Chapter 53: Diagnostic AI, Making Its Dazzling Debut

Luo Hao fastened his seatbelt, turned on the night lights, and revved the engine.

"Your piece-of-junk car still has quite a loud engine. Must be burning oil, huh?" Chen Yong couldn't help mocking.

"My car is just fine." Luo Hao started the engine, shifted gears, and steadily drove at sixty miles per hour into the night of Donglian City.

"What were you just saying about my master?"

"I don't know, and I haven't heard anyone else say it either, I'm just guessing." Luo Hao said casually, focusing on his driving. "When your master first arrived, he was full of youthful vigor and offended Director Wen Youren."

"Later on, he was given the cold shoulder for a few years. Of course, it wasn't the kind of offense where you grab Director Wen's child and jump down a well. Wen Youren is extremely petty; he might hold a grudge over the tiniest little thing."

"Your master eventually figured it out too. If the head director won't let him perform surgeries, he has no opportunity to grow. What good is watching all you want, you know?"

"Didn't you just mention giving gifts?" Chen Yong countered.

"That falls under the category of not giving. Thinking you can improve relationships through flattery—let me tell you, it's completely useless."

Chen Yong looked down, guided by the streetlights. This was listed as the second item by his master, and it matched what Luo Hao was saying almost word for word.

!!!

What the hell!

Chen Yong was baffled. How could Luo Hao sound as if he had witnessed it with his own eyes? And how could he know his master's mental journey so well?

"I'd wager that when your master tried to give a gift, Director Wen most likely refused it righteously, accompanied by a sanctimonious lecture."

"Because material expressions of gratitude can build connections and close distances, but they cannot reverse a dynamic. If you really want to turn things around... you have to look at who is involved."

"My master is very capable!"

"I think so too, but his luck wasn't very great before—he ran into Wen Youren. Besides, he started earning money a few months too early. If he had stayed until now, perhaps a good opportunity would have come his way."

"Wen Youren is only here on support; he hasn't retired yet."

Seeing the confident look on Luo Hao's face, Chen Yong felt even more unconvinced. Thinking Luo Hao was putting on too much of an act, he couldn't help but retort.

"The department is going to select a new deputy director to preside over operations, and your master is actually an excellent candidate. If he were still in the department, I think I would push for it. On this matter, the opinions of the Medical Administration Office don't matter, but Director Lin's and my opinions matter a great deal."

Chen Yong spotted a logical flaw and was just about to retort, but the words died in his throat as he was about to speak.

Come to think of it, if Luo Hao were to say something to President Li or Secretary Sun right now—especially regarding personnel arrangements after Wen Youren's departure—those two would definitely give him some face.

After all, Elder Chai had traveled thousands of miles to endorse Luo Hao. If one were to leverage this situation and guide it along, it didn't seem all that difficult.

And that wasn't all.

Elder Chai held a deep affection for Luo Hao.

Among those who went to pick him up at the airport were city leaders, but not a single leader from the Mining General Hospital. Even a blockhead like Chen Yong, who didn't invest energy in human relations and social etiquette, understood the implication behind that.

Chen Yong carefully looked at the clever strategy left behind by his master, which read: *If there are deep-seated conflicts and hard barriers, do not give gifts.*

Luo Hao seemed to be right.

"However, I probably wouldn't help. So, supposing your master were still here, if they were to promote a deputy director to preside over clinical work this time, he wouldn't stand a chance."

"How so?"

Chen Yong seemed to understand something.

"There aren't many people with the skill level to preside over clinical work and perform emergency surgeries, but there aren't too few either. Counting your master, there are at least two."

"Your master comes from a grassroots background, and his university was a bit mediocre; he simply didn't have the connections."

"For instance, what if his competitor is a relative of a high-ranking leader, or the offspring of some heavyweight in the circle..."

At this, Luo Hao chuckled softly.

"You academic aristocrats are none of you any good," Chen Yong scorned.

"I got into Peking Union Medical College's eight-year clinical medicine program entirely through my own ability, okay!"

That was indeed the truth.

Thinking of the college entrance examination and his senior year of high school, Chen Yong felt a bit dazed.

He wished time could flow backward, returning to the era when he was still struggling in high school. If he could, he would definitely tie his hair to the beam and pierce his thigh with an awl, and he would surely get into Peking Union too, so he wouldn't let Luo Hao be this arrogant!

Perhaps the college entrance examination was the only chance in many people's lives to change their destiny.

Unfortunately, he had missed it.

