Thirty-five lines will do; if it doesn't work, then it doesn't. Let's see what this is all about.

Preliminary diagnosis was made: the sophomore student who had been “overlooked” was indeed the critically ill patient indicated by the system.

Although the initial diagnosis was established, Luo Hao’s task was far from complete.

Diagnosing cardiac tamponade was merely identifying a complication caused by the primary disease, not a definitive diagnosis.

Luo Hao focused intently, gazing deeply at the patient.

The diagnostic assistance AI had yet to be upgraded, but Luo Hao already fervently hoped the system would assign more tasks so he could quickly accumulate enough fragments to synthesize an upgrade.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be like a never-ending puzzle, always elusive as on some endless online shopping platform.

The medical staff in the emergency department of the First Medical University Hospital were highly skilled, clearly battle-hardened.

Within less than fifteen minutes, they had contacted the cardiology department and transferred the patient.

“Xiao Luo, we’re leaving. Not bad—being able to diagnose a patient you just happened to encounter is impressive,” Liu Haisen said with friendly admiration.

In his subconscious, Luo Hao had upgraded from just the nephew of Boss Lin to a doctor on par with himself, someone capable of discussing complex cases.

“Mm,” Luo Hao nodded.

As Liu Haisen continued to “show” Luo Hao around the hospital and they exited the emergency building, Luo suddenly stopped.

“Teacher Liu, about that patient...”

“Which one? The one with cardiac tamponade?”

“Yes, I want to go see. Are you available?”

Though phrased as a question, Luo’s tone was firm and unyielding.

Unconsciously, Luo Hao had adopted a bit of Wang Guohua’s domineering spirit, much like the mine owner.

Liu Haisen scratched his head.

What was there to see in a single patient? The patient was already admitted; naturally, the relevant department's doctors and professors were responsible for diagnosis and treatment.

Was Luo being a bit too meddlesome?

“Xiao Luo, your temper is fine when you’re young, but once you hit thirty, you might not keep up. Learn to relax and not empathize too much with patients…”

“Teacher Liu, that’s not what I mean.”

“Oh? Then what do you mean?” Liu Haisen’s interest was piqued.

“I’m afraid the First Medical University Hospital might misinterpret the case and delay diagnosis and treatment.”

Chen Yong almost covered his face with his hand nearby.

That awkward wave swept over him like a tidal wave; in an instant, Chen Yong could have carved out a three-bedroom apartment on the floor from the embarrassment.

Luo Hao—

He—

Would actually worry that the First Medical University Hospital might misdiagnose the patient?

Who did he think he was?

Liu Haisen thought he had misheard, standing dumbfounded for a full three seconds, repeatedly contemplating Luo Hao’s words, finally looking at this “ignorant” young man with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“Xiao Luo, you’re... really overconfident,” Liu Haisen said gently, avoiding a scolding and instead describing it as confidence.

To Chen Yong, it wasn’t confidence—it bordered on arrogance and disrespect.

“Teacher Liu, could you take me to see the patient?” Luo Hao asked politely but firmly.

Liu Haisen hesitated briefly but agreed, “Alright, but let’s be clear—we can’t interfere with the treatment by cardiology.”

“Teacher Liu, some tests will need your urging. The sooner they come back, the better. I feel if the patient doesn’t get a diagnosis quickly, the situation could be dangerous.”

Liu Haisen truly wondered who had given Luo such boundless confidence.

Confidence was good, but Luo’s confidence was somewhat excessive.

Both professionally and personally, Liu Haisen chose to indulge Luo and took him and Chen Yong to the cardiology department.

Along the way, Chen Yong wanted to mention how awkward Luo’s recent behavior was but couldn’t find the right moment.

Upon arriving at cardiology, they sat in the doctors’ office; the attending physician was performing a pericardiocentesis and was temporarily unavailable.

Liu Haisen and Luo Hao chatted casually, waiting nearly half an hour before the attending returned.

After discussion, they learned the patient was admitted and had undergone an emergency pericardiocentesis in the catheterization lab, draining about 1,500 ml of serous fluid.

Pre-procedure emergency lab tests revealed lactic acidosis with lactate at 8.71 mmol/L, pH at 7.18, anion gap at 28 mmol/L, acute kidney injury with blood urea nitrogen at 25.1 mg/dl, creatinine at 1.94 mg/dl, and elevated transaminases, indicating systemic hypoperfusion.

“What do you suspect the patient has?” Liu Haisen asked.

The attending physician shook his head. “Director Liu, the patient still needs comprehensive tests. So far, only a few emergency labs are back, and we have no idea what caused the nausea, vomiting, bloody stools, pericardial effusion, and acute...”

