Iceberg's Deep Love - Chapter 14

Jianghuan Hospital, operating room.

 

Beep… beep… beep… The monitor’s alarm blared through the operating room, instantly tightening everyone’s nerves.

 

“Sudden acute shock! Bl00d pressure plummeting!”

 

“Chest compressions! Stabilize the heartbeat! Now!”

 

“Administer epinephrine!”

 

“Increase the dobutamine drip!”

 

Jiang Min’s expression was grave, but her movements remained methodical and precise.

 

Tang Menghua, who usually seemed like a gentle young woman, now responded with unwavering decisiveness, performing emergency chest compressions until the patient’s heartbeat returned. Only then did she exhale in relief.

 

“We can’t wait any longer. Open the chest immediately.” Gu Jihuan exchanged a glance with Jiang Min.

 

The already critical situation had been compounded by the patient’s sudden shock during anesthesia. Without Jiang Min’s expertise, it would have been impossible to stabilize him so quickly.

 

Dark reddish pericardial effusion slowly drained away, relieving the cardiac tamponade.

 

The true extent of the problem was now revealed, as there hadn’t been time for a thorough pre-operative examination.

 

The anterior wall of the right ventricle had ruptured, causing massive bleeding. Fortunately, the impaled object wasn’t a particularly thick rebar, which had allowed the patient to survive this long.

 

Gu Jihuan couldn’t afford a moment’s hesitation. She immediately assessed the situation: “With this much bl00d, we can’t operate effectively. We need to establish cardiopulmonary bypass to get a clear surgical field.”

 

“The tear is too large. Prepare an artificial pericardial patch,” Gu Jihuan instructed Tang Menghua. “Forcing a suture in this condition would cause the vessels to twist.”

 

“Professor Gu still remembers his lectures even now,” Jiang Min sighed. “Xiao Tang, see? I told you following Doctor Gu was the right choice.”

 

“You’re just bored now, aren’t you? That’s why you’re making such lighthearted remarks,” Gu Jihuan replied, trimming the tiny pericardial patch as she chatted with Jiang Min.

 

This was akin to patching a hole in the heart—the patch couldn’t be too large or too small; the size had to be perfect. It was a task even more delicate than embroidery.

 

“The patient is stabilized and in your hands. Of course I have some time to spare,” Jiang Min said, though her eyes remained fixed on the monitor’s vital signs.

 

Despite the earlier tension, Jiang Min had weathered countless surgeries. Now that she was confident in the patient’s condition, she dared to make such jokes.

 

Gu Jihuan, her longtime partner, understood her temperament and simply smiled faintly, offering no further comment.

 

As if remembering something, Gu Jihuan asked, “I thought you weren’t on night duty tonight?”

 

“I got reassigned to the emergency room. What choice did I have?” Jiang Min grumbled. “We’re all just workhorses, and the ER is the workhorse’s workhorse.”

 

Gu Jihuan remained silent for a moment before slowly asking, “Vice President Zhou’s doing?”

 

“I don’t know, but it’s probably him. He’s the one who approves the final schedules,” Jiang Min replied casually.

 

“I’m sorry. I thought he was only targeting me,” Gu Jihuan said. Today marked her return to surgery, and Liu Zhiping had assigned her team a massive workload, prioritizing them for nearly all emergency night surgeries—a clear attempt to sabotage Gu Jihuan’s group.

 

Gu Jihuan wasn’t particularly bothered. With no family ties or obligations, she was used to sacrificing sleep and rest.

 

According to the schedule, tonight’s surgery should have been Shen Shuo’s. Gu Jihuan had personally taken over to spare her team members.

 

Yet, despite her efforts, Jiang Min had still been dragged into the conflict.

 

“What does this have to do with you? I’m the one who argued with him,” Jiang Min said with a smile. “Just hurry up, Professor Gu, so I can get back to sleep.”

 

Jiang Min’s clash with Vice President Zhou had actually been on Gu Jihuan’s behalf.

 

When Gu Jihuan was suspended from surgery, Jiang Min had gone to plead with Vice President Zhou.

 

In the crowded hospital cafeteria, Jiang Min had initially intended to speak calmly with him.

 

During a meal with Vice President Zhou, Liu Zhiping kept saying Gu Jihuan didn’t know what was good for her and deserved to have her surgeries suspended. Jiang Min was so furious she slammed her hand on the table.

 

“Gu Jihuan doesn’t know what’s good for her? I think you don’t know what’s good for you! You begged her to come work for you, and now you’re abandoning her?”

 

“Don’t think I don’t know about your shady dealings behind the scenes, Vice President Zhou. You’re siding with Director Liu because of your nephew, aren’t you?”

 

Her words drew the attention of everyone in the staff cafeteria. Vice President Zhou’s face slowly turned liver-colored before their eyes.

 

Jiang Min had spoken in the heat of the moment, but she had genuinely offended Vice President Zhou. He retaliated by assigning her back-to-back night shifts, nearly driving her to exhaustion.