"In a situation like that, your master would be flying blind. Even if he performs surgeries better than others, is more meticulous than others, and treats patients like his own family, it still wouldn't do a damn thing."

"Because the hierarchy of relational studies is always: newly forged connections cannot defeat existing ones; existing ones cannot defeat direct superiors; direct superiors cannot defeat absolute power."

"Therefore, the economic base must still yield to the superstructure."

"Luo Hao, has anyone ever told you that you're slick?" Chen Yong suddenly asked.

"No, the elders all like me, saying I'm fresh and sunny," Luo Hao stated a fact.

Hearing this phrasing, Chen Yong didn't even know how to refute it.

Leaving aside how exhausting the journey was for the elder who flew in today, just the fact that Luo Hao seemed to anticipate his arrival—preparing the latest Geely fishing vehicle, phased-array radar, air cannons, professional winter fishing equipment...

Having money really allowed you to do whatever you pleased; Chen Yong attributed all of this entirely to wealth.

He lowered his head and looked at his master's clever stratagem, which read: *If there are hard connections blocking the path, do not give gifts.*

Luo Hao seemed to mean precisely this.

"Another point: your master lacks channels," Luo Hao continued. "Clutching Buddha's feet only at the last minute isn't entirely impossible, but it's best not to do it. Blocking someone at their doorstep or barging into their office to make a delivery—those are the actions of a blockhead."

"Then what would you do if you were in his shoes?" Chen Yong asked.

"My senior brother and I do 'flying knife' surgeries, and we once went to a hospital. After we finished the operation, the patient was sent to the ICU for three days of observation. I followed the patient inside to brief their doctors on a few things."

"Right at that moment, I saw the head of the ICU run out crying. I asked about it and was told that their department head had gone to the president's office to complain in tears."

"Ah?!" Chen Yong was most afraid of women crying. Subconsciously judging that the ICU head Luo Hao mentioned was female, his heart instantly softened.

"I chatted with the doctors on duty and roughly figured out the situation. This department head's original specialty wasn't critical care. Because she couldn't get promoted to department head in her original department, she took advantage of the newly established ICU to get transferred over and elevate her rank first."

"Her skill level is very mediocre, yet she creates endless trouble. The doctors, nurses, and head nurse under her all refuse to submit to her. But she has one special skill: whenever an issue arises, she runs to the president's office to cry."

"Isn't that obnoxious?" Chen Yong frowned.

"Obnoxious indeed, but hospital leaders enjoy the feeling of towering above others. I can't describe it in detail, but it's roughly that sort of feeling. So as long as she goes to cry, she always gets results."

"..." Chen Yong was speechless.

"Your master has too thin a skin; he would never do something like that. Let alone crying in front of the president's office, your master wouldn't even step up to report on work as the attending physician in charge."

Every single word Luo Hao spoke hit the nail on the head.

He sounded as if he paid attention to Jiang Wenming every single day and had been observing him for many years.

"Some things rely on intuition. Aside from knowing how to make girls happy, your intuition seems a bit lacking in every other aspect. One of the reasons your master made you jump through eighteen hoops to ask me is that he hopes you'll become a bit more tactful in the future."

"How do you talk? My emotional intelligence is very high, thank you very much." Chen Yong looked at Luo Hao with displeasure.

"Let's go home."

Amidst their casual banter, they had already arrived downstairs at Chen Yong's apartment building.

Luo Hao turned his head to look at Chen Yong. "First, get your surgical volume up. As doctors, being incompetent is our original sin. Once you have the skills, put some effort into the rest, and whatever you're supposed to have will naturally come."

"!!!"

Chen Yong clenched both fists, brimming with energy.

Watching this fellow bounce away, full of boundless energy with nowhere to vent, Luo Hao smiled faintly.

He hoped Chen Yong wouldn't let him down.

The medical team had a limited number of spots. Since Chen Yong was included, he'd better be able to complete the corresponding number of surgeries.

(1/3)

(2/3)

Otherwise, it would be a waste—a crime.

Sitting alone in the car, Luo Hao didn't rush off. Instead, he took out his phone to contact Director Gu.

Because he had to accompany Boss Chai, he hadn't even gotten a chance to see Director Gu, which made Luo Hao feel a bit apologetic.

Moreover, he needed to ask about the surgery status; otherwise, if he went to the ICU to check on the patient later, he wouldn't even know what to look for.

Director Gu had already boarded his plane and needed to turn off his phone. After a hurried chat, Luo Hao was relieved to learn that the surgery had been successful and the patient should be fine.

He let out a long breath.

A patient surviving was definitely a good thing, well worth his effort and the donation of 1,200 milliliters of blood.

