Transmigrating as the Younger Sister of a Bigshot with Multiple Identities

Chapter 702: Most Likely to Be Handicapped

Translator: Henyee Translations  Editor: Henyee Translations

Ruan Xueling had been rushed to Jin City Military Hospital by Xiao Yize, fighting for her life in the ICU.

Outside the hospital, a throng of media personnel lingered, hungry for updates on Ruan Xueling’s condition.

Strict protocols governed the military hospital, reinforced by Xiao Yize’s directives, ensuring the reporters remained outside, preserving the hospital’s order.

Within the hospital corridor, Gu Zhaoming and Gu Pei occupied seats, their gazes fixed on the door leading to the resuscitation room.

Gu Zhaoming, renowned as a shrewd operator in the business realm, appeared crestfallen, his usual composure shattered, leaving him adrift in uncertainty.

Beside him, Gu Pei, once prone to leisurely pastimes like gaming, sat in a daze. His eyes, reddened from fatigue, betrayed the weight of the situation.

His phone incessantly buzzed with messages from friends, but in his state of despair, he switched it off, finding solace neither in communication nor distraction.

After ushering Ruan Xueling into the resuscitation room, Xiao Yize took the initiative to handle her registration and settle the fees, mindful of his promise to Miss Gu to safeguard Madam Gu at all costs.

Within the hospital, a palpable sense of despair permeated the air. The resuscitation room’s door remained firmly closed, casting a somber pall over the corridor.

Amidst the gloom, families of other patients joined Gu Zhaoming and company, their collective grief echoing through the halls in a symphony of sorrow.

With each opening of the resuscitation room’s door, anxious relatives encircled the emerging doctors, desperate for any shred of news.

Gu Zhaoming and Gu Pei mirrored the restless anticipation, their hearts heavy with apprehension as they awaited updates on Ruan Xueling’s condition.

Every passing moment felt interminable, each second stretching into eternity in the agonizing wait.

As the resuscitation room’s door creaked open once more, Gu Zhaoming and Gu Pei instinctively rose from their seats, gravitating towards the entrance in hopeful anticipation.

After the doctor emerged, he was immediately surrounded by anxious family members, prompting him to inquire, “Is anyone here for Ruan Xueling?”

“Right here, I’m her husband!” Gu Zhaoming’s voice rang out, his eyes brightening with hope as he stepped forward.

Beside him, Gu Pei hovered nervously, eager for news. “Doctor, how’s my mother?”

Behind his mask, the doctor’s tone was grave, his words brisk. “Please, don’t fret. The patient’s condition is stable for now.”

He continued, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the gloom. “We managed to staunch the bleeding in time upon her arrival, averting any irreversible consequences from blood loss.”

To the doctor, it seemed almost miraculous. In similar cases, patients often succumbed to exsanguination or hemorrhagic shock, risking permanent brain damage due to oxygen deprivation.

Gu Zhaoming and Gu Pei breathed a tentative sigh of relief, the tension in their shoulders easing slightly.

In a moment of realization, Gu Pei connected the dots, recalling the hemostatic medicine Gu Jin had administered to Ruan Xueling. “It must have been Gu Jin’s hemostatic medicine!”

The doctor, intrigued by the efficacy of the medication, felt compelled to inquire further about its nature.

However, the urgency of the situation demanded immediate attention. The doctor, after perusing Ruan Xueling’s CT scan report, assumed a solemn demeanor. “Unfortunately, the prognosis isn’t favorable. The impact from the fall resulted in intracranial injury and bleeding, necessitating surgical intervention.”

“The procedure carries inherent risks, particularly given the location of the hematoma within a critical area of the brain. Even our most skilled neurosurgeon at the military hospital boasts a success rate of 60%. However, there’s a possibility of postoperative disability.”

Presenting the detailed consent form, the doctor implored, “If you agree, please sign. We’ll proceed with the surgery at once.”

Gu Zhaoming and Gu Pei’s hearts plummeted at the stark reality before them.

“A 60% success rate?! And the potential for disability?” Gu Pei’s voice trembled with anxiety. “Isn’t there a more proficient specialist? What about other hospitals?”

With trembling hands, Gu Zhaoming grasped the pen and the consent form, his gaze pleading with the doctor. “Surely there’s someone else—perhaps in the capital or overseas—with a higher success rate?”

Regrettably, the doctor shook his head. “Our hospital’s top neurosurgeon is considered among the finest globally. The circumstances remain unchanged whether here in Jin City, the capital, or abroad. The success rate…”

Mid-sentence, the doctor’s voice trailed off as a realization dawned upon him. Suddenly, he recalled the renowned neurosurgeon occupying the VIP ward of the military hospital’s neurosurgery department a figure whispered of in hushed tones.