Qi Yue pushed open the door to the physicians' office, and the quiet murmur of the residents taking notes and chatting ceased momentarily. “Xiao Sun, are you in charge of Bed 18?” Qi Yue asked.

A young man, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, quickly stood up, a flicker of unease on his face. The atmosphere in the office grew somewhat tense.

“There are a few errors in your charting; come with me for a moment,” Qi Yue stated, turning and walking away. Dr.

Sun couldn’t help but look at the others; they all gave him a look of silent sympathy. “Dr.

Qi…” Dr. Sun hurried after Qi Yue, entering an examination room.

It was a patient admitted that morning with blunt chest trauma. As Dr.

Sun followed her in, Qi Yue was already leaning over the patient, conducting an examination. “Tian Youcai, Tian Youcai,” she called out, raising her voice to the patient.

The patient shifted his head, his lips parting, seeming to make a sound, yet perhaps not. Qi Yue turned to look at Dr.

Sun. Dr.

Sun looked slightly confused. “Your chart states this patient is comatose,” Qi Yue said, holding the chart out to him.

“But the patient occasionally responds to sound. How should we chart that?” Dr.

Sun grunted in realization. “Yes, he still has some reaction to language, can be roused, and falls back asleep when stimulation stops,” he replied.

Qi Yue nodded slowly. “What should this be then?” she inquired.

“Stupor,” Dr. Sun murmured, a hint of shame in his voice, lowering his head, bracing himself for the chart to be slapped at him, followed by a thorough dressing-down, just like before.

“Pay closer attention next time. One misplaced word can affect the diagnoses of the doctors coming after you.

This is life and death; there’s no room for carelessness.” Qi Yue handed the chart back to him, patted his arm lightly, and walked out. Dr.

Sun stood for a moment, slightly dazed, holding the medical chart. When he stepped back into the office, he was still somewhat disoriented.

Everyone else immediately swarmed him. “Did she chew you out?” “Did she slam the chart down on your head?” “Did she ask who your supervisor was this time?” They peppered him with questions all at once.

Dr. Sun looked down at the chart, then up at his arm.

“No,” he said. They all froze.

“Dr. Qi personally demonstrated a teaching moment, nothing more,” Dr.

Sun stated, sounding almost disbelieving to himself. Was this really the sharp, competent, and famously prickly Cardiothoracic 'Little Quick Blade' Qi Yue, the top student from medical school and a rising star in the hospital?

The same Qi Yue who claimed she detested fools and hated wasting breath talking to idiots? “Hey, maybe the anger center in her brain isn't working anymore?” someone suggested, pointing toward their own head.

This guess seemed plausible, and everyone nodded, smiling faintly. Having made this observation, the residents began to watch Qi Yue even more closely.

“Hey, guess what I just saw in the outpatient clinic…” “…What?” “…A family refused to let their patient get a CT or MRI… Said they checked at home and everything was fine, and even brought the old films… Guess what Dr. Qi said?” “…Something like, ‘Are you the doctor or am I?’” “…Wrong.

She explained patiently. And you know what happened in the end?” “What?” “Dr.

Qi told them to go ahead with the scans, she’d cover the cost herself, and if anything was found, they could pay her back.” The office erupted in murmurs. “I heard that after a serious head injury, some people’s personalities genuinely change drastically.” “Have you noticed?

Dr. Qi is really different now, like a whole new person…” “Right, right.

Maybe she was… time-traveled?” an intern blurted out, quickly covering her mouth with a nervous look, eyes wide. This remark earned her several gentle smacks on the head from her colleagues.

“Yeah, time-traveled! Maybe her soul inhabited someone else’s body!

Xiaomei, did you watch another horror movie on duty last night?” someone joked. The office burst into laughter.

A knock sounded at the door. Everyone quickly looked up to see the Chief Resident staring in with a grim and serious expression.

“It’s work time,” he stated flatly. They immediately lowered their heads, tidying the items on their desks.

