Cannon Fodder in an Era Drama — I Survive with Acting

Chapter 227: Forcing Me to Change My Mind?

And this time, establishing the acupuncture department directly broke the long-held "Western medicine is the only way" mentality.

"What’s wrong with acupuncture? Is there a problem?"

"I don’t deny that our hospital’s primary mission is to serve military personnel."

"But shouldn’t we also think about the civilians outside? Are the hospital’s gates only open to those in uniform?"

Sunlight slanted in through the window, falling on his epaulets.

His gaze sharpened as he scanned the faces of his opponents.

"Don’t you all know how expensive Western medicine is? Plenty of civilians nearby get sick, and if they can’t afford treatment, they just have to endure it. Minor ailments get dragged out until they become major problems."

His voice grew louder, yet it held no trace of anger.

"A few needles can alleviate their suffering, so why not try it? Is our conscience as doctors clear while we just stand by and watch them suffer?"

The conference room fell into a brief silence, leaving only the TICK-TOCK of the wall clock.

His words made Xu Jun’s and the others’ faces burn.

Beads of sweat formed on their temples.

Especially the few who had been the most vocal moments before; now, none of them dared to meet Fei Jin’s gaze.

The feeling of having their hypocrisy exposed in public made them squirm in their seats.

One of the bolder ones muttered under his breath, "Mr. Fei, you can’t put it that way. We’re a military hospital. Our funding comes from the military, so of course we have to prioritize our own people."

As he spoke, he carefully observed Fei Jin’s expression.

"There are too many civilians; we can’t possibly handle all of them. Offering some token assistance is one thing, but surely we can’t delay treatment for our own people for the sake of outsiders, can we?"

Fei Jin’s eyes darkened. His gaze turned piercing, and a sharp, intimidating aura washed over them.

He SLAMMED his palm down on the mahogany conference table, making the teacup jump violently.

The lid CLATTERED to the floor, rolling a few times before coming to a stop.

"What’s your name?"

"Get on your feet!"

The man flinched violently. His face went deathly pale, and cold sweat beaded on his temples. His lips trembled as he opened his mouth, but only a few dry syllables escaped.

Fei Jin didn’t spare him another glance, whipping his head around.

"Xu Jun! You’ve gotten far too comfortable in your position as deputy director, haven’t you? Sitting in your office all day, drinking tea and reading the newspaper, your brain must have turned to stone! When faced with urgent medical needs for both soldiers and civilians, you show no sense of responsibility, only shirking your duties and making excuses!"

"Effective today, you are stripped of your title as deputy director and demoted to a regular staff member! This is to be carried out immediately! You’re transferred to the archives to sort documents. You can come write a self-criticism report when you’ve truly reflected on your mistakes! Now get out!"

The room erupted.

It was as if someone had hit the mute button in the conference room. All sound vanished in an instant.

The air grew still, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

You could have heard a pin drop.

The few who had been whispering their agreement and fanning the flames just moments ago now looked like strangled chickens. They all ducked their heads, their backs ramrod straight.

But there’s always one who refuses to yield, who thinks he has powerful backing. Relying on a sliver of wishful thinking, he spoke up timidly:

"Mr. Fei... We’re not really opposing you... and we’re not disrespecting your decision... It’s just that, well... this acupuncture business, it does sound a bit... um... how can I put this? It doesn’t seem like something a proper top-tier hospital should be involved with."

His voice trailed off as he spoke, his gaze shifting evasively, unable to look straight ahead.

"If word gets out that our hospital is treating patients by sticking needles in them, I’m afraid it will damage our professional image and reputation..."

Another man, mustering his courage, quickly chimed in.

"Exactly! Besides, we’d have to organize special training courses, invite experts to lecture, prepare materials, and schedule everything. It would be a huge drain on our staff and resources! Our nurses and doctors are already run off their feet, working back-to-back night shifts. Where would they find the energy to learn some ’fringe technique’ like this?"

Hearing this, Fei Jin scoffed.

He slowly stood up, his hands braced on the edge of the table.

"Reputation? That’s all you can talk about! When a life is on the line, do you still worry about what’s respectable? The patient is in their hospital bed, screaming in agony, their family is heartbroken and weeping, and you’re here debating what’s ’respectable’?"

"As long as it can cure the sick and reunite a family, *that* is the greatest form of respectability! What do you mean, ’not proper’? I don’t think acupuncture is the problem here. The problem is that your mindsets are stuck twenty years in the past! Your horizons are too narrow. You can’t accept new things, and you certainly can’t accept a genuine desire to serve the people!"

"And as for resources, that’s a simple matter! As long as this technique can genuinely save lives and alleviate the suffering of both our soldiers and the civilian population, what’s wrong with investing a little more time, energy, and funding?"

"It’s not that there aren’t enough resources, but that some people..."

He scanned the room, his gaze burning like a torch.

"...have hearts too small to hold responsibility, too small to see the bigger picture! All they can hold is their own little comfort zones and their petty vested interests!"

"Anyone else have a problem with this?"

he demanded in a low voice.

The entire room was dead silent.

The earlier questions and whispers had vanished into thin air, leaving only a suffocating silence.

Just then, Xu Jun shot up from his seat.

His chair SCREECHED as he shoved it back violently, and it slammed against the wall.

Without a word, his jaw clenched, he turned and strode toward the door.

When he reached the door, he lifted his foot and kicked it hard.

A loud BANG echoed as the entire conference room seemed to shake.

Dust rained down from the doorframe, and the echo lingered.

Fei Jin quietly watched the wooden door that was still trembling slightly.

’Think that little stunt will make me change my mind?’

’Fat chance.’

The meeting ended hastily.

Fei Jin stood up, straightened the creases on his cuffs, then turned and walked out the door.

The light in the hallway outside was dim and yellow.

Cheng Peng was already waiting by the door, standing with his hands at his sides, his expression taut.

As soon as he saw Fei Jin appear, he immediately stepped forward.

"Cheng Peng."

Fei Jin didn’t break his stride, merely turning his head slightly and keeping his voice low.

"Sir!"

Cheng Peng snapped his heels together, straightening his body and squaring his shoulders.

"Go investigate. Besides Xu Jun, who else was fanning the flames and leading the opposition to the acupuncture department during today’s meeting."

Fei Jin’s tone was calm.

"Have those people ’invited’ to my office, one by one. I said ’invited,’ not summoned. I want to have a personal talk with each and every one of them."

"Yes, sir!"

Cheng Peng affirmed sharply, a ruthless glint in his eye.

He didn’t ask any questions and turned to leave.

Fei Jin paused. He adjusted his tie and added in a low voice, "Don’t let Qingya know about this yet."

He knew Song Qingya had always been soft-hearted.

If she found out that people in the meeting were targeting the department she had poured her heart into, she would likely blame herself, and it might even affect her work.

Besides, the situation was still unclear. It wasn’t a good time to tip his hand.

"Understood!"

Cheng Peng looked back, gave a salute, and then departed at a brisk pace.

「Two hours later.」

The door to the operating room slowly opened.

The white surgical lights were still shining, casting the blurry silhouettes of the medical staff.

Old Liu emerged, slowly pushing a gurney.

On the gurney, Dean Yuan lay quietly, his face covered with a transparent oxygen mask.

The readouts on the monitor blinked with a steady green light.

His blood pressure was stable, his heartbeat was regular, and his blood oxygen saturation was normal.

The surgery was a success.