Chapter 77:

Time always slips away swiftly when you’re not paying attention to it.

In the blink of an eye, two months had passed.

Qin Chaoyu’s internship life could be described as… eventful?

Well, actually, no.

The Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) Department was indeed the least popular department in the entire hospital. Even the air here felt desolate. Forget about workplace veterans bullying newcomers or ordering them around—there wasn’t even a chance to get into an argument.

The TCM Department, including the director and deputy director, had a total of six people. Yes, you read that right—just six. Compared to other departments, which often had over a dozen staff members, the TCM Department was embarrassingly understaffed. And all six of them were over fifty years old.

At that age, having lived through most of their lives, their temperaments were generally mild, and they were far more tolerant of things.

Moreover, those who could peacefully stay in this department were all exceptionally easygoing. Of course, those who weren’t had long since found ways to transfer out. As a result, the people who remained here were all planning to coast into retirement.

In other words, no one in this department had any competitive drive. They each stuck to their own little routines, arriving on time every day, drinking tea, reading newspapers, and leaving punctually without overtime. The department was quiet, and the days passed uneventfully.

Honestly, everyone in the department was quite surprised when they heard a young girl was being transferred here. They couldn’t fathom who in their right mind would willingly move to this retirement-like department.

When they saw Qin Chaoyu, they all felt a pang of pity—such a young and pretty girl, yet clearly not thinking straight.

They considered giving her some advice but worried about overstepping, so they simply accepted her presence.

As a result, Qin Chaoyu was undoubtedly the youngest in the department, with everyone else old enough to be her grandparents.

Qin Chaoyu was fair-skinned, beautiful, gentle, and soft-spoken—the kind of girl most elderly people adored. Naturally, the entire department doted on her like a granddaughter.

Qin Chaoyu had never experienced such pure, unadulterated warmth and kindness before, and at first, it left her flustered. Gradually, though, she grew accustomed to it.

She was the type who repaid kindness tenfold.

After joining the department, she carefully observed everyone’s health. Perhaps mood and physical well-being were closely linked—most of the department members were in good health, with only minor age-related ailments.

Qin Chaoyu took note and started bringing a thermos with her every time she came to the hospital, filled with carefully brewed medicinal soup that was highly beneficial for health.

Older people were shrewd, especially when it came to things that were good for their bodies. One sip was enough for them to recognize its value. It was good for health, and more importantly, delicious—how could they refuse?

This led to Qin Chaoyu being greeted by six pairs of eager eyes every time she arrived. If not for her strong mental fortitude, she might have been overwhelmed.

They had asked her to bring more, but Qin Chaoyu was still a student.

Ou Weiming had arranged for her to work only on Saturdays and Sundays—no one knew how he managed it. Fortunately, it was in the TCM Department; any other department would have been impossible to arrange.

Given the circumstances, even if Qin Chaoyu wanted to bring more, the department members couldn’t bring themselves to burden her.

They were a bunch of old folks, after all, and she was a delicate young girl who could easily be their granddaughter. How could they trouble her like that?

The harmonious atmosphere made Qin Chaoyu feel quite content. But no matter how pleasant it was, after two months without even seeing a single patient, her mood began to sour.

It wasn’t that there were no patients at all—there were, but none of them trusted a young girl like Qin Chaoyu to treat them. No matter how confidently she spoke, their disbelief rendered her efforts useless.

So Qin Chaoyu grew restless.

Why had she come to the hospital? To interact with patients and gain experience. If she encountered fewer patients here than she had while practicing independently, what was the point?

“Ugh.” Resting her head on the desk, Qin Chaoyu glanced around—some were drinking tea, others reading newspapers, and two were even playing chess. The entire place felt like a retirement home. She sighed helplessly, feeling like she was about to grow mold.

*Knock knock!*

Lost in thought, she was startled when someone rapped on her desk.

Looking up, she saw Ou Weiming smiling at her. “What’s wrong, junior?”

It wasn’t wrong for Ou Weiming to call her that—he had graduated from Yuzhou University four years before her.

Qin Chaoyu straightened up and forced a smile. “Senior… Ou?”

