Chapter 0398: The Art of the Heart

Although he was no longer short of money, Zhao Fusheng knew that without finding a suitable manager, he still couldn't act rashly.

A successful business, if lacking the right person to manage it, would likely collapse in the end. After all, no matter how brilliant the idea, if errors occurred during execution, it would be futile.

Though the time was neither short nor long, Zhao Fusheng knew everything was still within reach.

A few days later, when the weekend came, he packed up his things and went straight home.

He had promised Fan Beibei last time that he would take her out to play this week.

As soon as he arrived home, he saw his mother and Li Yuan getting ready to go out.

"What's wrong?" Zhao Fusheng asked, looking puzzled.

"Beibei has a fever and phlegm. I'm worried it might be pneumonia," his mother replied.

Both she and Li Yuan were nurses by training, so they naturally understood many illnesses and could make fairly accurate judgments.

"Then let's go to the hospital," Zhao Fusheng said with a nod.

It was normal for children to get sick, especially during seasonal changes.

Seeing Zhao Fusheng, Fan Beibei managed a faint smile, but her little face was pale, clearly not in good spirits.

"Beibei, be good. Big brother will take you to see the doctor," Zhao Fusheng said, taking the little girl into his arms.

"Mm," she nodded weakly, whispering in his ear, "Big brother, I want to eat grapes..."

Zhao Fusheng couldn't help but laugh. This girl was really a foodie, still thinking about eating even when she was sick.

"Alright, alright. Let's see the doctor first, and later I'll buy you some," he quickly said to the little princess.

To him, Fan Beibei was a little princess he doted on. As long as he could manage it, he would agree to whatever she asked.

The group went downstairs and headed straight to the Second Municipal Hospital.

It was called the Second Hospital because its full name was Ninghai Medical College Second Affiliated Hospital, and old Ninghai residents were used to calling it the Second Hospital.

Going upstairs to the pediatrics department, Zhao Fusheng had just stood there holding Fan Beibei when several people greeted his mother and Li Yuan.

"Oh, Li Yuan, Juanzi, what brings you here?"

"Sister Li, Sister Juan."

Several nurses gathered around, chatting cheerfully with Li Yuan and Zhao's mother.

Li Yuan pointed at Fan Beibei: "The child might have pneumonia. I brought her for a check-up."

Hearing this, everyone dared not delay. Some went to find a doctor, others fetched supplies, and soon a deputy director of pediatrics was called over.

They were all old acquaintances, so pleasantries were brief. It turned out Li Yuan was right—Fan Beibei had viral pneumonia.

What followed was naturally hospitalization, injections, and medication. Zhao's mother stayed to look after the little girl, while Li Yuan went home to fetch items for the hospital stay.

Li Yuan had initially planned to put Fan Beibei in a general ward, but Zhao Fusheng thought for a moment and said to his mother, "It's better to have a private room to avoid cross-infection."

This was true. Children don't recover easily when sick; their immunity is weak. If cross-infection occurred, they'd have to stay longer.

Although a private room was more expensive, it was at least relatively cleaner.

Of course, this was also because the family was better off now. In the past, Zhao Fusheng wouldn't have said such a thing.

Zhao's mother didn't overthink it. After hearing Zhao Fusheng's words, she went to find the head nurse, and indeed, a private room was arranged for Fan Beibei.

He stayed with the little patient in the ward all morning. At noon, after coaxing Fan Beibei to sleep, he left the hospital.

As he walked down to the hospital lobby, someone approached from the opposite direction. The moment Zhao Fusheng saw him, he paused, then a smile spread across his face.

"Hello, Professor Chen," he said respectfully, bowing his head as the middle-aged man in his forties walked past him.

"Mm, hello," Professor Chen replied, startled, but nodded politely.

Then he walked on, assuming Zhao Fusheng was just an intern at the hospital.

Zhao Fusheng stood there, watching his back, saying nothing for a long time.

Professor Chen's full name was Chen Jianmin. Zhao Fusheng respected him so much because, in both medical skill and ethics, he was truly benevolent.

In his previous life, when his father was hospitalized and needed immediate surgery, Zhao Fusheng had no money at the time. He was distraught, even hiding in the corridor to cry.

But later, the hospital proactively offered to reduce part of the surgical fees and allowed Zhao Fusheng to raise funds, performing the surgery on his father first.

This was proposed by Chen Jianmin.

And he had done such things countless times.

Though people often say hospitals are cold places, sometimes there is warmth here.

At least, in Zhao Fusheng's view, every profession has good and bad people. It has nothing to do with the profession; it's purely a matter of personal character.

Just as among officials there are corrupt ones, there are also incorruptible and upright ones.

At this time, Chen Jianmin was probably not yet the head of surgery, but only the deputy head. Zhao Fusheng greeted him and said nothing more.

If he rashly tried to ingratiate himself, the man would likely be startled.

As he stepped toward the door, before he could leave, he saw a man rushing in carrying an old man on his back, shouting, "Doctor! Doctor! Help! Help!"

The two passed each other, and Zhao Fusheng quickly stepped aside to make way.

In that instant, he saw the man was in his twenties, with a crew cut, his face full of anxiety.

The old man on his back was about sixty or seventy, with white hair, pale face, and eyes tightly shut.

Seeing a nurse come over to ask what was happening, Zhao Fusheng shook his head and didn't pay further attention.

In a place like a hospital, such scenes were all too common.

People say doctors heal the wounded and rescue the dying, but in reality, everyone knows they too have limits. Every medical worker is essentially snatching patients from the clutches of death, but human strength is finite. Some things are beyond human capability.

Walking out of the hospital, Zhao Fusheng could only hope the old man would be safe. After all, for anyone, parting between life and death is undoubtedly a painful thing.

Back at school, Zhao Fusheng didn't think too much about it. Fan Beibei's illness wasn't serious; with pneumonia, she could probably be discharged in a week. He planned to visit her again tomorrow.

But the next morning, when he arrived at the hospital again, he encountered the young man once more.

This time, however, the young man was sitting at the entrance of the surgical ward, his face full of pain, hands covering his face, sobbing uncontrollably.