The Trainee Doctor

I suddenly snapped my eyes open; the sharp smell of disinfectant hit my nose, so familiar it made my chest tighten. This isn't the hospital rooftop—it's the neurosurgery doctor's office. The desk calendar was stuck on July 15th, the bright red numbers stabbing at my eyes. There are exactly thirty days left until that brain tumor resection surgery that nearly destroyed me. Memories from my past life suddenly flooded my mind—the patient's blood on the operating table, the family member's anguished screams, Caleb Green's cold indifference as he shielded Ruby White, and the wind howling in my ears as I jumped off the rooftop. That kind of hopeless despair, like my heart had turned to ashes—I never want to experience it again. Light footsteps came from the door, and a girl with twin ponytails stuck her head in, holding a cup of hot coffee. "Hello Dr. Scott! I'm the new resident, Ruby White. I look forward to working with you!" Her smile was innocent and harmless, her eyes glistening like a fawn's—just like when I first met her in my past life. But I knew what kind of foolishness and malice were hidden behind that smile. I stared at the coffee in her hand, my fingertips growing uncontrollably cold. In my previous life, it was because I accepted that cup of coffee and grew a little fond of her that I slowly fell into the trap set by her and Caleb Green. "Dr. Scott? What's wrong?" Ruby White saw I wasn't responding, so she hesitantly offered the coffee, her voice carrying a timid dependence, "Is the coffee not to your liking? Should I get you another cup?" "Who told you to come to neurosurgery?" I finally spoke, my voice cold as ice. Neurosurgery deals with the brain; being off by a millimeter means two lives lost. I absolutely can't let her ruin others here, and ruin me with them. Ruby White froze for a moment, blinking her big eyes, and instinctively said the name: "It was Director Green!" "Director Green said you're the top attending physician in the department. Training under you means actually learning real skills. He even specially asked the Hospital Director so I could study with you!" The words "Director Green" stabbed into my heart like a needle. Caleb Green, my husband and deputy director of neurosurgery—he was the one in my past life who repeatedly covered for Ruby White and ultimately pushed me into the abyss. No sooner had the words left my mouth than the office door was pushed open. Caleb Green walked in, his white coat still faintly stained with iodine, looking like he'd just come from the operating room. He saw Ruby White and me standing together, frowned, and said in a firm, no-argument tone, "Quinn, Ruby was recommended by the Hospital Director. Make sure you take good care of her." "Don't throw a tantrum. You still need my signature on your promotion paperwork. Don't mess up your own future." Same as always—threatening me with the title evaluation. In my last life, it was because I couldn't let go of years of hard work, compromising time after time, that I ended up losing my license—and almost my life. I pulled my phone out of the white coat pocket; the screen was lit, and the number for the Health Commission's Inspection Department was clearly visible in my contacts. The very first thing I did after being reborn was to save all the phone numbers that could protect my rights. I actually want to ask—can a resident use connections to pick their teaching supervisor? Is that even allowed? I opened the dialer, eyes locked on Caleb Green. "Why don't we call the Health Commission right now and let them sort this out?" Ruby White's face instantly went pale. She quickly grabbed Caleb Green's sleeve, her voice trembling with tears: "Director Green, please, let it go! Dr. Scott might just be in a bad mood today, I... I can work in another department..." She looked so pitiful, just like in my past life, always using tears to win sympathy. Caleb Green was clearly shaken by her, but the rage in his eyes as he glared at me was undeniable: "Quinn Scott, don't be shameless! This is the hospital's arrangement, not your personal whim!" "The hospital's arrangement?" I sneered, putting away my phone. "The hospital's arrangement is to shove a resident who can't even identify all the instruments into the high-stakes field of neurosurgery?" "Caleb Green, did you forget what happened two months ago, when a resident's blunder caused an infection after surgery? You want to repeat that mess?"