This wasn't because Du Heng had just confronted Wu Buwei, nor was he trying to slight the other doctor. Rather, Du Heng was angry because, after the examination, he found that this doctor's diagnosis for the patient was specious—the stated cause of illness was wrong, yet the doctor stubbornly refused to admit it.

Back in the office, Du Heng asked the young woman to sit across from him and softly inquired, "When did your father start to experience muscle spasms and bone pain?"

The young woman was somewhat nervous, her eyes darting around, especially towards the circle of doctors surrounding her. She was too anxious to speak.

Du Heng noticed her gaze and smiled gently at her. "Don't be nervous. These are all medical interns at our hospital. It's not that your father's condition is particularly severe; they're just here to observe and learn.

"Oh, let me introduce myself. My name is Du Heng. I'm the dean of the Municipal Maternal and Child Health Hospital and also the person in charge of the stroke treatment project.

"Um... you know about this stroke project, right?"

After listening to Du Heng's introduction, the girl relaxed slightly and nodded at him.

Du Heng continued to smile, softly asking, "When did your father start to feel unwell?"

The girl steadied herself and seemed to recall. "I'm not sure about the exact time, but according to my mother, after my father was dismissed from his factory, he became very quiet and would often sulk alone.

"Later, when I was in elementary school, my mother said he started to experience numbness in his hands and feet."

Du Heng's mouth twitched. He'd seen people make themselves ill with anger, but never someone who could bottle it up for so many years.

As he thought this, he pointed to his own throat. "When did your father start feeling like there was something stuck in his throat?"

The girl pondered for a moment before saying, "That would have been about three years ago. My dad fainted after a quarrel with another stallholder over a spot.

"When he woke up, his hand would occasionally twitch, and he often complained of bone pain. Also, that feeling in his throat only appeared around that time."

The girl's expression turned somewhat disgusted. "My mother always said it was because of my father's smoking, that phlegm had gotten stuck in his throat.

"Every time she heard that sticky, gurgling sound from his throat, my mother would feel nauseated and scold him to spit it out.

"But when he tried to spit out the phlegm and couldn't, it was even more disgusting for her."

Du Heng nodded gently. "Okay, I generally understand your father's situation. When you go back, try to talk more with your father. I can see he isn't very happy."

"He's always been like that. As far back as I can remember, he's never really smiled; he's always had that gloomy, downturned expression."

"Then you should talk more and try to cheer your father up. Maintaining a happy mood will also help his recovery."

The girl nodded. "Okay, I'll go back and try, but I don't know if it will work since he's had that expression for all these years."

After giving the girl a few more reminders, Du Heng let her leave.

Once the girl had left, his face darkened. His gaze didn't target anyone in particular, but everyone in the office instinctively held their breath.

Du Heng slowly turned his gaze, finally letting it rest on the doctor from the Provincial Hospital of Traditional Chinese Medicine. "May I ask your surname?"

"My surname is Shen. I'm the Chief Physician of Internal Chinese Medicine."

"Dr. Shen, you just heard the patient's daughter's account. Is there any difference from what you heard previously?"

Dr. Shen shook his head. "No difference at all."

"And you still insist that the patient's stroke was caused by wind-phlegm?"

"Isn't it?" Dr. Shen asked, his doubt evident.

Du Heng took a deep breath. "The patient is petty and tends to bottle up his anger. You should have gathered that, right?"

"I did," Dr. Shen replied. "So what? What does that have to do with his stroke?"

"Petty people are prone to anger, and this patient is someone who doesn't vent his anger but bottles it up inside," Du Heng said earnestly, emphasizing each word. "Anger is rage, and rage damages the liver. When liver qi cannot flow freely, it results in such an obvious case of liver qi stagnation and liver-wood not dredging syndrome. Now, what does that have to do with a stroke?"

Du Heng tapped the table forcefully with his finger. "Tell me, what does this have to do with a stroke?"

The THUMP, THUMP, THUMP of his finger on the table seemed to strike at everyone's heart. Each of them sat up straighter, their attention fixed on Du Heng.