The benefit of being on duty in the outpatient clinic was strict adherence to working hours. While her colleagues packed up, they saw Qi Yue still seated, reading a book.

“Qi Yue, time to clock out.” He reminded her. Qi Yue glanced at the wall clock.

Evening again so soon… “Alright, see you tomorrow,” Qi Yue smiled, setting the book down. She tidied up quickly, changed her clothes, and headed for the door.

Just as she stepped out, she saw Huang Ying approaching with another person. Seeing her, Huang Ying waved enthusiastically.

“Xiao Yue,” she called out. Qi Yue paused, waiting for her, noticing that Huang Ying was accompanied by an unfamiliar man.

She offered a polite smile and a nod as a greeting. The man returned a slight nod in acknowledgment.

“Nothing planned for tonight?” Huang Ying asked, gesturing toward the man beside her. “This is the new Chief Resident in Neurosurgery, Peng Jiahai.” Then she turned to the man.

“This is Dr. Qi’s daughter, Little Dr.

Qi.” Qi Yue extended her hand. Peng Jiahai shook it with a smile.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you,” he said warmly. “The great reputation for waking up comatose patients through sheer familial affection?” Qi Yue quipped.

Peng Jiahai couldn’t suppress a smile from spreading across his face. This woman certainly had a witty way of speaking.

“Xiao Yue, want to join us for dinner?” Huang Ying pressed cheerfully. “The department is hosting a welcome dinner for Dr.

Peng. Let’s go sing afterward; your father isn’t coming, so you should represent the family.” Qi Yue smiled, about to reply, when voices sounded from behind her.

“Dr. Qi, Dr.

Qi.” The three turned to see a middle-aged woman hurrying toward them. Qi Yue recognized her immediately as the daughter of the patient from the afternoon who had refused the scans.

“Dr. Qi, I—I’m so sorry about this…” she said, looking genuinely ashamed.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Come in and talk,” Qi Yue said quickly, glancing at Huang Ying and Peng Jiahai.

“I truly apologize; perhaps next time.” The middle-aged woman hesitated. “It’s fine, it’s fine.

Dr. Qi, I just wanted to give you the money; I won’t keep you from leaving work…” she insisted.

Qi Yue had already gently taken her arm and ushered her into the office. Huang Ying offered Peng Jiahai an awkward smile.

“That’s just her; a total workaholic,” she explained. “It’s good when young people are dedicated to their work,” Peng Jiahai commented smoothly.

“Indeed, indeed,” Huang Ying agreed, nodding eagerly. Hearing the other two walk away from the doorway, Qi Yue let out a small sigh of relief.

“Dr. Qi, this is for the consultation fees…” the middle-aged woman said, producing the money.

“What were the results of the examination?” Qi Yue asked gently. The woman’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Meningioma, with metastasis to the liver,” she whispered. This result was somewhat surprising even to Qi Yue; she had merely suspected the patient’s condition was more complicated than simple pancreatitis, and that proceeding with a cholecystectomy would have been inappropriate.

Given this finding, then, there was no point in further treatment. “Birth, aging, sickness, and death are inevitable; you must try to be philosophical about it.

Your mother must be seventy this year, right?” she inquired. The middle-aged woman wiped her tears.

“Seventy-two,” she replied. “My mother has had such a hard life…” Qi Yue rose and poured her a glass of water.

The woman made no move to leave. After the hustle and bustle of the afternoon—running around for payments, consultations, and room visits—she was genuinely thirsty and exhausted, especially after receiving so many cold looks.

Seeing Qi Yue’s kindness now, she let go of her unfamiliarity and restraint, took the water, and drank it down in one gulp, beginning to pour out the misfortunes of her family. It wasn't until the lights in the outpatient building were nearly all extinguished that the middle-aged woman suddenly came back to herself.

“Oh my goodness, look at me… I’ve been rambling,” she said, standing up quickly, embarrassed. “I’ve kept Dr.

