Chen Qianqian: "Got Yourself a Girlfriend and Forgotten Your Little Sister? Jerk! Ptooey!"

The next morning, in the intensive care ward.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled light and shadows across the spotless white sheets.

Director Wang, the lead surgeon, began his rounds with two interns, just as he always did.

When he reached Song Guoan's bedside, he picked up the chart out of habit. His eyes swept over the string of vital signs printed out in real time by the monitor, and he froze.

Blood pressure: 120/80, rock steady.

Heart rate: 75 beats per minute, strong and steady.

Blood oxygen saturation: 99 percent!

"This... this is impossible!"

Director Wang's voice cracked. He tossed the chart aside and practically lunged at the monitor, staring fixedly at the flawless waveforms on its screen.

One of the interns, Zhang, quietly reminded him, "Director, there's nothing wrong with the equipment. It was calibrated just yesterday..."

Director Wang didn't hear a word.

It was only the third fucking day after surgery!

These readings were better than his own, and he was a healthy man who exercised every day!

This recovery wasn't merely a miracle. It was an act of God!

Unable to believe it, Director Wang put on his stethoscope and personally gave Song Guoan a thorough examination.

With the cold stethoscope pressed against Song Guoan's chest, the steady, powerful thump of his heartbeat traveled clearly through the tubing to Director Wang's ears.

Every beat struck like a sledgehammer against his already crumbling understanding of medicine.

"Cough... cough..."

Song Guoan gave a few soft coughs on the bed and slowly opened his eyes.

Not only was he fully conscious, he could even speak, albeit weakly.

"D-Director Wang... thank you..."

Looking at the man he had pronounced clinically dead two days earlier, Director Wang felt the faith in science he had built over thirty