“Everyday Life in the NICU” by Shu Yueqing
Exclusive debut on 2026.6.1
My senior female student said that only the day you pass the graduate school entrance exam and the day you receive your admission letter are happy days. It shouldn’t be that scary, right? Ye Wushu thought. — Epigraph
7:30 AM.
Ye Wushu waited for three elevators in the first-floor elevator lobby before finally squeezing in, pressed against the elevator doors.
Today was her first day rotating to a new department—she absolutely couldn’t be late… But the moment the elevator doors opened, Ye Wushu glanced at her iWatch. 7:40.
Damn it!
Her stress levels immediately skyrocketed.
Ye Wushu practically tiptoed into the conference room, trying her hardest not to make a single sound with her footsteps.
The morning handover had already begun. She was late, so she could only sit in the front row.
That was extremely uncomfortable.
Directly in front of Ye Wushu, presenting the PowerPoint, was the on-call doctor from last night; and to her right, occasionally offering comments, was the ward director.
Ye Wushu didn’t recognize him—she only identified him by the “golden director badge” on his white coat.
Taking advantage of no one’s attention, Ye Wushu grabbed a handover sheet from the table, which recorded the current bed patients in the ICU, their primary diagnoses, and their co-managing doctors.
Ye Wushu quickly scanned it. Every diagnosis was alarming. She was reminded of what her senior fellow disciple had told her:
“Ah, you poor thing, why is your first month in the ICU? You can only pray for good luck… Oh! And whatever you do, don’t cause trouble. If it really comes down to it, bring out our advisor to save you.”
Ye Wushu’s advisor was a renowned expert in neurology, a candidate for academician, and currently a Distinguished Young Scholar.
But the fact that she’d gotten in was pure dumb luck. After joining the group, more than one senior student had privately asked her whether she’d pulled some strings.
Her thoughts drifted away, and Ye Wushu quickly forced herself to focus and listen carefully to the on-call doctor’s handover. She didn’t want to cause trouble—she just wanted to keep her head down and survive these three years, smoothly obtaining her “four certificates.” (Graduation certificate, degree certificate, standardized residency training certificate, and medical practitioner certificate.)
The 30-minute handover left her dizzy, and she hadn’t retained a single piece of useful information.
When the handover ended, Ye Wushu followed the crowd out toward the ICU ward.
Just as she reached the door, she collided with a young man.
“Sorry, sorry!”
Ye Wushu rubbed her head and looked up. The first thing she saw was his name badge: Lu Junran, PhD student, Neurosurgery.
She didn’t notice his face, because her glasses had been knocked askew.
By the time she wiped her glasses and put them back on, he was already greeting the director: “Sorry, I’m late…”
The director, a little old man, smiled warmly. “No worries, no worries. I’ve already been told you were in surgery with Director Shao last night. It’s fine for you to come a bit later.”
Director Shao of Neurosurgery—Academician Shao Hua. Oh, so he’s a connection. Ye Wushu thought.
This person was probably her “partner” for this month’s rotation.
Her senior fellow apprentice said that every 1-3 months she’d switch departments and get a new “partner,” and how reliable her partner was directly determined how exhausted she’d be.
“You need to know, extraordinary people show up every year…”
After rounds ended, the ICU’s teaching secretary specifically called Ye Wushu and Lu Junran aside. “You two are the standardized training residents this month, right? Let me go over some important points with you.”
The tall, thin young man standing beside her suddenly spoke up: “Teacher, I’m a doctoral student.”
“Oh, oh!” The teaching secretary paused. “Look at my memory—this month we only have one standardized training resident, plus one doctoral student from neurosurgery.”
The teaching secretary looked at the two of them. “How about you introduce yourselves first?”
“I’m Lu Junran, direct-track PhD from the Class of ’22 in neurosurgery, second year. My advisor is Professor Shao Hua.”
Lu Junran’s introduction was simple and crisp. Ye Wushu followed suit: “My name is Ye Wushu, professional master’s student from the Class of ’23 in neurology, first year. My advisor is Professor Xiang Qingxin.”
“Ye Wushu?” The teaching secretary’s eyes lit up. “Student, you’re suited for our department! How’s your luck on call duty?”
Before she’d even graduated, Ye Wushu had been offered a job. But… she answered honestly: “Teacher, I haven’t done any on-call shifts yet.”
“Oh! Right! I forgot—you’re in your first year. Never mind then.” The teaching secretary looked slightly disappointed. She turned her gaze to Lu Junran.
Lu Junran spoke up: “Teacher, this is also my first time in clinical practice.”
The teaching secretary’s eyes darkened: “Great. This month we’ve got two rookies.”
“It’s fine.” The teaching secretary comforted herself. “You’ll learn as you go. Let me first give you a tour of the ward.”
