I Can Hear the Heart's Voice of Traditional Chinese Medicine

"You guys still don’t know?" Hu Meiqiao looked at Cheng Gaowen in surprise.

Cheng Gaowen shrugged: "No one’s ever mentioned it to us, so how would we know? Besides, Lu is getting invited to perform ’flying knife’ surgeries more and more frequently; we can’t just bombard him with endless questions, being curious about everything.

Plus, you know well, Director, that Lu doesn’t talk much. If it were someone else, they’d probably want the whole world to know, but Lu is afraid of people finding out. If we don’t ask, he definitely won’t say.

If you don’t tell us, and he doesn’t say, how are we supposed to know?"

Hu Meiqiao thought about it and found she agreed, so she said, "The last time Lu saved someone, it was actually the one in charge of our medical system."

"Was it the person from the city health bureau?" Cheng Gaowen guessed.

"I guess it should be Chief Officer Ji." Before Cheng Gaowen could finish her sentence, Wang Youqing’s voice leisurely chimed in.

"Old Wang hits the nail on the head." Hu Meiqiao responded with a smile.

As Hu Meiqiao finished speaking, Cheng Gaowen and the others couldn’t help but gasp.

"Chief Officer Ji?"

Cheng Gaowen swallowed hard: "No wonder the Traditional Chinese Medicine Department can independently set up a Chinese Medicine Hospital. If that person gave the approval, the project would basically be all green lights. The only tricky part is selecting the clinic physicians; if our choices from the usual hospitals are of no use, capable ones probably won’t come. If they truly don’t want to, even that person can’t force them.

This requires mutual willingness."

"Exactly, this is giving me a headache too." Hu Meiqiao rubbed her forehead.

"Better to have none than substandard ones!"

Wang Youqing picked up the conversation: "Establishing a Chinese Medicine Hospital is great, but if it relies solely on Lu, it’s going to be tough to develop it into a major institution.

Moreover, if patients are hospitalized, Lu can’t be the only one on night duty every day. One or two days is fine, but over time, even an iron body couldn’t handle it, and it would wear him down physically."

"I understand that too, but abandoning the project to establish a Chinese Medicine Hospital, given how hard it’s been to get it started, is not an option."

"Giving up isn’t an option."

Hu Meiqiao turned to Lu Xuan: "Lu, do you have any good ideas about the clinic physicians?"

Everyone turned their gaze to Lu Xuan.

Lu Xuan pondered for a moment before lifting his head and saying, "How about rehiring some retired traditional Chinese medicine doctors?"

"Like?" Hu Meiqiao’s eyes lit up slightly.

"People like Old Huang and Old Zhang," Lu Xuan said.

"Old Huang and Old Zhang?"

Hu Meiqiao furrowed her brow: "Who are they?"

"Huang Beishan, Zhang Jingcai, and Ye Haishen. If we can arrange it this way, I could try to have them come and see patients for a morning. As for night shifts, I can stay at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital myself."

"Elder Huang, the nationally recognized master of Traditional Chinese Medicine?"

"Zhang Jingcai, the successor of Zhang’s Internal Medicine?"

"Elder Ye?"

"Those sitting in clinics at the United South Chinese Medicine Association?"

Hu Meiqiao was stunned. She originally thought the people Lu Xuan was talking about were around his age, maybe a bit older, but limited. She never expected Lu Xuan was planning to invite several big names from Yong City’s traditional Chinese medicine field.

The key point was, Lu Xuan referred to them so casually.

That kind of prestige isn’t something just anyone can have.

Thinking of this, Hu Meiqiao took a deep breath, her face lighting up with joy: "That’s fantastic. Hiring them back shouldn’t be a big issue; the authorities will surely agree. And if they come to see patients, we might really get a few skilled traditional Chinese medicine doctors to join us, resolving the biggest challenge in establishing the Chinese Medicine Hospital."

"As long as it’s possible." Lu Xuan also relaxed a bit.

As long as he could rehire, getting a few people to see patients was feasible for him.

Meanwhile, Hu Meiqiao sighed inwardly.

Ever since she pulled some strings to have Lu Xuan go sit in at the United South Chinese Medicine Association, this young man embarked on a broad highway, and his social relations transformed significantly.

