his breath. "This isn't fair."
Evans groaned. "Tell me about it."
And in that moment, they all felt it.
The deep, bone-weary exhaustion of doctors who spent years honing their craft, only to watch some mysterious woman waltz in, rewrite the rules, and still have time to go on a date.
Rhodes sighed. "So, to summarize—Lin is ridiculously good, his girlfriend is somehow even better, and we're all just suffering in comparison?"
Silence.
Then Wallace, ever the pragmatist, smirked.
"Welcome to our new reality."