Before Fang Zhixing fell asleep, he had been working nonstop at the hospital for more than seventy-two hours. He was one of the best surgeons around.
A fire engulfing an entire apartment building brought in a flood of burn patients. One careless moment could cost someone their life. In the second before he passed out, Fang Zhixing thought: At this rate, I won't be far behind them.
When he opened his eyes again, yellow sand filled the sky and a stench filled the air.
Oh. A mass grave.
"..."
Are people really taking hospital disputes this far these days?
Some time later, Doctor Fang figured out his situation.
He had transmigrated, with no memories of the body's original owner and no idea who he was or what dynasty this was. He was as clueless as the village idiot, with an innocence that practically shone through.
Thanks for asking. I'm on a border battlefield, I've just escaped death, and a bunch of fearsome men with knives pointed at me and murder in their eyes think I'm a walking fifty-thousand, damn it, a walking head.
Because we can't speak the same language. Yes, that's the simple, practical reason.
Ha, this is way outside my area of expertise!
Fang Zhixing immediately dropped to his knees and managed to save his life with a few emergency wound-care "remedies."
Daily life after transmigrating: Do good deeds (build up good karma), wash my hands, burn incense (coal will do), chant a spell. What will I draw today?
His golden finger gives him one draw a day. The prize pool covers everything from the dormitory to the cafeteria to the operating room, in a straight line. Whatever's there is fair game.
Blue-black retractable pens, surgical notes, pain pumps, instant noodles, glucose, antibiotics...
As long as I live one more day, a new surprise awaits.
As long as I live long enough, I can recreate the wonderful convenience of modern life.
There's a reason to keep going every day.
Before transmigrating: The military hospital's untouchable surgical legend, a senior colonel with severe OCD. His thick prescription glasses were practically welded to his face, and even the most hardened workaholic would recoil from his overworked aura. His specialty: giving everyone the same lethal glare.
After transmigrating: At first, he struggles to survive. Later, people think a celestial immortal has descended from heaven. And after that... he routinely grabs their major general by the ear and yells at him, eventually becoming the border army's unofficial leader.
"Forever young, forever sharp-tongued."
"Look at that young major general, famous for his military achievements. How come there's no light in his eyes anymore?"
"Everyone's finding out what 'all kinds of variety' means: five days to prepare for eight different exams."
"Fang Zhixing, the god who controls the death rate on ancient battlefields."
Reader's guide:
* Shou protagonist, Fang Zhixing x Lu Zhan
* Reference: Field Surgery (I'll add more books as I read them while preparing this new story.)
* Note from 2024/8/13
Theme: Doctors aren't responsible for customer service. They're responsible for saving lives.