While others were still striving to accumulate more clinical experience, Lu Xuan was already on brotherly terms with people like Huang Beishan.

This huge gap, not to mention people like Ji Xiuwen, even left Hu Meiqiao feeling a complex mix of emotions.

...

Time flew by.

By the end of September, the Chinese Medicine Hospital project was in full swing, with equipment continuously being brought in and bed capacity rapidly increasing.

It’s undeniable that sometimes the efficiency of government departments can be remarkably high. Especially in situations where they work in harmony, everything proceeds smoothly; the hospital’s construction transformed nearly every day, which even Lu Xuan, sitting in the clinic, noticed with a bit of excitement.

This excitement wasn’t because he was going to become the hospital’s director, but because once the Chinese Medicine Hospital was established, he could truly unleash his potential. Previously, when faced with some emergency patients, he might have had to consider whether they could be admitted, and whether taking medicine home would pose risks that might lead to severe complications or even death.

Moreover, once patients indeed had issues, and their families were unreasonable, the attending physician would be the one in trouble.

But once the Chinese Medicine Hospital was built, things would entirely change.

Patients in critical condition could be admitted for professional treatment, and with him residing there, he could promptly respond to emergencies, ensuring timely interventions whenever issues arose with patients.

Of course, being the hospital director also had its perks.

After all, he would have the final say in the hospital’s future development, and this gave him tremendous confidence in promoting traditional Chinese medicine.

Naturally, establishing the hospital also meant taking on additional administrative responsibilities, which would require him to spend more time beyond just treating patients.

It was going to be exhausting, no doubt.

But thinking about fulfilling his ambitions through this hospital platform, Lu Xuan didn’t dwell on it too much.

Establishing the Chinese Medicine Hospital, as the future acting director, was naturally a great joy and very exciting for Lu Xuan.

As Lu Xuan’s assistant, Ji Xiuwen also felt happy for Lu Xuan from the bottom of his heart.

Previously, when Lu Xuan planned to stay with the Health Center’s Traditional Chinese Medicine Department, Ji thought it was a waste of Lu Xuan’s immense talent and skill. Even if Lu Xuan’s fame could grow by practicing at the United South Chinese Medicine Association, the Health Center still remained a smaller stage compared to larger hospitals.

Speaking frankly, if someone introduced Lu Xuan as a clinic physician at a Health Center, anyone unfamiliar with him might dismiss him.

After all, how impressive could a doctor at a Health Center be?

And it’s likely that this sentiment wasn’t limited to a handful of people; probably the majority thought the same.

But if Lu Xuan became the director of a Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, his status and position would be entirely different.

No matter how high or low the established hospital’s level, it would still be a Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital.

Even if Lu Xuan was just the acting director, he would still be the director.

That title carries weight far beyond being a department head.

Once people heard about it, who wouldn’t be taken aback?

Especially because Lu Xuan was still so young.

A director of a Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital in his twenties—who wouldn’t be bewildered upon hearing that?

In any case, setting up a Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital was far better than being a department head, and Ji Xiuwen knew this path was much faster than simply leading a department.

Taking resources from Western medicine isn’t just about having high medical skills; it also requires a certain stature in the medical community. Otherwise, despite the many masters of medicine over the years, who wouldn’t have wanted traditional Chinese medicine to flourish?

Wouldn’t they want to reclaim the top position from Western medicine?

Wouldn’t they want to surpass Western medicine?

Of course.

They all would.

Even people like Huang Beishan likely hold these aspirations.

But the problem is, while they’re highly skilled, they haven’t reached Lu Xuan’s level. Their influence in the medical world is largely confined to Yong City, limiting their broader impact.

Lu Xuan, however, is different. He’s incredibly young.

A hospital director in his twenties—who knows to what heights he might ascend in the future?

Frankly, Ji Xiuwen couldn’t even begin to imagine.

As the Chinese Medicine Hospital continued to progress actively, October arrived quickly.

During the seven-day National Day holiday, Lu Xuan bid farewell to his colleagues at the Health Center and also took a leave from the United South Chinese Medicine Association, embarking on a journey back home.

However, this time Lu Xuan wasn’t traveling alone; he was accompanied by Ji Xiuwen.

According to him, as Lu Xuan’s assistant and student, he had to meet Lu Xuan’s parents. Lu Xuan, unable to argue with him, had to agree.