Chapter Five: Craniotomy

On the bed in Room 302, the patient was lying with sixteen silver needles inserted into his body. Around the needles, dark blood had oozed out. At this moment, Lu Hao’s father slowly opened his eyes. Though his expression was still filled with pain, he was conscious—and consciousness meant that his condition had improved dramatically.

“What’s going on here?” Director Zhao quickly strode to Lu Hao’s side, examining his father closely. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his face full of disbelief. He remembered Lu Hao’s father’s diagnosis: intracranial hemorrhage and multiple internal organ bleeds from a fall. Such conditions almost always required a craniotomy to remove the brain hematoma—a costly surgery with an even more exorbitant recovery. Given the family’s financial situation, they could never afford it. Letting the blood clot remain in the brain was a death sentence.

Zhao Qiang shoved Lu Hao aside and barked, “What did you do to the patient?” Lu Hao glared at him. “He’s my father. I’m saving him.” Zhao Qiang became even angrier, shouting, “This patient is in critical condition! Even the slightest movement could be fatal. Do you have a medical license? Nonsense! You’re not one of our doctors. What are you doing? If something happens to the patient, who’s going to take responsibility?” To Zhao, Lu Hao was just another desperate son, experimenting with folk remedies he’d read about, using his father as a test subject.

Lu Hao shook his head. “Forget it. There’s no point explaining to you. We’re discharging today. We’re not continuing treatment.” Zhao Qiang’s face darkened. “You think you can just stop treatment on a whim? What do you take your father’s life for?” To him, critical patients were a gold mine: endless expensive medications, treatments, and sky-high equipment fees—regardless of whether the patient survived, the money would flow in.

“Utter nonsense.” Zhao Qiang, fuming, was about to call for security to remove Lu Hao.

At that moment, Chen Fan stepped up with a sycophantic smile and explained, “Director, this is my old classmate, the patient’s son. His girlfriend just left him for another man. He’s probably not in the right state of mind. I’ll take him away right now.” With that, Chen Fan moved to evict Lu Hao.

Lu Hao shoved him aside, frowning. “I said I’m done with treatment. Didn’t you hear me? I can treat my father myself.” Just moments ago, Lu Hao had used the inner force of the ‘Eighteen Revolutions with Nine Needles’ to forcibly drive the blood clot from his father’s brain. His miraculous needlework had also repaired his father’s internal injuries. His father could almost get out of bed already—he just needed to convalesce and avoid reopening the wounds.

Chen Fan looked Lu Hao up and down and sneered, “Lu Hao, let’s be honest, you’re broke and stubborn. Refusing treatment—are you just going to watch your father die? You really think graduating from medical school makes you omnipotent?”

Just then, a young nurse in short heels hurried in, looking anxious. “Director Zhao, Madam Song is still waiting outside. She’s getting angry from waiting so long.” The nurse had a short bob, freckles, and was rather short. She was Wu Rui, best friend of Lu Hao’s fiancée, Xu Juan. Wu Rui had spoken ill of Lu Hao countless times behind his back. She said his poverty would drag him down no matter what degree he earned. She claimed Xu Juan would only end up slaving away for Lu Hao’s parents if she married him, taking care of patients and growing old before her time. In the end, she persuaded Xu Juan to leave Lu Hao for the wealthy Zhou Wenguo.

Hearing the nurse, Zhao Qiang’s expression changed again as he adjusted his glasses. Madam Song was no ordinary person—the heiress to Song Group, one of the country’s major conglomerates with businesses in real estate, entertainment, retail, jewelry, and more. She was also a major client for the hospital’s medical supplies—not someone he could afford to offend.

“Chen Fan, come with me,” Director Zhao said, turning to leave. Before he went, he shot Lu Hao a glare. Chen Fan, meanwhile, let his gaze linger greedily on Zhao Cuihua, his intent barely veiled. “Let me know when your old man dies—I’ll be there for the funeral,” Chen Fan said, patting Lu Hao on the shoulder, unable to resist another jab.

He leaned in and muttered, “Let me have a go with your woman, and maybe I’ll think about helping pay for your father’s treatment.” Lu Hao’s face hardened, and he was sorely tempted to slap him right then and there. This was the same man who used to call him ‘Brother Lu’ with a smile—his true nature had long been hidden. But Lu Hao knew that in someone else’s hospital, and in front of the director, striking out would only brand him a criminal. He swallowed his anger.

Nurse Wu Rui rolled her eyes at Lu Hao’s apparent cowardice. Even when his own woman was harassed, he didn’t dare stand up for her. She thought to herself, I was right to tell Xu Juan to leave this loser.

Watching Chen Fan strut away, Lu Hao remembered a technique from the Azure Dragon legacy: “A Needle Delivered Over a Thousand Miles.” This trick allowed him to use a flying needle to affect an object across a distance—perfect for dealing with Chen Fan.

Without hesitation, Lu Hao called out, “Chen Fan, didn’t you once brag to me that you took the opportunity to grope female patients during examinations? Was that true?” At that, Chen Fan spun around, cursing, “You bastard! How dare you slander me?” Right at that moment, Lu Hao flicked a silver needle at Chen Fan’s ankle. Chen Fan yelped in pain, his foot instinctively recoiling, and he slipped as if on a banana peel, crashing to the floor.

“Ow!” Chen Fan cried out in agony, his mouth striking the edge of a nearby medical cart. Two of his front teeth were knocked out, blood filling his mouth. Clutching his mouth, he forced himself to stand, determined not to humiliate himself in front of Director Zhao.

“Dr. Chen, are you alright?” Wu Rui asked, rushing to his side with concern.