 

“Poor visibility. Pull the retractor to the side,” Gu Jihuan said during surgery. “What about your parents?”

 

Jiang Min’s situation was different. Her father was paralyzed, and her mother was in poor health, leaving them completely dependent on her.

 

“It’s fine. I’ve arranged for Auntie to work extra hours with a bonus,” Jiang Min replied. “If only I had proof, I’d expose their corruption and show everyone how deep medical corruption can run.”

 

Jiang Min had connections with doctors from every department, making her the gossip hub of Jianghuan Hospital.

 

Her words weren’t just idle rumors; whispers had been circulating in the hospital for some time.

 

A newly established medical device company had recently secured several major contracts with Jianghuan.

 

However, every surgeon knew how difficult the supplied consumables were to use—far below the standard required for tender approval.

 

Jiang Min, with her keen sense for information, likely knew the reason behind this. The owner of the medical device company was a distant nephew of Vice President Zhou.

 

Yet the discussions remained mere gossip and complaints. Firstly, there was no concrete evidence, and secondly, no doctor at Jianghuan wanted to antagonize the vice president without good reason.

 

Liu Zhiping, the chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery, would inevitably handle these consumables, thus aligning Vice President Zhou with Director Liu.

 

By the time the surgery concluded, it was already past midnight. After briefing the patient’s family, Gu Jihuan was immediately called to treat another patient with acute myocardial infarction.

 

By the time Gu Jihuan finally finished all her work, dawn was just breaking.

 

Finally catching her breath, she casually scrolled through her WeChat Moments while sipping an ice-cold cola. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

 

Her sleep-deprived mind instantly snapped awake.

 

On the screen was a post containing only one sentence: “Back home. Old friends, let’s catch up when you’re free.”

 

Below the text was a photo of a brand-new office, its desk prominently displaying the logo of Qingnan Hospital.

 

Gu Jihuan opened the chat window and typed out a long message, but hesitated before sending it and deleted it.

 

It was only 5:30 AM; her mentor was likely still asleep. Sending a message now would be too disruptive.

 

The poster was Li Jiang, a leading figure in domestic cardiothoracic surgery and the professor who had personally acknowledged Gu Jihuan as his disciple.

 

Years ago, when Professor Li was visiting the M Country Heart Center for an exchange program, Gu Jihuan had studied under him for six months, gaining invaluable experience.

 

Professor Li had retired last year, rejecting all re-employment offers from domestic hospitals to move abroad and help his son care for his grandchildren.

 

But now, it seemed he had finally accepted an offer—and from Qingnan Hospital?

 

Despite her impatience, Gu Jihuan waited until around 9 a.m. to send a message.

 

Professor, have you returned to Jiang City? If it’s convenient, may I visit your home in a couple of days?

 

The elderly professor, with his habitually healthy routine, had already finished breakfast and replied cheerfully.

 

Yes, I’ve returned. I’m still moving and haven’t settled in yet. Plus, I have matters to attend to at Qingnan Hospital. Next month would be a better time to visit.

 

The professor was direct and concise, even including his new address.

 

This message confirmed it: Professor Li had not only returned to Jiang City but had also accepted Qingnan Hospital’s invitation.

 

After a moment’s thought, Gu Jihuan opened her chat with Lu Yuqiong.

 

Miss Lu, I heard Qingnan Hospital is offering high salaries to recruit talent across all departments. Are you aware of this?

 

Lu Di’s acquisition of Qingnan Hospital had caused a stir in the medical community. Qingnan Hospital was a top-ranked institution in Jiang City, and Lu Di’s Ludi Group was a powerful conglomerate. Their partnership had drawn considerable attention.

 

However, for the six months following the acquisition, Qingnan Hospital had remained relatively quiet, with no major developments. It was only a few days ago that they announced their talent recruitment drive.

 

Lu Yuqiong replied quickly. I know, but I’m not in charge of that. You should ask Shinian. She’s responsible for Qingnan Hospital now.

 

Shinian… This intimate nickname made Gu Jihuan pause, before realizing she meant Lu Shinian.

 

As Chen Yuefang’s only granddaughter and Lu Di’s rightful heir, Gu Jihuan had naturally heard of her.

 

However, during the two Lu Family banquets Gu Jihuan had attended, Lu Shinian was still abroad and hadn’t returned, so she had never met this legendary heiress.

 

I don’t have any personal connections with her, so I don’t want to bother her.

 

I wanted to ask if Lu Di is truly committed to this project and what Qingnan’s future prospects look like.

 

At the end, Gu Jihuan added, If it involves confidential information that’s inconvenient to share, that’s perfectly fine.

 

No personal connections… Lu Yuqiong found this statement a bit odd, but she didn’t dwell on it.

 

You did me a huge favor by accompanying me to the family banquet. This little question is hardly confidential.

