sinovels Chapter 1398 Brothers
Chapter 1398 Brothers
Chapter 1398 Brothers
While newcomers like Zaxi were training tirelessly, Zhang Lin and Xiao Wu received invitations from the Municipal People's Hospital to become department heads.
Zhang Lin serves as the director of spinal surgery, and Lu Xiaowu serves as the director of joint and trauma surgery. The two departments are parallel and independent, with no superior-subordinate relationship.
Zhang Lin and Xiao Wu were always among the most inconspicuous people at the Sanbo Research Institute.
It sounds cruel, but it's the truth. Research institutes are never short of geniuses. Song Ziming, Xu Zhiliang, Xia Shu... these people seem to have been chosen by heaven. Their talent, comprehension, and intuition are all written in their genes. You can tell they're born for this as soon as they make a move.
Zhang Lin and Xiao Wu are not those kinds of people; they are just ordinary people.
It's not that they don't work hard; on the contrary, they are probably the hardest working people in the research institute.
Zhang Lin arrives at the department at six o'clock every morning, even earlier than the nurses on duty. He goes through the previous day's surgical records, examining each procedure one by one, breaking down every step the surgeon took and writing it down in his notebook. He writes slowly, but neatly, drawing diagrams after each step with arrows, circles, and dotted lines, clearly marking the anatomical structures and surgical pathways. He goes through his notebooks quickly, going through one every month, each one filled to the brim, like a hand-drawn surgical atlas.
Xiao Wu, on the other hand, made a different kind of effort. To memorize key knowledge points, he invented his own mnemonic method, turning all the core knowledge points into rhyming, catchy, and even somewhat humorous mnemonics. Anatomical structures were made into mnemonics, surgical procedures into mnemonics, and the management of complications into mnemonics as well. He recited them while walking, while eating, and even while using the toilet. His classmates laughed at him, calling him the "mnemonic doctor," and he laughed along, then continued reciting.
But sometimes hard work isn't enough.
No matter how hard they try, they are always at the bottom of the research institute. What they take more than ten days to master, others may master in just a few hours.
The two were very distressed by this, so they sat on the rooftop of the research institute, each with a can of beer.
"Do you think we're not really suited to be surgeons?" Zhang Lin suddenly asked.
Xiao Wu didn't say anything, but took a sip of beer. The beer was warm and had a slightly bitter taste.
“Look at Song Ziming and Xu Zhiliang,” Zhang Lin continued, “they can remember something after seeing it once, while we can’t remember it even after seeing it ten times. They are smooth and efficient on the operating table, while we are clumsy and flustered in the training room. They are already Professor Yang’s right-hand men, while we are still helping them by pulling hooks, and we can’t even hand them instruments properly.”
Xiao Wu placed the beer can on his lap and looked at the lights in the distance, which flickered on and off, as if they were breathing.
"Do you remember what Professor Yang said?" Xiao Wu asked. "He said there are two types of surgeons. One type is the genius type, who are born with a natural talent for hand-eye coordination and learn everything quickly. The other type is the craftsman type, who doesn't have much talent but relies on repeated practice to develop a feel for the procedure and improve their judgment. Whether they are geniuses or craftsmen, the goal is to perform the surgery well."
“We are craftsmen!” Xiao Wu said. “It doesn’t matter if we’re a little slow or clumsy. As long as we keep moving forward, we will eventually get there.”
Zhang Lin remained silent for a long time, then he raised his beer can and bumped it against Xiao Wu's. The aluminum cans collided with a dull thud, not crisp, but real.
"Then let's walk slowly," Zhang Lin said.
……
They really did just keep walking like that.
The decision to pursue a part-time doctorate was a joint one. After Yang Ping found out, he asked, "Have you thought this through? A part-time doctorate is not the same as a full-time one. You have to work during the day, attend classes on weekends, and do research at night. You won't have a break for three years."
Zhang Lin said, "I've thought it through."
Xiao Wu said, "I'm not afraid of being tired."
Yang Ping looked at them, nodded, and his eyes were full of encouragement.
These three years were indeed the most difficult three years of their lives.
During the day, I work at the hospital, making rounds, performing surgeries, managing patients, and writing medical records—I can't skip any of it. In the afternoons, I practice basic skills in the training room, without fail. On weekends, I attend classes at the medical school, listening to professors lecture on basic theories, cutting-edge advancements, and research methods. At night, I'm immersed in the library, researching literature, writing papers, and doing data analysis. My sleep time is compressed to four or five hours a day; sometimes I can fall asleep leaning against the wall in the on-call room, sometimes I fall asleep in front of the computer, waking up with the keyboard marks on my face.