In the upper right corner of his vision, a faint light flickered, which Luo Hao hadn't noticed until now.

Now that things had quieted down, Luo Hao took a look and found that the diagnostic auxiliary AI fragments had somehow been fully collected, and the system was prompting him to synthesize them.

Complete?!

Luo Hao was surprised.

Reviewing the logs, Luo Hao realized that the moment Director Gu completed the elephant trunk procedure, the system had rewarded a massive amount of experience points and diagnostic auxiliary AI fragments.

He had been busy accompanying Boss Chai fishing and eating skewers, so he hadn't noticed the system prompt.

Luo Hao was instantly overjoyed.

Good people are rewarded. At the time, the system hadn't prompted him about what benefits saving this patient would bring, but by combining blood donation with finding China's top surgeon to operate, he had inadvertently completed a hidden quest.

Furthermore, Director Gu didn't come alone; he brought an entire team.

This team represented China's top surgical standards in cardiothoracic surgery, as well as the highest standards of postoperative nursing and treatment.

Therefore, the system had also given a very high evaluation, to the point of allowing the synthesis of the auxiliary diagnostic AI.

It was a pleasant surprise, yet entirely within reason.

Luo Hao didn't hesitate and clicked to synthesize.

All the fragments he had painstakingly accumulated transformed into a white beam of light and dissipated into the void.

Luo Hao only felt a warm current flow through his limbs and bones, but he couldn't find where the diagnostic panel was located.

Peculiar as it was, Luo Hao didn't dwell on it. The system was generally reliable; it would probably provide prompts when he encountered patients.

The social obligations had come to an end, and Luo Hao felt somewhat fatigued, but instead of going home to rest, he returned to the hospital and headed straight for the ICU.

Upon entering the ICU, Luo Hao immediately saw a female doctor wearing a dark blue isolation gown and a small floral cap sitting in front of the central monitoring desk, staring intently at the screen with meticulous focus.

She was around thirty-five years old, looking sharp and capable.

"Sister Zou!" Luo Hao greeted her and walked over briskly.

Hearing the voice, the female doctor turned her head and smiled slightly. "Dr. Luo, what an honor for you to grace us with your presence. It's truly not easy to catch a glimpse of you these days."

Luo Hao chuckled twice.

"Director Gu left me behind to look after the patient for a couple of days." Sister Zou reached out to shake hands with Luo Hao. "How many years has it been since the two of us met?"

"Three years and five months," Luo Hao said with certainty. "Back then, the director and I went to a consultation, and the two of us crossed paths."

"It's rare that you're so thoughtful and remember it so clearly."

"Sister Zou's case presentation left a deep impression on me back then." Luo Hao recalled calmly, yet every single word made Sister Zou feel exceptionally comfortable.

Sister Zou's expression had originally been as stern and cold as ice and snow, but under Luo Hao's wave of nostalgia, it gradually melted.

"Sister Zou, how is the patient?"

"Doing fine," Sister Zou smiled. "Originally, I was scheduled to stay for three days, but looking at the current situation, I might even have an extra day to spare. You'll have to take me out to have some fun then."

"You got it. If it snows, I'll drive you to the Snow Town. If it doesn't snow, we'll go ride a sled on the frozen river."

"A sled?" Sister Zou asked.

Luo Hao immediately drew diagrams in the air to explain it to her.

His phone rang—it was Sister Zou's. She took out her phone and said apologetically, "A call from home. I'll go take it; Dr. Luo, please wait a moment."

"Take your time."

Luo Hao began browsing the electronic medical records.

The elite critical care personnel brought by Director Gu from 912 possessed extraordinary caliber. Although they were acting as visiting experts, every single entry was appropriately detailed and served as a standard textbook example of a Grade-A medical record.

What Luo Hao had said earlier was definitely not false; it was precisely because of his sincerity that he left a favorable impression.

Nobody was a fool, especially frontline clinical staff—they were sharp and astute, only carrying a bit more of a self-sacrificing personality.

Luo Hao first looked at the surgical records, then followed them chronologically.

Indeed, there were no problems. The patient was recovering extremely rapidly. It was estimated that spontaneous breathing could resume within 36 to 48 hours, and if the condition remained stable thereafter, the ventilator could be removed within 12 hours.

Once off the ventilator, the patient could be said to be halfway recovered, and the treatment was seeing the dawn of hope.

Sister Zou hadn't returned yet, so Luo Hao glanced at the medical records and then checked the patient's drainage volume.

