This time, Zhang Yang only needled the Yintang acupoint, but this needle was different from the previous ones; after Zhang Yang left, the silver needle remained vibrating in the Yintang acupoint, never stopping.

As the silver needle vibrated, Director Zhao's father’s eyelids began to flutter slightly, his breathing quickened, and the various figures on the nearby instruments started to change, all numbers trending toward improvement.

As Director Zhao showed a look of pleasant surprise, his father's fingers twitched, as if trying to grasp something.

"Dad, Daddy, how are you? How do you feel?"

Director Zhao quickly crouched beside the sickbed, tightly gripping his father’s hand. Doctor Yang and Director Ma’s eyes were wide open now.

This was a patient who hadn't even passed the critical period, one who might not even be saved. Such a patient, apart from normal reflex responses, absolutely should not show any other movement.

But what Director Zhao’s father was demonstrating now was like someone about to wake up, something they deemed absolutely impossible before, at least impossible to happen here.

"Dad!"

Director Zhao called out again. His father’s eyes had opened, though they held a trace of confusion. It was only upon seeing Director Zhao that they settled somewhat, and he too tightly gripped his son's hand.

"Dad, what do you want to say?"

Director Zhao hurriedly asked again. He was awake; his father was truly awake. It wasn't just Doctor Yang and Director Ma who were stunned stiff—Zhu Zhixiang and Wu Youdao were dumbfounded too.

Zhu Zhixiang had gained some confidence in Zhang Yang, but he hadn't expected the effect to be so immediate, actually saving the man's life. The joy he felt then was indescribable; it was like being forced to buy a lottery ticket only to discover he’d won the grand prize.

Wu Youdao just stared blankly. When he invited Zhang Yang, he only intended for him to alleviate the patient's cerebral ischemia—a problem their surgery couldn't solve, the main issue keeping the patient in critical condition.

But he never imagined Zhang Yang was so capable as to wake the patient directly. Alleviating the condition and waking the patient were two entirely different concepts.

"Too much time has passed; he cannot speak yet, but the man is out of danger now. As for the extent of his future recovery, that will depend on your own fortune!"

Zhang Yang suddenly said faintly, wiping the sweat from his brow, inwardly smiling bitterly.

Saving this patient had cost him dearly; all his internal energy was depleted. Now he felt a sense of collapse and weakness; if his spirit weren't holding him up, he might have fallen over just now.

Moreover, the patient's illness had lasted too long; even for him, one acupuncture session couldn't achieve a complete cure. Several more treatments would be necessary later, and even Zhang Yang wasn't entirely confident how much improvement would result.

The aftereffects of conditions like cerebral infarction are inherently severe.

Director Zhao paused for a moment before reacting, urgently asking, "Dr. Zhang, are you saying my father is alright now!" As Director Zhao spoke, a degree of deference naturally crept into his address.

"That’s right. He is out of the danger zone now, but he won't be truly conscious for another three days. I will return during these three days to perform follow-up treatments. If luck is with us, he might wake up on the fifth day. It’s a pity you notified me too late; if I had arrived two hours earlier, he could have woken up in one day at most, and the follow-up treatments wouldn't be so troublesome!"

Zhang Yang nodded gently, speaking while keeping his eyes closed, seizing the time to recover his internal energy and stamina.

Even in his past life, he rarely experienced such massive depletion; this time, he had truly exerted his utmost effort.

"President Zhu?"

Director Zhao gave a slight start and hurriedly glanced toward Zhu Zhixiang, a hint of anger still lingering in his eyes. Why hadn't they called such a capable doctor sooner, letting his father suffer and delaying treatment?

"Director Zhao, to be frank, Zhang Yang is just a resident doctor we are trying to recruit into the hospital; he hasn't officially joined yet, so we didn't dare approach him initially, fearing you might have other concerns!"

Zhu Zhixiang quickly leaned in close to Director Zhao and explained in a low voice. Director Zhao paused, then looked back at Zhang Yang before finally nodding.

He could understand what Zhu Zhixiang said. As the director of the Health Bureau, his father's illness would certainly be treated with the utmost care and caution by the affiliated hospital. Zhang Yang was simply too young, and trust in someone of that age was hard to come by.

If he were in that position and had any other options, he wouldn't have risked involving such a person; only in utmost desperation would one take a chance.

Now, he felt a wave of relief that President Zhu had the nerve to bring this young man over; otherwise, he might truly have lost his father today. This filled him with gratitude toward both President Zhu and Zhang Yang.

As for what Doctor Yang had said earlier, he had cast it aside. Seeing is believing, and he had personally watched his father’s eyes open to focus on him, and he had even felt the pressure of his father's grip.

His father had genuinely woken up once, which was enough proof that Zhang Yang's treatment was effective.

"Director Zhao, Old Zhao has been saved now, please rest assured. Our hospital will dedicate all efforts to treating Old Zhao!"

Zhu Zhixiang pressed his advantage, adding another sentence. Director Zhao nodded, the previous tension gone from his face, his expression considerably recovered.

While Zhu Zhixiang was speaking, he secretly glanced at Zhang Yang, an undisguised sense of pleasant surprise and relief shining in his eyes. If he hadn't resolved to invite Zhang Yang this time, the outcome was hard to imagine.

Everyone in the monitoring room, except for Doctor Yang, was somewhat excited now. Director Zhao was tending to his sleeping father, feeling his steady heartbeat and warmth.

Zhu Zhixiang, meanwhile, was speaking softly with Director Ma, his face alight with unconcealed excitement and pride.

After a while, Zhang Yang, having recovered some energy, slowly stood up and said to Elder Wu beside him, "Elder Wu, the patient is in your care now. I will write a prescription; please prepare the herbs, decoct them, and drip the juice slowly into the patient's mouth, two doses daily, without fail. I will return tomorrow evening to perform another session of needling!"

"Understood. Rest assured, I will personally watch over the patient!"

Wu Youdao slightly started, hastily agreeing. The look he gave Zhang Yang was complex; he had already overestimated Zhang Yang before, but in the end, he realized he had still underestimated him.

Saving a patient like this was already remarkable; curing him was something even a National Medical Master might not achieve. At least Wu Youdao knew he himself lacked that ability.

But now, it seemed Zhang Yang had not only saved the man but could also cure him. This level of skill was something even he had to look up to.

"Good, I should head back today. Please have Doctor Wang drive us back later!"

Zhang Yang nodded lightly. He had been out for quite some time. If this hadn't been an emergency case, he wouldn't have come out at all; he understood the critical importance of emergency patients.

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