A professional title is just an empty label. When it comes to saving lives, titles mean nothing at all. So even though this Dr. Smith, like Dr. Sullivan, has “Attending Physician” and “Associate Professor at Anping Hospital” printed on his business card, in Ping Brooks’s mind, there’s a world of difference between the two.

Feeling a bit displeased, Dr. Smith was well aware of it. But the fact was, Andrew Sullivan was the top surgeon at Anping Hospital. The reality was right in front of him—even if he was unhappy, there was nothing he could do. “I’m on day shift today. Just come to me for anything.”

“Will Dr. Sullivan be back tonight?” Ping Brooks knew this question was a bit tactless, but for the sake of his son’s safety, he had to bite the bullet and ask.

Dr. Smith just nodded, grunted, and started walking toward the office. After a few steps, he suddenly remembered something. “The advance payment for medical expenses has run out. You’ll need to pay another ten thousand today, or we’ll have to stop the medication.”

“No, you can’t stop, you can’t stop.” Helen Carter, who had been silent and upset that her son didn’t recognize his biological mother, immediately reacted when she heard about stopping the medication. Even though her son didn’t acknowledge her, in her heart, Ethan would always be her precious boy. “We’re not short on money. No matter how much it is, we’ll find a way. We’ve just been too busy these days and forgot to pay. Don’t worry, I’ll pay it right away.”

Dr. Smith felt a bit emotional, and any trace of displeasure was thrown to the back of his mind. He calculated that since this patient was being co-managed by himself and Dr. Sullivan, it looked like he’d be getting a decent bonus this quarter. Andrew Sullivan was actually a good guy—he never forgot his colleagues when there were benefits to share. If it weren’t for him performing so many difficult surgeries over the years, Dr. Smith wouldn’t have gotten those big year-end bonuses.

Making things hard for the patient’s family was just making things hard for his own wallet. Thinking of this, he felt a bit more at ease.

“Dr. Smith.” A pleasant voice sounded in Dr. Smith’s ear, interrupting his wandering thoughts.

“What is it, Little Eric?” Dr. Smith’s tone softened. Standing before him was the delicate and lovely Nurse Foster, a true sight at Anping Hospital. Some patients came several times a year just to see Nurse Foster, not for treatment. But he knew his own limits—he didn’t have any real hope, so he was content just to look. It seemed Andrew Sullivan was interested in Nurse Foster. His medical skills might not be the best, but when it came to observing people, few could match him. He knew Nurse Foster didn’t have any special feelings for him, but even with his sharp eyes, he couldn’t tell if she had any particular fondness for Andrew Sullivan.

Of course, Nurse Foster had no idea that Dr. Smith was pondering her future marriage prospects. She simply said, “Should we continue the same medication for Ethan Brooks in the emergency care room today?”

“Dr. Sullivan instructed that these medications should be used for at least three days. Just prescribe them as usual today.”

Nurse Foster nodded slightly and walked toward the pharmacy. As she passed by Ping Brooks and his wife, she gave a small reassuring smile and said, “Aunt Carter, don’t worry. Your son will definitely get better.”

Helen Carter forced a smile. “Thank you, Nurse Foster.”

But Ping Brooks was thinking that he wouldn’t go home today—he had to wait until Dr. Sullivan arrived.

Suddenly, Helen Carter remembered something and exclaimed, “Oh right, Little Ethan is awake! He hasn’t eaten anything for two days. I’ll go home and make him some black-bone chicken soup to nourish him. Every time he comes back, he has to drink several bowls before he’s satisfied. I’ll go now, I’ll go now. Oh, and we need to get money. Ping, you go withdraw it. But if Little Ethan is awake, who will take care of him?” She just couldn’t bear to leave the hospital, afraid her son would wake up and not see her. She kept talking but didn’t move her feet, looking completely at a loss.

“Aunt Carter.” Nurse Foster called out.

“What is it, Nurse Foster?” Helen Carter replied absentmindedly.

“Your son has just regained consciousness. The glucose and vitamins in his medication are enough to meet his current nutritional needs.” She hesitated a moment. “Besides, his digestive system is still recovering. Even liquid food should wait a few more days, and he definitely shouldn’t eat anything greasy. So you don’t need to prepare any food for him these next few days.”

“Then what should I do now? Ping?”

“Just wait patiently.” Ping Brooks suddenly remembered they hadn’t paid yet. Hearing what Nurse Foster said, he thought, if they stop the medication, isn’t that like stopping Little Ethan’s food? “Let’s go withdraw the money and pay first, then—” He glanced at Dr. Smith, saw him walking farther away, and knew he couldn’t hear anymore. “Then we’ll call Dr. Sullivan and ask about the situation. Little Ethan, don’t worry. There’s a nurse taking care of you. We’ll go pay now, and maybe by the time we’re back, you’ll be awake.”

Helen Carter agreed and had no choice but to leave the hospital with her husband.

Watching Aunt Carter look back every few steps, Nurse Foster sighed inwardly. If only she had a mother like that. Thinking this, she actually felt a bit envious of Ethan Brooks in the ward. But the nurse on duty said Ethan Brooks had already woken up once, but was talking nonsense and shouting—probably frightened. But with such serious injuries, how could he be shouting? Most likely Little Thompson was exaggerating. Thinking this, she no longer envied Ethan Brooks, and instead felt a bit sorry for him. Without further hesitation, she hurried toward the pharmacy.