The drainage fluid was pale red, and from the post-surgery period until now, it was less than 300 milliliters. The surgery was truly well performed.

Director Gu was indeed worthy of being ranked in the top three cardiothoracic surgeons nationwide.

Just as Luo Hao squatted down to check the drainage bottles, Sister Zou returned.

"Sister Zou, the surgery..."

Luo Hao stopped midway through his sentence.

Sister Zou's eyelids were red and swollen, as if she had just been crying.

Uh, what happened here?

The divorce rate among ICU doctors and nurses was exceptionally high because they simply didn't have the time to take care of their families.

This thought instantly flooded Luo Hao's mind.

"Sister Zou, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Sister Zou choked back tears. "The patient's condition is stable, the latest..."

She began to "report" the most recent lab results.

All the data was clear in her mind, recited directly without needing to process it through her brain. Yet as she spoke, tears began to stream down Sister Zou's face.

"Sister Zou, sit down, sit down." Luo Hao quickly pulled Sister Zou down to a seat. "Did something happen at home?"

Sister Zou wiped away her tears, paused for a full minute, and said softly, "My grandfather has terminal lung cancer."

!!!!

Luo Hao was stunned.

Judging by Sister Zou's reaction, this should have been a sudden emergency, not something she had psychological anticipation for.

If she had known in advance that a family member was terminally ill and could pass away at any moment, Director Gu wouldn't have brought her here to watch over the patient.

Terminal...

Luo Hao also knew that some cancers were already at an advanced stage upon discovery; it was fate, and there was no helping it.

"There wasn't the slightest sign, which doesn't make sense," Sister Zou said softly with reddened eyes.

She spoke as if chatting with Luo Hao, yet also as if talking to herself.

Luo Hao listened quietly.

At this point, saying anything was useless; being a good listener was enough.

"He's been coughing a bit lately, but it wasn't severe. Everyone has chronic bronchitis, especially when winter sets in."

(2/3)

(3/3)

"Today was a routine physical exam. I only came over here with Director Gu after I had everything arranged. Who would have thought it would turn out to be terminal cancer? We checked just half a year ago, and everything was fine."

Sister Zou was blaming herself, full of remorse and regret.

The confirmation of cancer, especially the determination of a treatment plan, was a relatively lengthy process.

Coupled with the fact that there had been zero signs or news beforehand, to suddenly be told it was terminal lung cancer—and perhaps not even the final diagnosis yet.

Luo Hao found it somewhat strange, but upon second thought, Sister Zou was a critical care physician at 912; her grandfather must have used 912's outpatient clinic for biannual checkups.

The imaging data...

"Sister Zou, may I take a look at the scans?" Luo Hao asked.

Although he was asking, his tone was firm, much like a senior physician asking a junior for a patient's imaging data.

Sister Zou was startled for a moment, then took out her phone, opened the cloud folder, and handed it to him.

The regular CT scan showed a huge space-occupying lesion at the right lung hilum, with scattered space-occupying lesions in both lungs.

But this was only the most cursory examination.

In just one day, almost all the relevant follow-up tests had been completed, including a bone scan and a bronchoscopy.

The bone scan indicated suspected multiple bone metastases in the sternum, ribs, and lumbar vertebrae, while the bronchoscopy clearly showed that new cauliflower-like tissue inside the trachea had already blocked two-thirds of the right lung hilum.

Looking at the scans, Luo Hao felt a chill in his hands.

Sister Zou's grandfather presented the classic imaging profile of advanced lung cancer complicated by systemic multi-organ metastasis, leaving virtually no room for doubt.

After reviewing them, just as Luo Hao was about to return the phone to Sister Zou, the diagnostic auxiliary AI system panel suddenly appeared.

[Preliminary Diagnosis: Pulmonary space-occupying lesion.]

Damn it!

Luo Hao cursed inwardly. Even the system was learning to shirk responsibility these days.

Was diagnosing lung cancer difficult?

Why be deliberately vague and call it a space-occupying lesion?

He had hoarded fragments for so long, only for it to synthesize a piece of garbage?

As Luo Hao was thinking this, he suddenly noticed a drop-down bar.

With a thought, he dragged the drop-down bar down, and the subsequent content appeared before his eyes.

[Differential Diagnosis: 1. Penicillium marneffei infection; 2. Adult immunodeficiency syndrome mediated by anti-interferon-gamma autoantibodies; 3...]

Luo Hao fell into deep thought.

This differential diagnosis entry was something that had never appeared before.

A space-occupying lesion wasn't cancer itself, but rather a collective term.