In addition to these, they each have administrative positions in the department. Zhang Lin is the teaching secretary, in charge of interns, resident trainees, and visiting doctors. Xiao Wu is in charge of external liaison, and he is responsible for all kinds of academic conferences, visits, and collaborations in the department.
On Corey's side, they dared not tackle mainstream research topics, so they chose to focus solely on hook technology.
Because of this, they have been ridiculed countless times.
Song Ziming is already an associate chief physician, having independently performed thousands of surgeries and published over a dozen papers in core journals. Meanwhile, they're still meticulously checking data, revising papers again and again, and practicing surgical procedures late into the night in the training room. Some people say behind their backs, "Zhang Lin and Xiao Wu are just dragging the institute down. If it weren't for Professor Yang protecting them, they would have been eliminated long ago." Others joke to their faces, "Why are you two working so hard? No matter how hard you try, you can't compare to those geniuses."
When Zhang Lin heard these words, he didn't say anything and continued watching his film with his head down. When Xiao Wu heard this, he chuckled twice and said, "I'm just stupid, but the early bird catches the worm." Then he turned around and continued reciting his mantra.
They are not afraid of ridicule; they will stay on their own path and let others talk.
It's not because they're shameless, but because they understand that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Those who start fast may not reach the finish line first; only those who run steadily will reach the end. They are like old oxen, slow in pace, but every step is firm and solid, moving forward step by step until nightfall and dawn, until they reach their desired destination.
On the day of their doctoral defense, both of them were extremely nervous.
Zhang Lin stood on the defense panel, facing five professors, each a leading figure in the field. His PowerPoint presentation had been revised over a dozen times, with the color scheme, font, and animation effects on each slide adjusted to their optimal level. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but the content was solid, the data detailed, and the logic clear. The head of the defense committee asked him several questions, which he answered correctly—not with a genius-like ability to extrapolate, but by honestly reiterating the evidence from the literature and his own analysis. After listening, the committee head nodded and said, "The amount of data is substantial, and the workload is considerable; it's clear you've put in a lot of effort."
When Xiao Wu defended his dissertation, his PowerPoint presentation wasn't as polished as Zhang Lin's, but his delivery was smooth and seamless, flowing effortlessly from beginning to end without any pauses or forgotten lines—it was like a well-rehearsed stand-up comedy routine. The professors on the defense committee were amused, but after the laughter subsided, they realized that he had all the necessary content, data, and analysis. The group leader remarked, "Your defense is the most unique one I've heard this year."
On the day the defense results were announced, both of them passed. Zhang Lin's thesis was rated "excellent," and Xiao Wu's thesis was recommended for publication in a journal. They stood at the entrance of the research institute, looking at the posted announcement, and neither of them said a word.
After a long while, Zhang Lin said, "We are PhDs now too."
Xiao Wu said, "Mm."
After a while, Xiao Wu said, "The evaluation for associate chief physician will be coming up soon." Zhang Lin said, "Yes."
Then the two looked at each other and suddenly laughed. They laughed so loudly that a passing nurse turned to look at them, and something welled up in their eyes. It wasn't a proud laugh, nor a laugh of relief, but a laugh of "finally made it," like someone who had walked a long, dark road and finally saw a glimmer of light on the horizon—not the sun, just the dawn, but enough to illuminate the path ahead.
……
Zhang Lin pondered this several times. Spinal surgery was the focus of his doctoral research and the field he had been deeply involved in for many years. He had experience with lumbar, cervical, and thoracic spine surgeries, from degenerative changes to traumatic fractures, from conservative treatment to surgical intervention. He wasn't a top expert capable of performing the most complex surgeries, but his surgeries were steady, with low complication rates, good postoperative recovery, and high patient satisfaction. His surgical style was unpretentious and risk-averse; every step was taken with a solid foundation.
Xiao Wu's expertise lies in trauma and joint surgery. Hip fractures, knee replacements, and shoulder injuries are among the surgeries he has performed most frequently over the years. While his hands aren't particularly skillful, his judgment is excellent. He knows which patients are suitable for which surgeries, when to perform them, and how to handle unexpected situations during surgery. His surgical style is unhurried and methodical, performing every necessary step without skipping any unnecessary procedures.
