The Godfather of Surgery

Both arteries and four veins had been successfully sutured, one after the other, with not a single redundant movement. Each action flowed seamlessly into the next, without hesitation.

The next finger!

Hmm. The arrogance that Song Zimo had previously felt was now all but gone.

The small refrigerator for sterile storage was opened, and Song Zimo personally retrieved the severed middle finger. He carefully placed it on the operating table.

"Vitals?" Yang Ping asked.

"Stable! Don't worry, continue," Liang Jing responded confidently. Participating in such a challenging surgery was an honor for him.

This kind of tension wasn't like the chaos of emergency rescues, where everything was loud and messy. This tension was quiet, contained, and calm—like a person walking a tightrope with no safety net, suspended high above a bottomless gorge. One misstep could send them plummeting to certain destruction.

"Need a break?" Director Han asked with concern.

"No need!" Yang Ping replied firmly.

Director Han glanced at the clock. The previous vessel anastomosis had taken just over twenty minutes, meaning each vessel was repaired in about three minutes.

Next came the nerve anastomosis, which was considerably easier than suturing blood vessels. Nerves are solid structures, not hollow like blood vessels, so there's no need to worry about patency. Additionally, since the nerves in the fingers are primarily sensory, they had a higher tolerance for errors. There was little chance of misalignment between motor and sensory nerves.

For now, the entire team briefly averted their eyes from the screen to get a moment's rest before focusing again for the next vascular anastomosis.

The most thrilling and delicate part of the surgery was the vascular anastomosis. They needed to conserve their vision and energy for the most critical part. The nerves, though essential, were easier to handle and less tiring to focus on.

The two nerves were successfully sutured, followed by the flexor and extensor tendons—simple work that didn't require a microscope. Finally, the skin was sutured to close the wound and complete the replantation of the index finger.

From blood vessel anastomosis to skin closure, the process took only about 30 minutes, a speed that left no room for complaints.

Once the index finger was reattached, the rubber tourniquet at the base of the finger was loosened. The previously pale fingertip slowly turned pink, and the blood flow through the vessels was confirmed—no leaks.

Now, the middle finger.

Once again, Song Zimo retrieved the severed middle finger. If there had been any remnants of arrogance left in him before, they had now completely evaporated.

He placed the severed finger carefully on the surgical table and returned quietly to his seat.

The process was repeated: stabilize the fracture, suture the blood vessels, connect the nerves, repair the tendons, and finally close the wound.

"Need a break?" Director Han asked again.

"Thanks, Director, I'm fine," Yang Ping said.

And once more, the process of vascular anastomosis began.

The previously relaxed tension immediately returned, and some of the team, still slightly fatigued, found it hard to adjust to the renewed focus. Every single person's eyes were fixed on the screen, unwilling to look away for even a second.

The surgical pace remained steady and fast. After completing the middle finger, Yang Ping moved on to the ring finger.

Director Han's posture relaxed as his shoulders sank, the tension easing. After the ring finger, only the pinky remained. Even if something went wrong, it would have a minimal impact on the function of the hand.

At this point, Song Zimo had completely accepted the situation. Medicine—especially clinical medicine and surgery—is based on concrete realities. There's no room for boasting. Everything is right there, visible, tangible.

And now, the pinky.

"Pinkie!"

Song Zimo placed the severed pinky on the surgical table. He was more than happy to carry out this task now.

Yang Ping stretched his neck and relaxed his hands slightly to adjust his posture, allowing himself a moment of reprieve.

"This finger's got some issues. The vessels are a bit stuck," Yang Ping murmured.

"Premature baby. Underdeveloped blood vessels, and the surrounding tissues are poorly developed too, causing the kind of scarring adhesion you're seeing," Director Han observed, glancing at the video feed.

"Mm," Yang Ping agreed, understanding the situation.

Yang Ping carefully began to locate the blood vessels, gently separating the hardened adhesive tissue. Slowly, the blood vessel tips emerged. He used the forceps to grip the outer membrane, and the scissors were used to carefully separate the tissue. The adhesion was tight, making it difficult to separate without risking tearing the vessel wall.

Yang Ping paused, his scissors frozen in mid-air.

"Don't rush. We've reattached four fingers, and the hand's functionality is perfectly fine. We've already been successful," Director Han said, offering encouragement.

"I'll try again," Yang Ping said, determination in his voice.

He wasn't a perfectionist, but he wasn't one to give up easily either. He liked challenges. When he was in college, he had loved running—starting with the 1500 meters, progressing to 3,000, 5,000, 10 kilometers, and eventually running a full marathon over 40 kilometers. He relished the feeling of constantly pushing himself and believed that with enough effort, he could achieve any goal.

The scissors began again, moving more slowly this time. Piece by piece, tissue was carefully separated. With each cut, he paused to reassess, ensuring precision. The forceps held the blood vessel steadily, while the scissors worked meticulously along the vessel wall.

"Have you done this kind of replantation before?" Song Zimo asked quietly.

"Mm."

Yang Ping only responded with a quiet affirmation.

Song Zimo didn't particularly like Yang Ping's attitude.

But Yang Ping was finding a rhythm now. The feel of the instruments was more controlled, and the speed of the scissors picked up gradually as he gained confidence.

The first blood vessel was successfully freed from the adhesions and had enough length for the anastomosis. He moved on to the second blood vessel. A total of at least four vessels were needed—two arteries and two veins—to ensure proper circulation.

The veins were more difficult to separate than the arteries, as their walls were thinner. However, Yang Ping had already gained experience from the previous dissection and was able to separate the veins with precision. The scissors sliced carefully between the vessel wall and the surrounding adhesions.

Four vessels—two arteries and two veins—were successfully separated at both ends without any damage.

The vessels freed from the adhesions were more fragile. And given that this was the pinky, the blood vessels were even smaller. Suturing these would be several times more difficult than the previous vessels.

"This one's going to be hard to suture. It feels like if I'm not careful, the vessel will tear," someone in the adjacent room commented.

Everyone turned their gaze to the speaker, glaring at them. The person immediately fell silent, and everyone refocused on the video.

Su Yixuan, the orthopedic instrument nurse, understood the surgery far more deeply than a regular nurse.

With nothing to do for the moment, she turned to watch the screen, awed by the impressive skill on display. No wonder the room had fallen silent. The only sound was the gentle hum of the anesthesia machine.

From where Su Yixuan was standing, she could see Yang Ping's profile, even catching a glimpse of his focused eyes as they looked through the microscope.

Those eyes—full of determination, confidence, and focus—struck her deeply.

A slight warmth crept up her face. What was she thinking? Quickly, she shifted her gaze elsewhere.

Yang Ping continued to suture the blood vessels with steady hands. The process was slow at first, but after a few attempts, he had found the technique that worked for these delicate blood vessels.

His suturing remained flawless—every stitch precise and flawless.

Once the final stitch on the blood vessels was placed, Yang Ping set down the needle holder and the suture material. Su Yixuan carefully caught it, gently placing the tiny needle back on the suture board.

"Should I handle the nerve and tendon sutures?" Song Zimo asked.

Director Han shook his head. "No, let him finish. He'll complete the surgery."

This wasn't about anything else—it was about allowing the surgery to end perfectly. Anyone stepping in to replace Yang Ping at this point, even for just one stitch, would be seen as a flaw.

Yang Ping continued without hesitation, stitching the nerves, tendons, and finally the skin.

Once the rubber tourniquet was loosened, the pinky's distal tip slowly regained its healthy color.

The dressing was applied, and the plaster cast was set. The surgery had concluded—perfectly.