He listed a dozen possible diagnoses consecutively.

Liu Haisen’s head was buzzing.

He immediately knew the patient’s condition was extremely complicated, and the chances of a definitive diagnosis now were very slim.

Most likely, a hospital-wide consultation on Monday would be needed to bring together experts from all relevant departments for further findings.

“Xiao Luo, the patient’s cardiac tamponade has been properly managed. Don’t worry. Let’s go—I’ll take you to try some of the city’s best food,” Liu Haisen suggested after inquiring about the patient’s condition.

To him, there was no reason to stay longer.

Yet Luo Hao remained silent and serious, the sunshine-like smile vanished.

This kid...

Liu Haisen sighed inwardly.

Luo Hao was still young, just like himself back then, believing every disease deserved an accurate diagnosis and timely treatment at the earliest moment.

Little did he realize human capabilities were limited.

The provincial capital’s medical resources were relatively advanced and abundant, but over the years Liu Haisen had seen countless patients with unclear diagnoses.

In most cases, doctors had exerted their utmost efforts, yet no definitive, accurate diagnosis was achieved.

This was youthful zeal.

But one had to be pragmatic. Luo Hao was only here on business and would soon return; with such a short time, even the lab results weren’t back yet, and Luo was already worrying so much.

Luo Hao, however, had no such internal struggle as Liu Haisen imagined.

Because the system interface in his upper right corner had just changed.

【Hidden Critical Patient in the Crowd】—Originally, the system only required diagnosing one patient and marked the condition as severe, urging haste.

Yet seconds ago, the task interface suddenly flashed; though silent, the flashing red was alarming.

Now, after the words “Emergency Critical Patient,” a parenthesis appeared indicating the patient had developed hepatic shock.

Just after pericardiocentesis, the patient developed hepatic shock?!

Luo Hao frowned deeply.

“Xiao Luo?” Liu Haisen, noticing Luo’s silence, patted him.

“Ah?” Luo snapped back to attention.

The system’s flashing red light signaled urgency. Without hesitation, Luo said, “May I borrow a white coat? I want to see the patient.”

Liu Haisen frowned deeply. “Xiao Luo, that’s unnecessary. This is the First Medical University Hospital—are you still worried more than your own mine hospital?”

His tone was sharp; Luo had already nearly exhausted Liu’s patience.

“Teacher Liu, senior brother, I suspect the patient’s condition is worsening,” Luo said.

The attending was surprised Luo called him “senior brother,” a term used among doctors with a mentorship relationship.

Though not dismissive, the attending was displeased with Luo’s implication.

Luo was questioning his management!

To the attending, Luo was implying he had injured the patient’s myocardium.

“The pericardiocentesis was done under ultrasound guidance. You don’t think I punctured the myocardium, do you?” the attending asked directly.

“I just want to take a look,” Luo said, clasping his hands and subtly moving them twice.

His earnest yet helpless demeanor moved everyone.

Even Luo didn’t notice that his “acting” skill intensified his emotional presence, inadvertently smoothing some obstacles.

“Go ahead and see,” Liu Haisen relented with a helpless sigh. “If there’s nothing wrong, we’ll leave soon. I’ll treat you to a meal. You’re only here a day—you can’t go hungry.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Luo clasped his hands, bowed slightly, and smiled gratefully.

The expression was ordinary, but with the added “acting” skill, it was deeply infectious, as if refusing his request would be a grave mistake.

The attending was also helpless but eventually handed Luo a white coat.

Changing clothes, Luo entered the ward.

Something was off about the patient!

Normally, without the system’s alert, Luo might have missed subtle changes.

But the system clearly stated “hepatic shock,” and Luo immediately noticed changes in the skin.

Yellow.

“How are you feeling?” the attending asked.

Meanwhile, Luo approached the patient and said in a low voice, “Close your eyes.”

The patient was startled but instinctively obeyed.

“Hm?” The attending came over just as Luo flipped up the patient’s eyelids.

“Jaundice?! Damn!” The attending was startled and cursed openly in front of the patient.

“Draw blood, run tests,” Luo ordered sternly.

Slightly yellow sclera indicated jaundice; a patient with cardiac tamponade suddenly developing jaundice was unexpected.

Liu Haisen, who had only been standing at the door, rushed over upon hearing the attending’s words.

He personally lifted the patient’s eyelids, a chill rising deep within his heart.

How could the patient suddenly become jaundiced?

Impossible!

The attending personally took the blood samples and dashed to the lab.

The attending delivering the samples himself meant the lab would prioritize emergency liver function tests—a time-saving but frustrating necessity.

“Xiao Luo, how did you know?” Liu Haisen asked blankly outside the ward.