Dr. Shen's heart skipped a beat, but his eyes showed more confusion. He didn't understand the point Du Heng was trying to make. Was he saying it wasn't a stroke, or that it wasn't a stroke caused by wind-phlegm?

Du Heng's eyes narrowed. "The liver belongs to Wood. Wood thrives on Water. Stagnation of Wood consumes Water. The more Water is consumed, the more difficult it is for Wood to flow smoothly. Therefore, the more severe the patient's Yin and stagnant qi becomes. Do you understand this?"

Dr. Shen nodded but still looked at Du Heng in confusion.

"And Wood overcomes Earth. Earth corresponds to the Spleen and Stomach. This, in turn, injures both the Spleen and Stomach. Furthermore, due to insufficient fluid, the Spleen becomes hot and the Stomach dry. Extreme heat then generates Wind. This is the origin of the patient's facial paralysis."

Du Heng glanced briefly at Dr. Shen, then addressed everyone. "This is a typical case of an internal Wind disease, not a stroke caused by wind-phlegm. If the pathogenesis isn't correctly identified, how can the patient possibly improve?"

Dr. Shen wanted to refute, but Du Heng's prestige in this field made him hesitant to challenge him. Besides, Du Heng's explanation had been very clear, and Dr. Shen couldn't find a reason to insist on his original diagnosis.

And Du Heng was no Wu Buwei; he couldn't simply be dismissed with a claim of 'insufficient qualifications.'

Although Du Heng sometimes felt his own qualifications were lacking, it really depended on who he was being compared to.

Du Heng paused for a moment, then turned to Wu Buwei. "What are you standing there for? Hurry up and revise the patient's treatment plan."

Wu Buwei glared coldly at Dr. Shen, then lowered his head and prepared to write.

"I've already explained to everyone why the patient is exhibiting stroke symptoms," Du Heng continued. "Therefore, the treatment method must be to tonify the Earth of the Spleen and Stomach.

"However, simply tonifying the qi of the Spleen and Stomach won't work, because Liver Wood overcomes Earth, meaning the Spleen and Stomach will still not function smoothly. Thus, the correct treatment method must be to soothe the Liver to support the Spleen and Stomach.

"The prescription includes white peony, poria, Chinese yam, raw jujube kernel..."

Wu Buwei quickly jotted down the notes and handed them to Du Heng.

After glancing at it, Du Heng handed it back to Wu Buwei and fixed him with a stare. "You are the de facto leader of this team. If you discover any problems, you must correct them promptly.

"Moreover, when you find a problem, address the problem directly. What's the use of arguing? Do you think this project team is a debate club?"

Wu Buwei felt terribly wronged. He hadn't expected to be the one reprimanded in the end.

But recalling his earlier exchange with Dr. Shen, he realized Du Heng's criticism wasn't unwarranted.

Seeing Wu Buwei lower his head, Du Heng said no more on that matter. Instead, he turned his gaze to Dr. Shen, who had remained silent.

"Dr. Shen, this is a treatment team. Our standard here is that proficiency makes one the teacher. Age and seniority are the least useful things in this group." Du Heng's voice was soft, but every word was distinct. "Dr. Wu is, indeed, only a junior-ranking doctor. However, he is the team leader I appointed, and I am confident in his abilities.

"If you disagree with his diagnosis, you can discuss it with him, or you can come and discuss it with me. I welcome such discussions.

"But if being led by a resident doctor makes you unhappy or uncomfortable, the door is right there. You are free to leave.

"We will not compel you to stay, nor will we force you to endure something you find unacceptable."

With that, Du Heng stood up and walked slowly towards the office door. "This is the first time, and I hope it is the last time I hear words like 'age' or 'seniority' being brought up.

"If you want to convince people, it's best to do so from your professional expertise, earning their conviction, rather than resorting to such unprofessional tactics.

"Here, what I need is unity, efficiency, and cure rates."

Watching Du Heng's slowly retreating figure, none of them—neither the doctors from the Municipal Maternal and Child Health Hospital nor the new trainees—dared to utter a word.