The title felt awkward, but since he had called her “junior,” refusing to reciprocate might make her seem disdainful.

Ou Weiming nodded, glanced around the department, and chuckled knowingly. “Let’s talk outside, junior. This doesn’t seem like the best place for a chat.”

He was right—with people reading and playing chess, chattering away would only annoy them.

“Let’s go.” Qin Chaoyu led the way out.

Once they were far enough from the office to avoid disturbing anyone, she stopped and turned to face Ou Weiming, who had been following her. Curious, she asked, “Senior Ou, what brings you here? Is something the matter?”

Ou Weiming shrugged. “Just checking in on you. After all, I was the one who arranged your placement here. So, how’s it going?”

Qin Chaoyu: “The department members are all easygoing and treat me like family since they’re much older. Overall, it’s a very relaxed environment.”

“Oh? So you’re satisfied?”

“No. Precisely because it’s *too* comfortable, I’m *not* satisfied.” Qin Chaoyu gave a bitter smile. “I don’t know if Professor Wei told you, but the main reason I came to the hospital was to interact with patients and gain experience. In the TCM Department, I don’t get to see any patients. That’s the problem.”

Ou Weiming rested his chin on his hand, thinking.

His mentor *had* mentioned the girl’s purpose for coming to the hospital, but Ou Weiming hadn’t taken it seriously. He assumed she just wanted to observe senior doctors and learn from them—not that she wanted to treat patients herself.

That complicated things!

Scratching his head, Ou Weiming felt like his mentor had handed him an impossible task.

Most master-disciple relationships involved the disciple causing trouble for the master, but here, the master was making life difficult for the disciple. Wasn’t he just unlucky?

After a long pause, Ou Weiming decided to be honest. “If you want to interact with patients, it’s… tricky. First, you’re too young—patients won’t trust you easily. No matter how skilled you are, if they don’t believe in you, it’s pointless. Second, your position is awkward. This is a Western medicine hospital, and you only practice TCM. That makes it hard to find a suitable role for you.”

Qin Chaoyu was well aware of these issues. But she refused to accept that her age alone should disqualify her.

Her stubbornness flared. “Senior Ou, I can say with full confidence that my medical skills are excellent. Professor Wei can vouch for that. I came to the hospital thinking I’d encounter more patients, but clearly, that’s not happening. So—”

“Deputy Director Ou!” A loud voice interrupted her from behind.

Both Qin Chaoyu and Ou Weiming turned to see a young man in his twenties, panting heavily, his face flushed from running.

Gasping for breath, he blurted out, “Deputy Director, it’s bad! Dr. Li’s surgery ran into trouble—the patient is hemorrhaging uncontrollably and is in critical condition! He sent me to get you—you need to go to the operating room immediately to help stop the bleeding! He’s doing everything he can to save the patient’s life!”

Ou Weiming’s expression turned grave. “Stop the bleeding? How am I supposed to do that? Last time was just luck—I’m not an expert in this! You—never mind, let’s just get to the OR!”

The young man, intimidated by Ou Weiming’s stern tone, nodded hastily and led the way.

Just as Ou Weiming was about to leave, Qin Chaoyu spoke up.

“I think I can stop the bleeding.”

Ou Weiming froze, locking eyes with her. “You’re not joking?”

Qin Chaoyu met his gaze firmly. “I *never* joke about lives.”

With no time to waste, Ou Weiming could only say, “Follow me!” before rushing toward the operating room.

Once there, he tossed Qin Chaoyu a set of sterile surgical scrubs and told her to change.

Ten minutes later, they entered the OR.

Around the operating table, a team was frantically working to save the patient, oblivious to their arrival.

“Scalpel!”

“Not enough blood—get more from the blood bank! If necessary, draw from the family! Hurry!”

“Wipe my sweat!”

…

The patient’s vitals on the monitor were growing weaker.

Life was slipping away.

“It’s no use, Dr. Li! The patient’s vitals are fading!”

“Keep going! Don’t give up!”

Standing nearby, Qin Chaoyu felt her own pulse quicken. The desperate, all-out effort to save a life was electrifying.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Ou Weiming and said solemnly, “Do you trust me? If you do, let me try.”