The Godfather of Surgery

Yang Ping wasn't much of a drinker—he couldn't even be considered bronze-level. He'd had a bit too much to drink last night, and his head was pounding.

Xiao Wu, that guy, spent the whole night babbling nonsense, something about treasures, little ones, and small greens. Then, he just collapsed on the bed and passed out.

Yang Ping had no choice but to roll out a makeshift bed against the wall and sleep on the floor. When he woke up, Xiao Wu was nowhere to be found. The guy had this habit of vanishing without a trace.

Yang Ping rubbed his temples and checked his phone—it was already past 11 AM. Damn! No time to shower or get ready, he rushed out the door.

He got to the stairs, then slapped his forehead: Wait, didn't I get fired yesterday? There's no shift for me today. What am I rushing for?

He turned around, went back to his room, and quickly washed up. Downstairs, he grabbed a couple of lamb-filled baozi to eat. Once he was back in his room, he opened his laptop and spent a good while browsing through various doctor CV templates. He filled out one, double-checked it, then went on to read through every recruitment notice from hospitals in G City, casting a wide net. He sent his CV to all sorts of hospitals, from large ones to small community clinics. He figured it was worth a shot—something had to click.

If he couldn't find a job in G City, he would have to leave.

Leave G City? No, that was not an option.

He'd invested too much into his life here. Yang Ping had to try everything before considering that.

After sending out all the applications, days passed without a word. Bored, Yang Ping decided to log into the system and check the space, remembering that completing the street-side rescue had earned him another experience pack.

He opened the treasure chest, revealing a new pack: Basic Surgical Skills Training.

Yang Ping opened the training pack and began the session.

The surgical table rose out of nowhere, and on it lay a prepared experimental subject.

"This training will last three months," the female voice explained.

Three months? No food, no sleep, no rest, just continuous training? Was this for real? Who even thought this up?

It was real devil training. The kind that pushed the limits of human endurance.

"Incision, suturing, separation, knotting, hemostasis—five basic surgical skills training, now beginning!" Before Yang Ping could process what was happening, the training had already started.

Yang Ping focused and began applying everything he had learned about surgical techniques. Various incisions in different shapes, different layers of tissue, different angles; interrupted sutures, continuous sutures, purse-string sutures, vascular sutures, nerve sutures, tendon sutures, skin sutures, fascia sutures; finger separation, vascular clamp separation, scissors separation, scalpel separation, and sharp knife separation.

Single-hand knotting, double-hand knotting, and instrument knotting.

He repeated each technique countless times. At first, it was a single skill at a time. The system rated each one. When it was completed, he moved on to the next. After mastering all five basic skills, he entered the integrated training phase.

This kind of concentrated, intense training was incredibly efficient. Just for vascular anastomosis, Yang Ping had sutured hundreds of blood vessels. At first, it took him ten to fifteen minutes for each vessel. Over time, he was able to do it in just a few minutes. At first, the anastomosis was crooked, but soon, it was perfect, with equal spacing between stitches and beautiful results.

In reality, there was no time to practice basic surgical skills like this. Even if you carved out an hour a day to practice, it would take about 2,160 days—roughly six years—to achieve this kind of proficiency. How many people have the patience and persistence for that? Very few!

This training pack was like having 6 years of practice compressed into one go. It allowed Yang Ping to practice like he was doing one hour of surgical training every single day for 6 years.

The training ended, and the surgical table and experimental subject vanished.

Days passed in what felt like agony. Yang Ping didn't even know how to get through those days. Every time he picked up a book, he read the same page over and over again. His copy of Orthopedic Surgery was nearly worn out from being flipped through so many times.

Finally, the phone rang. It was from Sanbo Hospital—the hospital with a helipad on the roof.

He had heard of this hospital. It had been established only a little over ten years ago by an overseas Chinese businessman, so the locals often referred to it as "the Overseas Chinese Hospital." Despite being a tertiary hospital, it was relatively unknown compared to bigger names like South City Medical University and G City People's Hospital.

The hospital's location was somewhat remote, so it didn't have as much fame, but it was still a major hospital, and its hiring requirements were tough. The job postings clearly stated that they only accepted candidates with a master's degree or above, and the applicants had to come from 211 or 985 universities.

So getting in there meant you either had strong connections or were highly qualified.

But now that they had called him, Yang Ping wasn't going to waste the opportunity. Maybe they had an urgent opening that might lower the standards. For example, the obstetrics and gynecology department might want to increase the male doctor ratio to improve team cohesion.

