While Jiang He was in the library researching...

Two thousand kilometers away in the Capital City, an event was quietly brewing.

...

Capital City, East Fourth West Street, inside the editorial department of the *Chinese Journal of Surgery*.

On the chief editor’s desk sat a stack of first drafts for the latest issue, ready to be sent to the typesetter.

Deputy Chief Editor Li Minghui held a single printout pulled from the stack. His eyes were locked on the manuscript’s conclusion, and he stared at it for a full five minutes.

The manuscript’s title was: "An Analysis of Post-Whipple Procedure Lymph Node Ratio (LNR) and Prognostic Evaluation Based on a Large, Multi-Center Sample."

Corresponding Author: Yang Xu.

First Author: Jiang He.

Li Minghui put down the manuscript, deep in thought.

From a purely research perspective, the paper before him wasn’t complex.

In essence, it was a retrospective cohort study using a large sample size.

But its true value lay in its potential for clinical application.

This paper clearly proved that:

LNR could effectively eliminate staging errors caused by varying scopes of surgical dissection, predicting patient survival more accurately than traditional N-staging.

Once this article was published, it wouldn’t just be a matter of impact factor.

After multi-center validation, it had the potential to shake up, or even rewrite, the existing clinical practice and staging guidelines for pancreatic cancer.

Li Minghui stood up and picked up the manuscript.

His colleague, Old Zhang, casually asked, "Old Li? Where are you headed?"

Li Minghui said, "I need to take this article to Elder Zheng for a look."

Old Zhang was taken aback. "Elder Zheng? Isn’t he working on the study about reasonable dissection boundaries for pancreatic cancer in the Chinese population?"

"That’s precisely why he needs to see this paper."

...

At two in the afternoon, in the office of the director of the national key laboratory.

Academician Zheng Liyan sat behind his desk, holding the proof copy Li Minghui had brought him.

Zheng Liyan was a titan in the field of hepatobiliary and pancreatic surgery in China and one of the main authors of the country’s "Guidelines for the Diagnosis and Treatment of Pancreatic Cancer."

For the past two years, he had been researching how to further standardize the scope of surgical dissection for pancreatic cancer but had struggled without a solid theoretical basis.

Until... he saw the manuscript in his hands.

Zheng Liyan read very slowly, his gaze lingering on the paper’s three comparative survival data graphs for a long time.

Finally, he looked up and said, "Chief Editor Li, is the corresponding author of this article Yang Xu from Southern Medical University First Affiliated Hospital?"

Li Minghui nodded. "Yes, Elder Zheng."

"I know Yang Xu. He has steady hands—a promising surgeon."

Zheng Liyan’s gaze fell back to the paper, looking at the first name listed.

"This Jiang He, who is he? A new doctoral student under Yang Xu?"

Hearing this question, Li Minghui’s expression became a little strange.

He turned to look at the assistant editor, Xiaowang, who had been standing by his side.

Xiaowang stepped forward. "Elder Zheng, I made a special call to Southern Medical University First Affiliated Hospital yesterday to verify the author information. Director Yang Xu personally confirmed that the core concept, data modeling, and initial draft of this paper were all independently completed by the first author, Jiang He. Director Yang was only responsible for providing access to the medical records and for polishing the final draft before submission."

Zheng Liyan nodded. "So, what year is this Jiang He in his doctoral program?"

Xiaowang hesitated. "Uh, Elder Zheng... Jiang He isn’t a doctoral student. He’s currently an undergraduate at Southern Medical University, in the ’06 clinical medicine program. He just started his third year."

Zheng Liyan: "?"

He was stunned.

"A third-year undergraduate? Are you sure the information is correct?"

"Absolutely positive." Xiaowang quickly took a printed document from his folder and handed it over. "Because this is so rare, I had someone at Southern Medical University look into this student. The results... were even more surprising."

Zheng Liyan took the document and glanced down at it.

*Southern Medical University Clinical Thinking and Skills Competition, preliminaries: finished in just over forty minutes, full marks, first in the entire university.*

*Second round: scored 99 points, first in the university, highest score in history.*

*Advanced competition training class: under Professor Wang Xiaoqing’s simulated surgery, completed the deep blind suture assessment in 3 minutes and 42 seconds, a perfect pass.*

*Currently, the student has been confirmed as the core member of the Southern Medical University team for the finals of the Medical Student Clinical Thinking Competition, to be held in the South China Region at the end of October.*

Zheng Liyan fell silent.

Medicine is an empirical science that requires a great deal of time and accumulated experience.

For a third-year undergraduate to get a perfect score on a theoretical exam, you could say he’s exceptionally gifted.

But to get a near-perfect score in deep blind suturing couldn’t be explained by talent alone.

What’s more, he had also written this LNR paper, a work capable of sending shockwaves through the academic world.

An extremely high ceiling for practical clinical skills, combined with an exceptionally sharp and seasoned grasp of the bigger picture in research.

"A promising talent..."

Zheng Liyan said softly, "My current project is in need of an LNR standard. I should be thanking him..."

No one replied.

Zheng Liyan was silent for a moment, then turned to look at the calendar by his desk.

It was densely marked with all kinds of appointments:

Ministry meetings, consultations on difficult cases, leading rounds with his team, academic seminars...

"Xiaozhang," Zheng Liyan suddenly called out to his administrative assistant outside the door.

The door was pushed open, and an assistant in a white coat walked in quickly. "Elder Zheng, your orders?"

"I recall being invited to the finals of the Medical Student Clinical Thinking Competition in the South China Region this month, correct?" Zheng Liyan asked.

The assistant nodded. "Yes, from October 30th to 31st. The organizers sent you an invitation, hoping you would serve as a special guest judge for the finals. But you declined because you were originally scheduled to attend a closed-door academic conference in Hushang."

Zheng Liyan thought for a moment and said, "Cancel the conference in Hushang, or have Xiaoxu—Director Xu Wenpei—go in my place."

The assistant was stunned, thinking he had misheard. "Cancel it? But the conference in Hushang is..."

"That’s my decision," Zheng Liyan said. "Contact the organizers. Tell them I’m free at the end of the month."

The assistant immediately bowed his head. "Yes, Elder Zheng. I’ll get on it right away."

Li Minghui and the editor, Xiaowang, exchanged a look, both seeing the shock in each other’s eyes.

What was the status of an academician like Zheng Liyan?

He was the bedrock of China’s surgical community.

For a skills competition aimed mainly at undergraduate and graduate students, getting one or two Yangtze River Scholars or directors from top-tier Grade-A Tertiary hospitals was already the pinnacle.

With Elder Zheng attending, the event’s prestige would be elevated to a whole new level.

And Li Minghui knew perfectly well that Elder Zheng wasn’t going to watch some competition.

He was going for that third-year undergraduate named Jiang He.

Zheng Liyan picked up the teacup on his desk and blew on the floating leaves, his gaze fixed on the somewhat hazy sky of the Capital City outside the window. But his eyes held a trace of anticipation.

"Southern Medical University, Jiang He..."

’On October 30th, I’ll have to see for myself just what kind of young man you are.’