National Doctor: When You Perfect a Skill

Most junior master's students and resident trainees chose to stay in dormitories, though some with better financial conditions rented off-campus housing—like Zhou Yanqing's junior, Fan Ziwei, who was known for his more lavish arrangements.

After escorting Zhou to his dormitory, Han Dongliang, the new junior, headed upstairs. Zhou pushed open the door to find that his roommates, Guo Congyu and Liu Dongyang, hadn't returned yet. The dormitory was exactly as he had left it a week ago.

Without hesitation, Zhou went through his usual routine: turning on the air conditioner, washing up, and brushing his teeth. Then, he video-called his parents to calmly report the news of his unsuccessful doctoral interview.

After ending the call, Zhou glanced at his skill panel:

[Premium Skill Hall (Specialized-level skills only): Suturing (Specialized 2/5), Incision (Specialized 1/5)]

The professional pathway at Jishuitan's hand surgery department remained a daunting challenge. Not only did his suturing and incision skills fall short, but the array of required foundational techniques was also far more demanding.

In summary, becoming proficient enough to treat a Jishuitan doctoral advisor as a mere "technician" was an extraordinary feat.

His daily task remained unchanged:

[Daily Task: Successfully complete 15 standard-quality tendon sutures.]

The system wasn't sentient, nor did it adjust task difficulty based on personal desires. To complete tendon sutures, Zhou needed to first master the preparatory step: tension suturing of elastic bands in the training room. He was still lacking the finesse to pass this hurdle.

September 16, Monday

Arriving at the department early, Zhou was greeted enthusiastically by Xiao Wanli, a trainee nurse. She ran from the nurse's station to the department entrance and asked, "Dr. Zhou, have you had breakfast yet? Let's order fish noodles together!"

Zhou's expression shifted slightly as he walked into the department, asking, "How do you know everything so quickly?"

Thinking back, he realized something was amiss.

The last time, Xiao had casually revealed his undergraduate status as a "freelancer," something no one in the department knew. This time, she somehow knew the exact time he returned from Beijing—information only his immediate group was aware of. Zhou hadn't even informed Deputy Director Tao Yubin.

Xiao grinned smugly. "Your junior, Han, added me on WeChat and told me."

"That traitor," Zhou muttered with a chuckle. "I'll deal with him later."

With a smile, he asked, "Which fish noodle place is your favorite? My treat."

Seizing the opportunity for reciprocity, Zhou thought back to when Xiao had gifted him chocolates but vanished before he could return the favor with a drink.

After placing the order, Zhou reminded her, "Pick it up later, okay? I'll be busy after rounds and will need to assist my mentor in the outpatient clinic. I've already eaten breakfast."

Xiao was left frozen in place, her brain momentarily short-circuiting. Meanwhile, Zhou moved on with a laugh. After donning his white coat, he began reviewing his assigned patients' diagnoses, current statuses, and whether they were pre-op or post-op.

For Zhou, going to Jishuitan for the doctoral assessment was his right. But taking time off didn't excuse neglecting his duties. His priority upon returning was to familiarize himself with his patients—his most basic responsibility.

He personally visited each of his four assigned beds, taking detailed histories, conducting a thorough physical examination for the pre-op patient, and briefly checking on the three post-op patients while explaining his role.

Returning to the office, Zhou found the ward gradually filling with staff. Tian Zeguang, the burly attending physician, patted his belly and squinted. "Well, well, the sixth day of missing Yanqing—he's finally back!"

A slender figure, Li Zhong, immediately spotted Zhou. Standing up from his chair, his face broke into a beaming smile. "Yanqing! You're back! I've missed you, brother!"

Fan Ziwei, who had spent the past week with Li, protested, "Brother Zhong, I've been here with you all week. Don't you love me anymore?"

Li gave Fan a side-eye and retorted, "What good are you? You look decent but are nothing more than a decorative pillow. Can you suture skin flaps?"

He turned serious. "By the way, have you finally mastered half-layer orange peel suturing? Are you even at the standard for suturing skin?"

Fan was hit with a metaphorical ton of bricks. Glancing at Han for support, he found his junior pretending to look elsewhere—a picture of innocence and discretion.

Zhou guessed that Li, who had borrowed his skin flap suturing tasks last month, was already feeling burned out. "Brother Zhong, how about we switch tomorrow? I've missed you too!" Zhou's eyes sparkled.

For Zhou, skin flap suturing was not just a clinical opportunity to apply his skills but also a rewarding challenge. The meticulous nature of the task provided a sense of accomplishment, like cultivating a barren field and finally reaping its rewards.

Moreover, clinical skin flap suturing was the highest-level practice material available—far better than synthetic training aids—and it didn't cost money. Saving on materials was a necessity for Zhou, who had limited financial resources.

His mentor's scarce research funding meant Zhou couldn't produce enough papers to win national scholarships, which often went to internal medicine students with well-funded projects. His first-prize scholarship barely covered his tuition, leaving little room for anything else.

For Zhou, every opportunity to save money or practice effectively was precious.