Mingtuqi's Transmigration

“Ming-ge, Bed 3's blood pressure is dropping again. Systolic 75, diastolic 40!” The young nurse Zhang at the nurses' station sounded panicked. She hadn't even had time to change the IV set in her hands.

Ming Tuqi didn't look back. He was already on the move, speaking as calmly as if reciting a menu: “Push 1 mg of epinephrine IV. Start dopamine at 10 micrograms per kilogram per minute. Prepare a central line kit. I'll place it.”