Chapter 9: Scolding the Dean into a Daze

  Yu Zimin asked a few more questions about Zhang Wenzhong's situation, and after confirming that he was fine, he suddenly remembered the man standing next to him with an obvious change in expression. He smiled awkwardly and said: "Ah... look at me, how could I forget to introduce you two? Director Zhao, this is Mr. Zhang. Don't look at his young age, but his medical skills are superb, even I feel inferior to him. Mr. Zhang, this is our hospital's Director Zhao, who is also a renowned brain surgery expert nationwide."

  "Mr. Zhang, hello." Dean Zhao smiled and extended his hand towards Zhang Wen-zhong.

  Zhang Wen-zhong did not rush to shake hands with Director Zhao, but instead was coldly sizing him up.

  This Director Zhao, before becoming the director, may have been a medical worker. But after becoming the director, he has already completed his transformation. Now he is more like a politician than a doctor. Take his current smile, for example, it's also the kind of hypocritical smile on a politician's face, and when he stretches out his hand, his gesture is as if a leader is meeting with subordinates or ordinary people.

  No need for any other examination, Zhang Wen-zhong could see at a glance that Zhao's body had long been hollowed out by wine, lust, wealth and breath. If he were to perform surgery now, he would probably collapse on the operating table. Perhaps he has even forgotten how to hold a scalpel.

  Whether in the past or present, Zhang Wenzhong despised doctors like Director Zhao who 'don't do their job properly'. Therefore, facing Director Zhao's outstretched hand, he not only didn't shake it but also let out a cold snort.

  Director Zhao's face flashed a hint of displeasure, but he still controlled his emotions and quickly hid the displeasure, his face still maintaining a hypocritical smile.

  Zhang Wen-zhong naturally saw the displeasure on Director Zhao's face, and he sneered, asking: "I'd like to ask Director Zhao, what are the charges and services for this luxurious ward?"

  When Zhang Wen heard about the high-end ward, a hint of pride flashed across Director Zhao's face, because this high-end ward building, which cost hundreds of millions to build, was completed under his leadership.

  Because the environment here is beautiful, the supporting facilities are complete, and the doctors and nurses attached to it are the top talents in the hospital, so wanting to live here is also a huge expense. Ordinary people can't afford this expensive medical bill at all, so those who stay here are either rich or noble. It's because both the hardware and software here are well-equipped that every official and celebrity who stays here praises it endlessly, and Director Zhao has also benefited greatly from it.

  Director Zhao, pleased with himself, no longer held it against Zhang Wen-zhong for refusing to shake hands and began to introduce the high-end ward building at length. In fact, he also wanted to show off in front of Zhang Wen-zhong, letting this "country bumpkin" from a certain traditional Chinese medicine family (as guessed by Yue Zi-min) broaden his horizons.

  It was just this garrulous Director Zhao who apparently didn't notice Zhang Wen's increasingly gloomy expression.

  "That's enough!" Zhang Wen Zhong suddenly shouted, interrupting Director Zhao's words and causing Director Zhao to look at him with a shocked gaze, unable to understand why he had suddenly blown up.

  Zhang Wenzhong gazed coldly at Dean Zhao, squeezing out a voice with a hint of chill from between his teeth: "I didn't expect that not only would you not feel ashamed about this matter, but instead you'd be gloating. I ask you, have you forgotten all the five prohibitions and ten essentials of being a doctor?"

  Just as Zhang Wenzhong was sternly questioning, a majestic and upright aura emanated from his body, which made even Zhao, who had seen many high-ranking officials, somewhat unable to withstand. A thin layer of fine sweat instantly seeped out on his forehead.

  The majesty of the gods, can it be withstood by ordinary people? Even if Zhang Wenzhong has now become an ordinary person, when he exerts his power, he can still make the heavens and earth change color. Let alone Zhao Yuanzhang, who has been emptied by wine, lust, wealth, and breath? He didn't faint on the spot, which is already not bad.

  "What are the Five Precepts and Ten Essentials? Th-th-that's... what is that?" Under Zhang Wenzhong's powerful pressure, even Director Zhao couldn't speak fluently.

  Zhang Wenzhong looked at Director Zhao with disdain, then turned to Yue Zimeng and said: "Yue Lao, you should know the Five Precepts and Ten Essentials, shouldn't you? Let's not mention the previous ones, but tell him what the tenth essential is."

  Zhang Wen-zhong said this with a commanding tone. However, for some reason, Yue Zi-min didn't think there was anything wrong with it and instead had an attitude of "it should be so". He nodded and replied: "The tenth of the 'Ten Essentials of a Doctor' is: Do not prioritize profit, but rather store up benevolence and righteousness; though rich and poor may differ, medicine is administered without distinction."

  Zhang Wenzhong said, "I suppose this Director Zhao also grew up drinking foreign ink and can't understand the classical language left behind by our ancestors. Never mind, Old Yue, would you please trouble yourself to translate this sentence for him?"

  "Good."

  Actually, Yue Zimin had always been firmly opposed to Director Zhao's plan to build a high-end ward. He thought that instead of spending so much money on a special ward for high-ranking officials and the wealthy, it would be better to purchase some advanced medical equipment or improve the conditions in the ordinary wards, allowing all patients to benefit. Unfortunately, Director Zhao was stubborn at the time and refused to listen to his suggestion.

  The doctor should not prioritize profits, but rather be kind and compassionate, putting the patient first instead of money. When treating poor and rich people, we should treat them equally and not discriminate.

  Zhang Wenzhong clapped his hands and said: "Yue Lao, you explained it very well. Director Zhao, did you hear that clearly?"

  Before Director Zhao could retort, Zhang Wen-zhong pointed at the bridge of his nose and started scolding: "Let's not mention how your hospital charges. Just look at this high-end ward building, it's enough to show that you've lost your medical ethics, you've turned from a doctor into a businessman! Someone like you doesn't even deserve to be a doctor! Luckily you're not wearing a white coat now, if you were, I'd rip it off you on the spot. Because you don't deserve to wear one!"

  "You, you, you..." Dean Zhao pointed at Zhang Wen-zhong, his emotions stirred up.

  "What's wrong with me? Did I say something wrong?" Zhang Wenzhong sneered and said: "With you like this, are you still a specialist professor? In my opinion, you're simply a brick expert, that's right! A parasite like you who deceives the world and steals fame should have hanged yourself to atone for your sins long ago!"

  "Ah..." The emotional Dean Zhao's breathing suddenly became urgent, and he gasped for several breaths, unable to alleviate his symptoms. Just as Yue Zimin was about to go over and help him, he suddenly rolled his eyes back, threw his head back, and fell to the ground with a thud.

  The nurse was stunned.

  Chen Jian was also stunned.

  Yue Zimin was also stunned.

  Neither of them had expected that Zhao, the director who was said to have a thicker skin than the city walls, would actually faint from Zhang Wen's criticism.