Chapter 460 - 459: Counterproductive

Chapter 460: Chapter 459: Counterproductive

At nearly five in the afternoon, Yan Feifan settled into a red convertible Beetle with temporary plates, basking in the sunlight and the evening breeze as they drove away from Binhai International Airport.

"Sis, what made you decide to buy a convertible?"

"The air pollution is so bad, and you got a convertible? Do you plan on breathing exhaust fumes every day?"

Yan Ziruo, who was driving, shot her brother a sidelong glance and scoffed, "You and Su Ye bike to and from work every day. Aren’t you breathing in exhaust fumes too?"

Yan Feifan protested, "That’s different."

"Sis, Su Ye and I don’t have a choice; we have to be exposed to the polluted air."

"But you buying a convertible is just foolish. You’re actively choosing to expose yourself to pollution."

He added, "And Sis, you’re not the greatest driver. Convertibles have pretty poor safety ratings."

His words started to get to her, and she snapped, "Yan Feifan, shut your mouth! No one will think you’re mute if you just keep quiet."

As she spoke, she slowed down a little and pressed a button on the console.

In a moment, the Beetle’s hardtop emerged from the trunk like something out of Transformers, rising to cover their heads.

Yan Feifan immediately noticed how much quieter it was inside the car. He nodded slightly. "Well, at least you weren’t a complete idiot. You picked the hardtop, not the soft-top."

Yan Ziruo huffed angrily. "Feifan, if you keep running your mouth, you’d better believe I’ll march right back to the dealership and get that Porsche."

Yan Feifan quickly clamped his mouth shut and said no more.

A few minutes later, it was Yan Ziruo who broke the silence.

"The moment Su Ye and I walked into the dealership, I saw the convertible Beetle in the showroom and just fell in love with it."

"It brought back an old dream of mine, too."

"Way back when, I’d see other girls driving this car and think to myself that I’d buy one too, as soon as I had the money."

"It’s such a pretty little car."

Yan Ziruo hummed. "I was originally planning on getting a 911."

"But when I saw this Beetle, I thought I shouldn’t be too flashy. Figured I’d save you some money."

After waiting a moment for her brother’s response, Yan Ziruo couldn’t help but ask, "Why aren’t you saying anything?"

"Sis, you told me to stop running my mouth," Yan Feifan said, sounding aggrieved.

After a pause, he spoke again. "Take me to the hospital first."

"Is there an emergency patient?"

"But Su Ye’s at home," Yan Ziruo reminded him. "She said she and Mrs. Du are making a special meal for you."

"It’ll only take ten or twenty minutes," Yan Feifan explained. "I just need to ask a young patient and his family a few questions..."

Sometime after six, the Yan siblings arrived at the Affiliated Hospital.

Still in his casual clothes, Yan Feifan went straight to the cardiac surgery ward and found the student who was preparing for his high school entrance exam, along with his parents.

Yan Feifan introduced himself and studied the student—a boy with a slight build, nearly five feet seven inches tall, with dull, lifeless eyes.

The student’s father began, "Over the past month or two, our son has complained a few times about headaches and pressure in his head. He said his vision would sometimes get blurry."

"We thought it was just from studying too hard, so we tried to improve his diet with all sorts of nutritious foods."

"Who could have imagined he had a brain tumor?"

"He’s only fifteen. Don’t brain tumors usually happen to people in their forties or fifties, when they’re older?"

"It’s not unheard of for children as young as three or five to develop brain tumors," Yan Feifan explained softly.

His expression turned serious. "I’ve studied the MRI scans of the tumor. To shrink it and restore his vision using a percutaneous injection, I’ll have to insert the needle here... and here..."

As he spoke, Yan Feifan pointed to a spot at the base of the youth’s left ear, and then to the upper left side of his head.

"I will perform two punctures."

"I have to make it clear that this procedure could potentially restore your son’s vision."

