Midway through lunch, the teaching secretary rushed in: "We need to place a central line in the new patient in Bed 23. Anyone interested in coming to observe?"
Ye Wushu was eager to learn: "Yes! Teacher!"
Lu Junran didn't really want to go. His reasons for being on clinical rotation were twofold—first, it was standard practice for neurosurgery master's or doctoral students, and second, he was helping collect data for the research group. In the ICU, he just wanted to be a slacker.
But his partner was so proactive that he couldn't afford to stand out as the odd one out.
So a peculiar scene unfolded in the ICU: two little tails followed behind Dr. Wu Yue from Critical Care Medicine—one steady, the other lively.
Ye Wushu eagerly went to grab the central line kit, suture kit, and disposable sterilization kit.
Just as she was about to fetch the ultrasound machine, Wu Yue stopped her: "What do you need an ultrasound for? The femoral vein is easy enough to hit blind."
Ye Wushu was stunned: "Huh? Is that so?"
Wu Yue realized she'd misspoken: "Ahem, ahem. That's because we teachers are more experienced and can do blind sticks. For beginners, you should follow the textbook standard and perform the puncture under ultrasound guidance."
"Xiao Ye, go get the machine—it's in the room directly across from the VIP area."
Ye Wushu was about to step forward when a hand reached out from beside her and held her back: "I'll go get it. You stay and learn from the teacher."
Lu Junran didn't want to learn. As his senior had put it: if he was going to become a doctor, there would be endless work like this; if he wasn't going to be a doctor and would join a company instead, there was even less reason to learn these procedures.
Wu Yue had sharp eyes and could tell that only Ye Wushu was genuinely interested in learning.
She didn't mind. She had reached an age where she could understand both perspectives.
On one hand, Wu Yue completely understood Lu Junran's reluctance to work—she'd been the same way back in her day. On the other hand, as a teacher, she genuinely wanted to teach them something useful.
No one was wrong; it was the system that was unreasonable.
Wu Yue's gaze at Ye Wushu grew increasingly fond. What an adorable young girl—passionate, full of vitality, and eager to learn. She made even this "old-timer" who'd been working for years feel alive again.
"Xiao Ye, what year were you born?"
"Teacher, I was born in 2001."
Wu Yue felt the sting: "Oh, my god."
Lu Junran wheeled the machine over and added: "I was born in 2000."
Wu Yue: "…" I didn't ask you.
Lu Junran just wanted to make it clear that he wasn't that old either.
After wheeling the machine over, Lu Junran dutifully stepped to the side and watched the teacher instruct his junior on disinfection and draping.
He furrowed his brow.
"The femoral vein is generally medial to the femoral artery. The femoral artery pulse is very obvious—have you ever drawn a blood gas… it's fine, drawing a blood gas is also very simple…"
"Then we use ultrasound to take a look. See this one with the obvious pulse—that's the femoral artery. The one next to it—if we apply a little pressure with the probe, the one that compresses is the vein…"
"Since we're using ultrasound guidance, we can go in directly with a large-bore needle. If you do blind sticks on your own later, you should first try with a small needle. The femoral vein is generally safe, but be careful with the internal jugular and subclavian."
Wu Yue inserted the needle, and dark red blood surged up, instantly filling the syringe chamber.
Ye Wushu exclaimed in genuine admiration: "Dr. Wu, you're amazing!"
Wu Yue's lips curved upward and didn't come down for a long time.
For Wu Yue, this was routine—something she'd done so many times she was sick of it, so many times she'd throw out the question to every new trainee: "Do you want to give it a try?"
That said, Wu Yue had supervised many new clinical trainees over the years, but none had given her such overwhelming emotional value as Ye Wushu.
After pulling off her gloves, Wu Yue couldn't resist and patted Ye Wushu on the head.
Ye Wushu: !!
Wu Yue pretended not to notice the young girl's pained expression and continued teaching: "For patients in the ICU, placing central lines is very common. Many patients need vasoactive medications, and if they all go through peripheral lines, the vessels can easily necrotize."
Ye Wushu nodded seriously: "Mm-hmm." Like an eager little squirrel.
Wu Yue felt her heart melt completely.
1:30 PM.
Ye Wushu was buried in the computer writing up the medical history, occasionally replying to messages from the nurses in the group chat.