“Teacher Liu, I guessed.”

“...” Liu Haisen glared fiercely at Luo.

That kid definitely wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Let’s wait for the lab results. They should come soon.”

Liu Haisen was full of questions but couldn’t voice them.

Chen Yong stood nearby equally puzzled.

Without lab support, physical examination alone couldn’t confirm or gauge the severity of hepatic shock.

Soon, the attending returned with a grave expression.

On the way, he had contacted the second-line specialist and rushed back without waiting for Liu Haisen’s question, saying, “Fulminant hepatic failure: AST > 7000 U/L, ALT 4141 U/L!”

Damn!

Liu Haisen had expected critical illness but never imagined lab values could deteriorate so rapidly.

“Junior brother, any thoughts?” the attending asked.

Could Luo offer a diagnosis? Liu Haisen looked at him.

Honestly, Liu didn’t believe it.

He knew the patient’s history—it was both simple and extremely complicated.

A week ago, the patient had drunk heavily and vomited, then a week later developed bloody stools, pericardial effusion, and fulminant hepatic failure.

Were these events connected?

At least Liu Haisen couldn’t make the connection.

“I’ll try.”

“Try?”

“Try?”

Liu Haisen and the attending echoed in disbelief.

Either it works or it doesn’t—what was this “try” nonsense?

Amid their astonished looks, Luo took out his phone, dialed a number, and began his “try.”

The call connected quickly; a kind elderly woman’s voice answered.

“Teacher Zhao, hello, this is Little Snail.”

“Little Snail, are you still in the capital or have you come to Lin’an?” Teacher Zhao asked.

“No, I’m in my hometown’s provincial capital. There’s an emergency critical patient here…”

Without much small talk, Luo briefly reported the history.

Like a full ward round, Luo clearly summarized the patient’s condition to the senior doctor.

Liu Haisen and the attending looked dumbfounded.

So “try” meant calling someone for help. But who exactly was this someone?

“Oh, I see.” The elderly woman pondered briefly. “Test antinuclear antibodies, anti-dsDNA, complement C3 and C4. Do pathological examination on the pericardial fluid; I suspect exudate.”

“Understood, Teacher Zhao. What do you suspect?”

“Systemic lupus erythematosus (SLE) is highly probable,” the woman replied without hesitation.

“...”

“...”

Liu Haisen, the attending, and Chen Yong were all thrown into confusion.

The patient’s history seemed incredibly complex and baffling to them, leaving everyone around the patient like headless flies, unable to find the crux.

Yet Luo merely made a phone call, succinctly reported the history, and the elderly doctor gave the diagnosis.

“Although only about 1.2% of SLE cases cause cardiac tamponade, considering fulminant hepatic failure and renal failure as complications, the diagnosis is justifiable.”

“Run those tests. If the results aren’t definitive, call me back.”

“Thank you, Teacher Zhao,” Luo said respectfully, bowing slightly as if the elder were right in front of him and could see his reverence.

“I’m hanging up now. When will you come to Lin’an? Remember to visit me. It’s been years; I miss you. Hurry up,” the elderly woman said, then hung up without further ado.

Liu Haisen and the attending looked like statues, dumbfounded and unsure what to do.

“Senior brother, please draw blood for ANA, anti-dsDNA, and complement C3 and C4 tests.”

“ANA results usually take 48–72 hours, but if expedited, they can be ready in 3 hours.”

“Thank you,” Luo said, bowing slightly.

“Don’t mention it,” the attending hurried off but paused at the door to ask, “Who’s the expert you consulted?”

Luo gave a name the attending didn’t recognize.

“An elder from the 1980s who led the provincial general rounds in Zhejiang,” Luo explained.

Uh...

Provincial general rounds?

Not only the young attending but even Liu Haisen had never heard of such a thing.

Medical rounds usually occur within departments; large-scale hospital-wide rounds are rare, limited to top-tier hospitals, and inter-hospital rounds are unheard of, let alone provincial-level rounds.

Provincial general rounds, in a province with such abundant medical resources...

Liu Haisen was nearly in tears.

He hadn’t heard of it but immediately trusted the brief words.

This elder’s voice was resolute and powerful, calm yet unquestionable.

What kind of divine being was this?

The attending, still dazed, went back to work.

Luo looked at Liu Haisen. “Teacher Liu, could you help expedite the ANA test? The patient might not last that long.”

“I’ll handle it,” Liu Haisen sighed and began making calls.

Although calling in favors on a weekend required considerable goodwill and prestige, Liu Haisen did it nonetheless.

First, because the patient’s condition was truly severe, Luo wasn’t exaggerating.

Second, Liu was curious if the diagnosis was correct.