"However, it’s only a possibility. I can’t offer any guarantees."

"Furthermore, he will experience severe headaches after the procedure. They could last for three to five days, or even longer, which would affect his performance on the high school entrance exam."

"There is also a risk that this procedure could cause hearing damage in his left ear, or other neurological deficits from brain injury."

At this, Yan Feifan noticed looks of fear and hesitation cross the faces of the youth and his parents.

He seized the opportunity to add, "Both the percutaneous injection and conservative management with medication carry a risk of brain injury."

"I strongly recommend you opt for surgical removal of the tumor."

"It’s just the high school entrance exam. He can always retake it next year. It’s simply not worth the risk of brain damage."

The youth’s parents exchanged a look before the father spoke. "Dr. Yan, thank you for your concern."

"Let’s do this: we’ll think it over carefully tonight, weigh the pros and cons, and then make our final decision."

Seeing that they were no longer insistent, Yan Feifan assumed his persuasion had been effective and left, quite pleased.

’Many patients engage in wishful thinking, believing they’re the special exception favored by fate.’

’They think that a small probability—a so-called two or five percent chance of surgical failure or side effects—could never possibly happen to *them*.’

’But to a doctor, that ’small percentage’ is just a statistic.’

’And doctors have seen those small-probability events actually occur.’

’That’s why doctors do everything they can to minimize that risk.’

’Unless it’s absolutely necessary, a doctor would never advise a patient to take an unnecessary risk, no matter how small the odds.’

’It’s better not to tempt fate with that ’what if’...’

When Yan Feifan got back to his apartment at Zuimo Court, a delicious aroma filled the air. He walked into the dining room to find the table laden with an impressive spread of six dishes and two soups.

Yan Feifan asked cheerfully, "Su Ye, your cooking skills have clearly improved! Which one of these dishes did you make yourself?"

Yu Suye chuckled. "I had a hand in every single dish! For this one with shiitake mushrooms and bok choy, I was the one who sorted and washed the vegetables."

"I’m the one who scored the fish."

"And I sliced the beef."

Yan Feifan rolled his eyes. "So you were just the sous-chef. And here I was thinking you’d actually cooked a dish or two."

"I’ll get my chance," Yu Suye promised.

"Just wait until I’ve studied with Mrs. Du for a little longer. Then I’ll cook a whole feast for you all by myself..."

After dinner, Yan Feifan returned to his bedroom to design a method for controlling a surgical robot to retrieve the bullet from Wang Zenglin’s lumbar spine.

’But as he delved into the details, he suddenly realized he had oversimplified the problem.’

’To achieve his goal, the surgical arm would have to be as flexible as a snake, bending and turning to navigate around organs and other obstacles.’

’It would also need to be incredibly thin, with a maximum diameter of no more than half a centimeter.’

After running numerous simulations and calculations, Yan Feifan finally came up with a design for the simplest possible surgical arm.

’Simplest’ was a relative term; the arm still required seven flexible, direction-changing joints.’

’Looking at the schematic he had sketched on the paper, Yan Feifan’s own confidence began to waver.’

’Could such a complex, slender mechanical arm even be built?’

At that moment, the sound of his phone ringing interrupted Yan Feifan’s thoughts.

He picked up his phone and saw it was a call from Dr. Qiu Ge!

"Dr. Yan, the student’s family has made their decision."

"They chose to go with medication and have transferred to the Neurology Department."

Yan Feifan let out a surprised, "Ah."

"Dr. Yan, I think all your talk about headaches and brain damage must have scared them off."

"Besides, they thought you were a little too young. They’re more inclined to trust the older specialists in Neurology."

"Sigh... To pass up a safe and effective option... I just don’t know what to say..."

Hearing this, Yan Feifan was at a loss for words.

’He had laid out the risks so starkly in the hopes of talking them out of the injection and convincing them to choose surgery. He never imagined it would backfire so completely...’