The Surgeon's Studio

At Hongqiao International Airport in the Sorcery Capital, a huge banner dominated the arrival hall.

There was a sentence written in semi-cursive script on it: “Welcome to the exchange visit, Professor Rudolf Wagner from Heidelberg University”

Heidelberg University was the oldest university and one of the top institutions in Germany.

Professor Rudolf Wagner had spearheaded interventional technology in the Medical Faculty of Heidelberg University. His work was primarily focused on researching new methods in clinical surgery. He was one of the members of the German Universities Excellence Initiative.

It had taken Biosensors International great effort to invite Professor Rudolf Wagner over to participate in prostatic artery embolization research.

Money was not the only factor involved.

Had Professor Rudolf Wagner not also participated in the cardiovascular stent grafting project, they would never have been able to make this exchange visit happen, not even with a few million US dollars.

One of the directors of a Class Three Grade A hospital from Sorcery Capital and the regional CEO for East Asia of Biosensors International were waiting at the airport alongside their subordinates.

In the crowd, they spotted a tall German man walking out of the arrival hall within a group of Chinese people. He was around fifty years old and sported shoulder-length blonde hair, bearing an artistic mien which gave off no impression of being a medical professor.

“Nice to meet you, Professor Rudolf Wagner.” The hospital director and regional CEO approached him right away and offered handshakes.

After exchanging simple greetings, they all left the arrival hall together.

Professor Wagner was straightforward. He asked while they were walking, “Are the surgical instruments ready?”

“We’ve put the new production line into commission. No matter what diameter of guide wire you need, we can provide them,” the regional CEO of Biosensors International answered with a smile.

“That’s great news. I’ll only be here for three days before I have to return to Berlin to attend the Haringnar Award Ceremony.” The professor was not a jovial person. He said everything that came to mind, the bluntness of his personality at odds with his elegant appearance.

“I know you have a packed schedule, but don’t you think this surgery will take your name to a whole new level in the medical field? This is the damned prostate we’re talking about! It’s been an ongoing battle for years, the ultimate nightmare of older men, but one we have had to solve it with crude surgical methods,” the regional CEO of Biosensors International said to Professor Wagner in fluent German.

On the other hand, the Class Three Grade A hospital director stared at them both blankly while his interpreter translated the entire exchange.

There was no room for him to speak.

“This is an existing issue,” Professor Wagner agreed.

“I think you’ll need this extra credit for the Haringnar Award Ceremony. I remember one of the judges, Mr. Mehar, being already eighty-three years old. He’ll definitely be interested in your latest research.”

The regional CEO was professionally ruthless. With a few words, he had successfully convinced Professor Rudolf Wagner to willingly put in more effort into this research.

“I’ve researched the surgical method before. The right tools and equipment will make it easier by an order of magnitude. Damn it! Even if everything is in order, it still remains the most grueling procedure in all of interventional surgery without equal!” Although the fame and recognition that would come with success was tempting, Professor Rudolf Wagner knew just how challenging prostate artery embolization was.

Were it any easier, the surgical technique would have been established by now.

“Exactly. Because of that, it’ll add more value to your research. The old Swedish men who judge Nobel Prize winners would show great interest in your research. My god, I hope they don’t die of heart attacks when they hear about the success of your research.”

Professor Wagner did not pay much attention to the man’s joke. He knew that a prostate surgery would not win him a Nobel Prize in Medicine. Nevertheless, all the influential judges were very old and would no doubt be facing some problems with that accursed organ.

This was a very promising surgery. It would be perfect were it any less difficult.

A black MPV was already waiting for them when they stepped out of the airport.

Professor Rudolf Wagner entered the car. Only then was the hospital director able to speak to him.

They had finished laying down all the groundwork, and its executor, Professor Rudolf Wagner, had finally arrived. All that was left to do was perform the surgery.

It would be slightly challenging, but not something that Professor Wagner could not overcome.

…

Zheng Ren was still oblivious to the upcoming event. He sat in his private ward and chatted with Xie Yiren by phone.

He had never done that in Sea City.

Throughout his entire life, Chief Zheng had rarely spoken to other people. After all, he had had to fight for survival, unlike Su Yun, who had his cell phone rooted to his hand.

Sea City General Hospital was rather uneventful. The emergency department had not been incapacitated after Zheng Ren’s departure.

The only issue was that Old Chief Physician Pan was not equipped to perform laparoscopies. Most of the patients requiring laparoscopy were transferred to the inpatient department.

The operating theater was so empty that Xie Yiren had nothing to do. She was tempted to visit Imperial Capital to see if Zheng Ren had any surgeries to perform.

Zheng Ren remained unaware of how much time flew by as they chatted until Feng Xuhui entered the private ward with food.

He bade farewell to Xie Yiren before greeting the man, “Thanks for your trouble, Manager Feng.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Feng Xuhui replied with a huge grin.

This was his first time entering a private ward of a Class Three Grade A Hospital in Imperial Capital. Even though the interior was not very luxurious—one might even say it looked a little old-fashioned—it was a status symbol to be able to get a private ward.

Feng Xuhui pulled the mobile overbed table carefully towards them. Zheng Ren was stunned for a moment before laughing. “There’s no need for that.”

“He’s not handicapped, there’s no need to dine from the bed,” Su Yun added.

Feng Xuhui began to visibly panic. It had not been Zheng Ren’s intention to embarrass Feng Xuhui on purpose. After all, he owed Feng Xuhui a favor for Zheng Yunxia’s surgery.

He got off the bed and helped Feng Xuhui plate the dishes onto the coffee table. Su Yun remained seated on the sofa without offering a hand, like a head honcho waiting to be served.

There was a knock on the door as they were about to start eating.

“Come in,” Zheng Ren said.

The door was unlocked. Their visitor twisted the handle and walked in.

It was Chief Bao from the cardiothoracic department, with Zhao Yunlong following closely behind him. There was also another person with them… he looked rather familiar, but Zheng Ren could not recall who he was.

Su Yun had a curious expression and stood immediately. Instead of approaching them, he retreated half a step behind Zheng Ren and whispered, “That is Chief Kong from the interventional radiology department.”