Qi from finishing work.” “It hasn’t delayed me. I am a doctor, and caring for the sick is what I do,” Qi Yue said with a gentle smile.

“Listening to you talk is also a form of treatment for you.” The woman looked surprised, and then slightly frightened. “Do—do I also have an illness?” she asked anxiously.

“A malady of the heart,” Qi Yue stated calmly. The middle-aged woman looked puzzled.

“With your mother in this state, and your brothers not helping, such a heavy burden placed on you—your psychological pressure must be enormous,” Qi Yue explained, pouring her another glass of water. “You are grieving over the diagnosis, yet you can’t show it in front of your mother.

It must feel suffocating.” The woman’s tears flowed again. “Dr.

Qi, my heart aches,” she sobbed. “I know,” Qi Yue nodded.

“It helps to let it out and cry. Things are as they are; you must learn to accept them.” She passed her the box of tissues from the desk.

After crying for a while, the middle-aged woman’s spirits lifted considerably. “Thank you, Dr.

Qi. My attitude this afternoon was terrible, yet you treat me like this…” she choked out.

What is a great physician? When a great physician treats illness, they must first calm the spirit and fix the will, free from desire or expectation, beginning with a heart of profound compassion and mercy, vowing to universally relieve the suffering of all living things.

If someone comes seeking aid for an ailment, one must not inquire about their noble or lowly status, rich or poor, young or old, beautiful or ugly, friend or foe, civilized or barbarian, foolish or wise; they must all be treated equally, as if they were the dearest kin. Furthermore, one must not look ahead or behind, worrying about one’s own safety or fortune, guarding one’s own life.

Seeing another’s agony as one’s own, one must feel deep sorrow. One must not shy away from danger, nor from the cold or heat of day or night, from hunger, thirst, or fatigue, rushing to the rescue with a singular focus, without concern for pretense or appearance.

Only then can one be called a great physician for the people; otherwise, one is a great thief of living souls. These resounding oaths echoed in her mind.

Qi Yue couldn’t help but close her eyes. “Friend or foe, civilized or barbarian, foolish or wise, all treated equally, as if they were the dearest kin…” she murmured.

“Dr. Qi, you really should go home now; it’s so late, and you haven’t eaten yet,” the middle-aged woman said, wiping her tears again.

“I truly met a saint today. If I hadn’t agreed to the checkup, we might have saved a few hundred now, but if they’d operated, the money spent would have been many times that, and it would have been pointless suffering for my mother… Now, at least…” She thanked Qi Yue profusely once more and left.

The office returned to silence. Qi Yue surveyed the surroundings.

She was alone again… She picked up her bag, closed the door, and walked out slowly. The sound of her heels echoed down the corridor, triggering the motion-sensor lights to flash on and then off again.

The winter night market was still bustling. Walking through the noise toward home, Qi Yue habitually kicked off her shoes and leaned against the door, gazing into the brightly lit apartment interior.

It was a neat, two-bedroom apartment spanning a hundred square meters, decorated with simple elegance—necessary, in her words, to provide enough space for her to breathe. But at this moment, the space seemed too vast.

Leaning against the door for a quiet moment, she stepped inside, tossing her bag onto the sofa. A rumble from her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten.

Opening the refrigerator, it was packed full. Qi Yue surveyed the contents but ultimately retrieved only a single can of beer, and from the kitchen, a cup of instant noodles.

After showering and toweling her hair dry, she sat down in front of the coffee table, opened the beer, and turned on the television. “Alright, let’s eat,” she said, picking up her fork.

Applause sounded from the TV, immediately followed by music. “…If I hadn’t met you… I wonder where I’d be now…” The music abruptly cut out.

Qi Yue gripped the remote and took a deep breath. “Eating this so late just adds to the weight,” she commented, feigning lightness, dropping both the fork and the remote onto the table, and standing up.

“Time for bed.” The lights in the room clicked off, plunging everything into darkness. There will be an extra update this afternoon; thank you all.

RS