For survival, Yang Ping was more than willing to slightly adjust his career direction.

He pulled out his $30 name-brand bag and his cheap, old suit, both of which had been sitting unused for years.

Yang Ping stood confidently at the entrance of Sanbo Hospital, dressed in his suit, with a black leather bag in hand. He looked up at the twin towers that made up the main building of the hospital. On the top floor, a helicopter was descending.

The interview was to take place in the orthopedic department's teaching room. A large group of people had already gathered. Yang Ping didn't bother counting, but it was clearly a packed room.

He overheard some whispers: "On the left is Beijing Medical University, and on the right is West China. Not a single slouch in here," one doctor murmured.

Yang Ping frowned. Could it be that HR had called the wrong person? Maybe he was just there to make up the numbers, and they had already chosen the candidates.

The orthopedic department's head, Han Jianguo, was standing at the front. He wasn't tall, but he was strong and solid-looking. His short, thick hair and sharp eyes gave him a commanding presence. He raised a list of names and said:

"Normally, we start with a written exam, followed by a practical skills test. Today, we're going to do it the other way around. Why? Because surgeons must have hands-on ability. Without that, everything else is just theory! If you fail the practical test, you're out. If you pass, you'll move on to the written test. Now, Dr. Song Zimo will explain the practical exam."

Yang Ping glanced at Dr. Song Zimo. The guy looked like a genius, and he was. Song Zimo had a Ph.D. from Fudan University and had specialized in microsurgery. He had performed 100 rat tail surgeries with a 100% success rate and was the fastest among all his peers.

Yang Ping sized him up. In his twenties, Song Zimo stood at least 6 feet tall, had a well-proportioned build, sharp features, and a strong jawline. He was the textbook definition of handsome.

But this had nothing to do with Yang Ping. He was just there to interview.

"Welcome to Sanbo Hospital," Song Zimo began, speaking with authority. "Though we've only been around for a little over ten years, our medical standards are on par with any hospital in G City. If you work hard, we'll give you ample room to grow. We offer training, opportunities for further study, and even international exchanges…"

"Sounds like someone's been rehearsing," Yang Ping mumbled under his breath.

"You don't know Sanbo?" a nearby doctor whispered. "Do you know who just spoke? That was Han Jianguo, the trauma orthopedic leader from the Sixth Hospital in Magic City."

"Really?" Yang Ping asked, genuinely surprised.

"Really!" the doctor said. "This hospital has a reputation, and the benefits must be incredible!"

Yang Ping raised his hand, gesturing to his own priorities: Money!

"Such a small-time focus," the doctor muttered, rolling his eyes.

At that moment, an assistant handed out exam papers with scoring rubrics for the practical exam.

Yang Ping's eyes widened when he saw the title of the job: Emergency Department Resident.

What the hell? He was applying for an orthopedic position, but they were offering him a position in the emergency department? Did they make a mistake? Should he raise his hand and ask? Nah, he decided to finish the exam and figure it out later.

Song Zimo's voice rang out: "On your desk, you'll find a practice knotting mold with some prepared thread. When I say start, you'll begin tying knots with your hands. I'll call stop, and you'll stop. Remember, this is a basic surgical skill. If you can't even tie a good knot, what's the point of anything else?"

The assistant chimed in, "Dr. Song Zimo can tie 143 square knots in a minute. That's 286 standard knots, and that's the hospital record!"

Yang Ping thought, Challenge accepted. He began tying knots, and within a minute, he had completed 241 square knots—an astonishing number that turned heads.

"241 knots? Impossible!" Song Zimo and the assistant both checked the counter in disbelief.

After a second check, the new counter confirmed it—241 square knots, or 482 standard knots.

Song Zimo, visibly shaken, asked, "How long have you been practicing this?"

Yang Ping replied nonchalantly, "Who practices this stuff all the time? I learned it when I was in school."

Song Zimo was stunned. He had never met someone who could tie knots like this so casually.

Then, the next part of the test began: hemostasis, followed by incision and dissection training. Yang Ping breezed through them all, his hands moving so fluidly that even the instructors took note.

By the end of the test, Han Jianguo and Song Zimo had both reviewed Yang Ping's performance. Han Jianguo glanced at the form, crossed out "Emergency Resident," and wrote "Orthopedic Resident" in bold letters.

Wait. You're going to make me an orthopedic resident?

Yang Ping had no objections. It was a huge improvement compared to what he expected.

As the day came to a close, Yang Ping finally felt like his luck was turning around.