Luo’s “try” had summoned a top-tier expert from the provincial general rounds, likely nearly a century old.

The elder listened to Luo’s report and immediately gave a diagnosis, showing unusual fondness for Luo and urging him to visit.

Luo seemed like the most favored grandson at her knee.

This kid had some real skill!

Three hours later,

Liu Haisen stared blankly at the computer screen.

Nearby, the second-line cardiology professor nervously dialed the phone, his hand trembling.

When in doubt, consult rheumatology.

The patient’s lab results were almost definitive for systemic lupus erythematosus.

“Director Liu,” the second-line professor said after the call, visibly relieved, “Thank you.”

“...” Liu Haisen was somewhat bewildered but accepted the gratitude.

He knew if not for Luo’s “try,” the patient’s diagnosis would have been delayed.

Not to say the patient couldn’t be saved, but every hour mattered.

With things finally on track, Liu glanced at Luo.

The task was complete; Luo was happily checking the system panel.

With a clear diagnosis, Luo didn’t believe the First Medical University Hospital couldn’t treat even systemic lupus erythematosus.

He wouldn’t interfere further; Luo always had a sense of propriety.

“Teacher Liu, shall we go see somewhere else?” Luo asked quietly.

After leaving cardiology, Liu stopped in the corridor, looking back at Luo with a deep gaze.

“Teacher Liu, any instructions?”

“Xiao Luo, so your ‘try’ means this?”

“Uh, what else could it mean?” Luo was somewhat taken aback.

“Teacher Zhao is a top rheumatology expert. When in doubt, you definitely consult rheumatology.”

“Are you close to her? Just casually calling her like that?” Liu asked.

“Not casually,” Luo smiled. “It’s a matter of life and death. Teacher Zhao wouldn’t mind. And as doctors, if we can’t understand a case, aren’t we supposed to report to senior doctors? Calling for help is a basic skill.”

“...”

Liu Haisen sank deeper into confusion.

“Calling for help” was straightforward and true.

But in Liu’s mind, it was limited to his own hospital; other provincial hospitals weren’t in his scope.

Yet Luo called the provincial general rounds’ Teacher Zhao.

Liu couldn’t describe the complex, conflicted feelings swirling inside him.

He had planned to use Luo’s visit to introduce the First Medical University Hospital and show him that the mine hospital was merely a small pond.

But now he remembered Luo was a doctoral graduate from the prestigious Peking Union Medical College, reportedly once flourishing there before returning to the mine hospital.

Now it seemed Luo’s success there was no rumor—and perhaps even understated.

Luo didn’t just thrive at Peking Union Medical College.

Time was late, even past lunchtime.

“Xiao Luo, are you in a hurry? No rush to leave, right?” Liu glanced at his phone.

“Teacher Liu, I need to pick up my car and get back to Donglian before dark.”

“Before dark?”

“Yes. If possible, I prefer not to take the night highway.”

Luo sounded regretful but then smiled, “No worries. You still have surgery at the mine hospital next weekend—I’ll treat you then.”

Liu Haisen felt a twinge of regret for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Before he could respond, his phone rang.

He answered; a hurried voice spoke briefly, then abruptly hung up before Liu could say anything.

Liu’s expression stiffened painfully, his muscles hardening like concrete.

“Teacher Liu, what now?”

“Don’t go yet. Let’s wait a moment,” Liu frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“The head of rheumatology insists on seeing you.”

Luo was unfazed; unfamiliar with the rheumatology chief, he found a quiet spot near the inpatient entrance and chatted casually with Liu.

During this, Luo received a call from Section Chief Duan—they intended to hitch a ride back to Donglian City with Luo.

The rheumatology chief had yet to arrive; before that, Duan and Zhou Tianci came to find Luo.

They hadn’t driven—likely parked outside and walked in—to avoid drawing attention with the coal boss’s flashy car.

“Xiao Luo, sorry to trouble you again,” Section Chief Duan waved from afar, his face warm and friendly.

“Chief Duan, no trouble at all,” Luo smiled. “Please wait a moment—I still have some matters here.”

“Oh, come on, it’s us bothering you,” Duan said with a mock stern face, “I told you to call me Brother Duan, why still call me Chief Duan?”

Zhou Tianci smiled awkwardly but stood nearby.

“Uncle! Uncle!”

An elderly doctor with a head of white hair ran out from the inpatient department, shouting.

He headed straight for Liu Haisen, who froze.

Uncle?

Who was the uncle?

Who was Director Shen calling?

...

[Note: An elderly director who graduated from Zhejiang Medical University and is about to retire mentioned in casual conversation that provincial general rounds existed back in the 1980s during his internship.]