“Our sixth-floor ICU has 40 beds total. Beds 1-15 are the front group, 16-30 are the back group, and beds 31-40 are reserved for liver transplant patients. They have their own dedicated doctors, so generally we don’t need to manage them. Oh, but…”
The teaching secretary paused. “But when there’s an emergency in the middle of the night, we all pitch in together—no dividing things into yours and mine, got it?”
“Also… actually, this used to be the neurosurgery ICU, but after the new surgical building was completed, they moved to the new building. So now we also have patients from other surgical departments here…”
Ye Wushu took notes diligently.
Lu Junran stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gait steady and composed, looking every bit the seasoned professional.
But once they returned to the doctors’ office, Lu Junran turned to Ye Wushu and asked: “Junior sister, which beds did the attending just say are under our direct care?”
Ye Wushu: “…” She had a sinking feeling about this.
“Beds 2, 4, 6, 8, 12, 14, 16, 18, 22, 24, and 26.”
She received his sincere praise: “Junior sister, you have an excellent memory.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The teaching secretary had been halfway through their ward rounds when she was “hijacked” by the nurses:
“Sister Yue, bed 2 is almost out of norepinephrine, need a refill…”
“Sister, bed 8’s dialysis catheter is blocked…”
“Should we stop the antibiotics for bed 16?”
By the time she finished and returned, fine beads of sweat had already formed on her forehead.
“Phew—” The teaching secretary sat down in her chair and let out a long sigh. “Where was I?”
Ye Wushu promptly picked up the thread: “Teacher, you were just saying that antibiotics can’t be stopped arbitrarily.”
“Right, right!” The teaching secretary immediately emphasized, “And it’s not just antibiotics—for all orders on co-managed patients, if you want to discontinue anything, you have to ask their original doctors in the group chat first…”
The teaching secretary slapped her forehead. “Oh! I haven’t added you to the group chats yet. Come, come…”
Within less than a minute, Ye Wushu’s pinned WeChat chats had gained over a dozen new groups.
They were: 【6th Floor ICU Medical-Nursing Communication Group】
【6th Floor ICU Doctors Group】
【Emergency-ICU Communication Group】
【Orthopedics-ICU Communication Group】
【Professor Shao Hua Neurosurgery Team-ICU Communication Group】
【Surgical Sign-Off Communication Group】
…
The moment Ye Wushu was added, a flood of messages came pouring in one after another.
【Bed 13 has surgery tomorrow, put in the blood reservation order】
【Bed 14 critical value (image) (image)】
【Bed 18 melena (image) (image)】
【Should bed 26 get heparin tonight?】
Great. She could already foresee how miserable these three months in the ICU were going to be.
“In short!” The teaching secretary emphasized again, “If you’re going to touch someone else’s orders, you must announce it in the group chat. Don’t let them come knocking on our door, understand?”
“Also, for our own patients, you need to write progress notes every day. Don’t forget. Some patients have been in the ICU for a long time—don’t write identical progress notes every day just to be lazy. You’ll get fined…”
Ye Wushu asked timidly: “How much is the fine?”
The teaching secretary said: “It used to be 500 per note, now it’s 1000 per note. And if you’re missing resuscitation records or critical illness notifications, those are 3000 per document…”
Ye Wushu sucked in a cold breath: “Okay! Got it!”
“That should be about it… Oh! There’s also the on-call schedule. Here’s how it works now: Monday through Friday you work day shifts, 8:00-17:00, but you need to come in at 7:30 for handover. On weekends, you’ll do one 24-hour shift each, one person per day—you two can coordinate that yourselves.”
The teaching secretary nodded with satisfaction, feeling that her orientation had been very thorough. She was just about to leave when she met Ye Wushu’s clear eyes:
“Teacher, I don’t know how to use the medical records system yet…”
The teaching secretary sighed, sat back down, and started teaching from the very beginning.
“This is our medical records system…”
Ye Wushu hurriedly jotted down notes in her little notebook. Seeing this, the teaching secretary felt quite gratified. “That should be about it, right? If you run into anything you don’t know during practice, just ask the senior on duty that day.”
“Alright, I’m going to go have some coffee and decompress. You two study up for now.”
No sooner had the teaching secretary left than a nurse came looking for Ye Wushu:
“Bed 8 needs stitches removed. Is bed 27 being transferred out today? If so, put in the order as soon as possible. Bed 32 says his stomach hurts and his family is very anxious—should we do something about it… Oh! Right, bed 4 needs 3 doses of propofol and 2 doses of midazolam…”
“Okay, okay.” Ye Wushu began frantically flipping through the medical records system, while Lu Junran calmly leaned his head over:
“Junior sister, why don’t you teach me?”
How could there exist such a shameless person in this world!