The two people stood on the rooftop of the research institute, enjoying the breeze.
"Are you going?" Zhang Lin asked.
"What do you think?" Xiao Wu asked in return.
“I want to go,” Zhang Lin said. “I’ve learned a lot over the years at Sanbo… I want to see if I can manage a department.”
Xiao Wu nodded; he understood that feeling. In a top-tier hospital like Sanbo, there are too many geniuses; craftsmen will always be relegated to the back. It's not because you're not good enough, but because others are better. This isn't unfair; it's reality. But reality doesn't mean you have to accept your fate. You can choose to leave, go to a place that needs you, do things your own way, lead people, and build a world for craftsmen.
“I’ll go too,” Xiao Wu said. “I’m in charge of trauma joint surgery all by myself, and I want to give it a try.”
Zhang Lin looked at him: "Aren't you afraid?"
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid of not doing well, afraid of being told, 'People from Sanbo are nothing special.'"
Xiao Wu thought for a moment and said, "I'm scared, but I have to go. Professor Yang said that the growth of a surgeon is divided into three stages. The first stage is learning, learning from others and seeing how they do it. The second stage is doing it yourself, performing surgery independently and making independent decisions. The third stage is teaching, passing on your experience to others. I've been at Sanbo for so many years, and I've made it through the first stage. Now it's time to go to the second stage."
He paused, then said, "Moreover, the Municipal People's Hospital isn't like Sanbo Hospital; it doesn't have that many geniuses. The doctors there are probably just ordinary people like us. They need someone who understands them, someone who knows how ordinary people learn surgery. Song Ziming can't be that person, nor can Xu Zhiliang, because he's too smart. He doesn't understand why ordinary people can't learn it. But I do understand, because I am an ordinary person."
As Zhang Lin listened, he suddenly felt a lump in his throat. He remembered that night on the rooftop, when Xiao Wu said, "We're craftsmen; it's okay to be a little slow, it's okay to be a little slow." So many years had passed, and Xiao Wu was still the same Xiao Wu, knowing he was slow and clumsy, but he had never stopped. He turned "clumsiness" into an advantage, and "slowness" into a style. He knew how ordinary people learned, because he himself had learned step by step.
“Then let’s go together.” Zhang Lin extended his hand.
Xiao Wu grasped them. Both hands were rough, with thin calluses from years of handling instruments between the fingers and dry lines from repeated washing on the palms. These weren't the hands of a genius; they lacked innate dexterity and precision. But these hands had handled countless instruments, sewn countless stitches, turned countless pages of documents, and written countless lines of notes. They weren't beautiful, but they were reliable.
The two used to always perform surgeries together, and now that they are department heads, a large orthopedic department has been split in two, with each of them taking half.
……
Both of them went to say goodbye to Yang Ping.
Yang Ping was still sitting behind that desk, a document spread out in front of him, the water in his teacup still cold. He looked up at them, nodded, and said, "Go and do a good job. This place will always be your support."
Zhang Lin and Xiao Wu wanted to say something, but after opening their mouths, they only managed to say, "Professor Yang, thank you."
Yang Ping said calmly, "All good things must come to an end. Let's go."
Zhang Lin and Xiao Wu walked out of the office, gently closing the door behind them, and walked side by side.
"Are you nervous?" Zhang Lin asked.
"A little," Xiao Wu said. "What about you?"
"A little."
"We're department heads now, so let's cheer up."
"Yes, now that I'm the department head, I have to be on my toes."
They reached the elevator, and Zhang Lin pressed the down button. The elevator doors opened, but no one was inside. They stepped inside, and the doors closed. As the elevator descended, neither of them spoke; their shadows were cast on the metal walls.
Actually, they were very reluctant to leave, but Professor Yang said, "The sky is high enough for birds to fly, and the sea is wide enough for fish to leap. Go out and create your own world."
The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened. Sunlight streamed in from the hospital doors, illuminating the floor tiles. They stepped out of the elevator, crossed the lobby, and exited the hospital; the world outside was vast.
Zhang Lin took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Xiao Wu nodded and followed him. The two walked into the sunlight, their shadows stretched long and cast on the paving stones behind them.
They are brothers, the kind of brothers who have stayed up all night together, been scolded together, drunk beer together on the rooftop, and practiced until their fingers trembled in the training room. They are not geniuses, but they have walked the path that geniuses have also walked.