It was just that in clinical practice, cancer was the most common cause, so the moment he saw those five characters—space-occupying lesion—Luo Hao's first thought had been cancer.

Meanwhile, the diagnosis of Penicillium marneffei was rather interesting.

This type of bacterium is primarily distributed in countries such as Myanmar, Cambodia, southern China, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam.

It is an intracellular parasite that mainly attacks the mononuclear-phagocytic system. When immunity is low, it invades the body, multiplying in the lungs, liver, intestinal lymphoid tissue, lymph nodes, and spleen, causing fatal systemic infections.

Clinical manifestations include coughing, fever, chest pain, accompanied by swollen lymph nodes, liver, and spleen, among others.

Its primary host is the bamboo rat.

Generally speaking, people who have eaten bamboo rat have a high probability of contracting this disease.

"Sister Zou, does your grandfather eat bamboo rat?" Luo Hao asked.

Sister Zou was startled. Forgetting to wipe away her tears, two trails streamed down the corners of her eyes.

"Bamboo rat? You suspect it's a Penicillium marneffei infection?!"

Hesitating for a moment, Sister Zou suddenly brightened up, a hint of joy leaking into her tone.

She was a critical care physician; medical specialties were worlds apart, so it was normal that she hadn't thought of Penicillium marneffei. Luo Hao didn't find it strange.

If not for the system prompt, he wouldn't have thought of it either.

"Has the old gentleman eaten bamboo rat?"

"He has. He's a southerner, used to eating it frequently when he was young, and occasionally eats it now." Sister Zou immediately snatched back her phone and began making a phone call.

Luo Hao stared deeply at the diagnostic auxiliary AI within the system panel; this thing actually seemed somewhat useful.

Sister Zou made calls for a long time, returning with an uncertain expression.

"Sister Zou, how is it?"

"The associate head of the respiratory department performed the bronchoscopy. He said that under the scope, it doesn't look like a malignant tumor, and the biopsy specimen has been sent to the pathology department."

"The pathology department has already prepared the specimen; if we want to see it, we'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Dr. Luo, do you think it's a Penicillium marneffei infection?"

"The probability is high," Luo Hao said earnestly. "At the very least, we shouldn't immediately assume it's terminal lung cancer. Sister Zou, your emotional fluctuations are too severe. Go get some rest; I'll help you watch over things tonight."

That sounded a bit peculiar.

The patient belonged to the Mining General Hospital, and Sister Zou was merely helping out. How did it become him helping *her* watch? Luo Hao was just about to correct himself when Sister Zou smiled.

"No need, I've pulled myself together." Sister Zou said, "When I suddenly found out something was wrong with my grandfather, my mind went completely blank. Just now, I retraced the medical history and realized the probability of terminal lung cancer actually isn't that high."

Sister Zou began ticking off her points on her fingers, presenting her arguments just as she would during a hospital-wide grand rounds.

Starting from the relatively slow progression of cancer in the elderly, she went all the way to bamboo rats. The more she spoke, the more confident she became, her voice gradually growing firm.

After a little over ten minutes, Sister Zou's emotions completely stabilized.

"Thanks, Dr. Luo." After finishing her reasoning, Sister Zou looked somewhat revitalized. She expressed her gratitude, saying, "You should go rest. I heard you donated 1,200 milliliters of blood for the patient—rare blood types are truly not easy to come by."

"Leave this to me, you can rest assured," Sister Zou said with conviction. "Within three days, the patient will definitely be off the ventilator."

Seeing that Sister Zou was feeling better, Luo Hao chatted with her for a little longer before bidding farewell and leaving.

Without pathology results, talking was pointless.

He merely advised Sister Zou to have the old gentleman tested for fungal beta-D-glucan to determine whether it was caused by a fungal infection.

...

The moment Director Gu got off the plane, he learned about the matter.

The person had been left behind in Donglian City under his arrangement, and whatever happened with her family was something Director Gu had to take responsibility for.

That was basic.

If he were lazy and irresponsible, who would be willing to work with him in the future?

Even though the matter had nothing to do with him personally, Director Gu still had to handle it.

Director Gu went home to rest for the night, arrived at the hospital early the next morning, and ran straight to the pathology department to watch the head pathologist examine the specimen under the microscope.

"Director Gu, under the microscope, there's nothing major."

The head pathologist looked for a full ten minutes before finally raising his head, taking off his reading glasses, and stating with certainty.

"Nothing?" Director Gu was taken aback. "I looked at the scans myself—they show the classic presentation of advanced lung cancer with no surgical options."

(End of Chapter)