 

Lu Di originally had no plans to invest in Qingnan, but after Shinian returned and took over Qingnan Hospital, she made a bet with the old men of the family to turn the hospital around. I can’t speak for everything, but Qingnan Hospital’s future development is definitely promising. I believe in Shinian’s capabilities.

 

Lu Yuqiong didn’t let her guard down around Gu Jihuan. Partly because Qingnan had no hidden secrets, and partly because she didn’t sense any malice from Lu Shinian.

 

This was also why Lu Yuqiong had taken an immediate liking to Lu Shinian. Years of navigating the business world had honed her ability to read people.

 

From her first meeting with Gu Jihuan, she had been certain that beneath his mature and composed exterior lay a naive, idealistic soul.

 

Such individuals made poor business partners, lacking the necessary acumen for commerce. However, they were excellent friends, radiating a comforting ease.

 

Unfamiliar with the wager, Gu Jihuan didn’t fully grasp the implications of Lu Yuqiong’s words.

 

Yet she could discern that Qingnan Hospital’s recent recruitment drive wasn’t a mere formality; genuine effort had been invested.

 

As expected of the Ludi Group, she thought, impressed. They actually managed to persuade Professor Li to come out of retirement.

 

Though she had never met Lu Shinian, Gu Jihuan couldn’t help but feel a growing admiration for him.

 

Gu Jihuan replied to Lu Yuqiong: Understood. Thank you.

 

Then she sent a message to Jiang Min: Minmin, I’m thinking of leaving Jianghuan. What do you think?

 

Jiang Min, likely just off her night shift, immediately called back: Jihuan, what do you mean?

 

Her voice was clearly anxious. “You can’t abandon your medical ideals because of those two old bastards! When you came back, you told me you wanted to follow in your parents’ footsteps and become a doctor who saves lives.”

 

“I’m not giving up on being a doctor, and my ideals haven’t changed.” Gu Jihuan paused before slowly adding, “Minmin, Jianghuan isn’t the same Jianghuan anymore. Don’t you feel that?”

 

Gu Jihuan had the most authority to speak about what Jianghuan Hospital used to be like.

 

She grew up in the hospital’s residential compound, surrounded by doctors who were her neighbors, uncles, and aunts.

 

Back then, doctors’ salaries were modest, and they lacked the advanced medical equipment available today. They relied almost entirely on their skills and dedication to overcome challenges. Even senior professors treated each case with meticulous care and diligently worked every night shift.

 

But now, Gu Jihuan felt that Jianghuan Hospital was permeated with an atmosphere of superficiality, driven by the pursuit of fame, profit, and maintaining their status.

 

Doctors had become increasingly preoccupied with self-preservation, making it nearly impossible to practice medicine purely.

 

Jiang Min was silent for a moment before asking, “But if you leave Jianghuan, will you really find a better environment?”

 

“Professor Li Jiang has gone to Qingnan Hospital,” Gu Jihuan said softly.

 

A moment of silence hung in the air before a loud clatter sounded, as if Jiang Min had dropped something.

 

Then Jiang Min’s incredulous voice rang out: “What did you say? Professor Li? Didn’t he refuse to return after retirement?”

 

Throughout her medical career, Gu Jihuan had many teachers, but Professor Li was undoubtedly the one she admired and respected most.

 

In a China struggling with poverty, Professor Li had steadfastly maintained the forefront of cardiothoracic surgery. Nearly all the leading figures in the field today were his protégés. Moreover, Professor Li valued spiritual fulfillment over material wealth, living a simple and austere life.

 

He would never have compromised his principles by returning unless he was completely satisfied with Qingnan Hospital.

 

Jiang Min, now composed, pondered for a moment before declaring, “Compared to that old bastard Liu Zhiping, Professor Li is the obvious choice. No need to even think about it.”

 

Liu Zhiping was several tiers below Professor Li in both clinical experience and moral character.

 

“But…” Jiang Min hesitated, “I remember Qingnan is backed by the Ludi Group, right? The Lu Family?”

 

“I’m going there to work, not to find a husband,” Gu Jihuan frowned. “If Jianghuan can’t accommodate me, there are plenty of other places that will. I earn my living through my own skills and hard work. Why shouldn’t I be able to earn money from the Lu Family?”

 

“I heard the salary is really high,” Jiang Min said, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Maybe I should apply too. I’m tired of working for that old bastard.”

 

There was little doubt about it. Qingnan was desperate for talent as it sought to develop rapidly. Jiang Min was the backbone of Jianghuan’s anesthesiology department, and Qingnan Hospital would struggle to find a more skilled anesthesiologist.

 

But beyond her idealistic desire to escape Jianghuan’s stifling medical environment, Gu Jihuan had her own private reasons for wanting the job.

 

She was desperately short on money. She still had to make installment payments on her grandmother’s loan, repay her debt to Jiang Min, and even cover the cost of ruining someone’s designer suit. Gu Jihuan urgently needed to earn money to fill this financial hole. The high salary at Qingnan Hospital was tempting; she had never been this financially strained before.