Her motto was to respond to every message:
[Okay]
[Done]
[Coming right away]
"Senior, do you know how to write surgical orders?" Ye Wushu looked up, about to ask for help, only to find no one beside her.
Little Ye didn't think much of it and continued working.
An hour passed, and her senior still hadn't appeared. Ye Wushu thought about sending him a message but realized she didn't even have Lu Junran's contact information.
She thought for a moment, then scrolled through the ICU group chat to find Lu Junran—Amino.
Amino? As in the amino group?
After Ye Wushu sent her friend request, it sat there unapproved for a long time.
During the afternoon rounds, the attending appeared with some bad news: "Oh! Lu Junran went back to help his group—apparently there's a multiple trauma case coming in through the ER."
Clearly, Wu Yue wasn't too happy either, and his address for Lu Junran went straight from "Little Lu" to his full name.
If you're rotating through the ICU, then just stay put. What's the point of always running back?
But… that was the academician's group. Forget it, not worth provoking.
"Little Ye, once we finish rounds, you can head off for the day. Have Lu Junran come back and fill in the previous group's medical records when he's done."
"Got it, teacher!"
But Little Ye was on her first day today and hadn't even finished writing her own medical records. After rounds, Ye Wushu continued frantically catching up on records. One patient had been in the ICU for nearly six months, and the previous student had left over a week's worth of records unwritten. On top of that, it happened to be the day for writing the stage summary…
Ye Wushu sent her senior fellow apprentice a WeChat message to vent: [So infuriating, how can someone not write their medical records and leave them for the next person to catch up on?]
Her senior fellow apprentice was furious upon hearing this and rolled up her sleeves, ready to post a bounty in the residency training group to find this jerk—only to discover that this person had already graduated last month.
Oh, no wonder.
Ye Wushu could only resign herself to her bad luck.
At 6 PM, a new patient arrived at the ICU—a post-operative emergency neurosurgery case. They had called an hour earlier saying the condition was critical, and Ye Wushu didn't dare take it lightly. She quickly jumped up from her seat.
Looking up, she saw a male doctor standing beside the gurney, wearing blue surgical scrubs underneath and a white coat over them, a surgical cap on his head, hands casually tucked into his pockets…
"Senior fellow apprentice?" Ye Wushu asked. "Why are you the one bringing this patient? Is this from your group?"
Lu Junran nodded, and the tense energy around him suddenly relaxed.
He didn't know why, but being around his junior fellow apprentice made him feel at ease.
He had just come down from an emergency surgery—a car accident victim who had been hit by a large truck at a street corner, suffering severe traumatic brain injury. By the time they reached the operating room, saying blood was pouring from all seven orifices wouldn't have been an exaggeration.
Because the family believed the truck driver bore primary responsibility, their desire for resuscitation was strong, even though the on-call neurosurgeon that night had told them that surgery would be futile.
The moment the bone flap was lifted, blood sprayed out, accompanied by the blaring alarms of the monitors.
This type of brain trauma surgery was considered basic in neurosurgery, usually performed by the first-line on-call doctor of the day—an attending or a senior resident.
Lu Junran wasn't qualified to operate yet. He had only been called over by his senior fellow apprentice to help, standing by with a suction device to clear blood and such.
He had been splattered with blood. Though after the surgery ended, he removed his surgical gown and checked himself over, confirming there were no suspicious exposure points.
Still, that kind of experience was never pleasant.
"This patient came in through the emergency department." Lu Junran was handing off to his junior fellow apprentice, then paused. "Maybe you should call today's attending on duty. This person's condition is very serious—they might not make it through the night."
"Okay, okay!" Ye Wushu darted back like a rabbit to find the teacher.
It was too dangerous! It was only her first day! Ye Wushu barely concealed her panic as she rushed into the office.
The evening senior staff had already changed shifts—it was now a male teacher named Ni Li.
So Ni Li went to check on the patient's condition, while Ye Wushu sat back down at her "designated front desk"—yes, that spot right at the ICU entrance, directly facing the nurse's station.
After a while, Lu Junran came over and sat down. He still had a pile of medical records to write.
His face was grim, his mood mediocre.
Just then, his junior fellow apprentice leaned in like a little rabbit: "Senior fellow apprentice, what was the deal with that patient just now?"
Those big, watery eyes of hers clearly said: Senior fellow apprentice, I want the tea.