A 17th-century French duke, Francois La Rochefoucauld, once said, "The sun and death can’t be looked at directly."
Life and death—those are heavy topics for anyone, but for doctors, they're unavoidable. Standing at the crossroads of life and death, you either learn to face mortality or get overwhelmed by it. It’s almost like a rite of passage for every medical professional.
Let’s be real, death is scary. Many young doctors either crumble under that pressure or simply walk away from the field.
But Evan Fisher? He leans more toward what Sir William Osler, co-founder of Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, believed: “Medicine is a science of uncertainty and an art of probability.”
As a med student raised around traditional Chinese medicine, Evan's mindset was fairly upbeat. And that optimism? Well, part of it came from a secret—something he couldn’t exactly share with anyone.
Today marked the start of their hospital internship. Evan and a group of fellow interns were heading to Jiangzhou Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, the top TCM hospital in the central region of China.Led by the supervisor, the group stepped into the hospital. Almost immediately, heads began turning—people were clearly curious. Everyone had heard about Jingzhou Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital before; some had even visited. But showing up today not just as guests, but as interns? That was a different story. With that new identity came a whole new mindset.
Evan Fisher followed along with the others, all while mentally arguing with something—or rather, someone—in his head. Yep, the "system." His little secret.
He’d gained the so-called “Great Healer Development System” a week ago out of nowhere, and it had taken him several days just to confirm he wasn’t imagining things. Once he accepted there was actually something weird living in his head, the next step was figuring out what to do about it.
I mean, as someone studying medicine, the last thing he wanted was to get locked up for sounding delusional.
According to the system, it could exchange admiration points for any traditional medical skill. And how were admiration points earned? By making others admire, envy, or even be jealous of him—all of which counted toward the total.
And as the system itself bluntly put it: “True masters in medicine are admired by thousands. If no one’s jealous of you, you’re probably average.”
Once Evan got a handle on how it worked, he decided to rename the whole thing in his head: the “Show-Off System.”
Because clearly, piling up admiration points meant strutting your stuff all the time. As someone who usually kept things low-key and saw himself as a modest, quietly confident guy, the idea of constantly flexing was… exhausting.
And right on cue, the familiar voice popped up in his head:
“Temporary Basic Visual Diagnosis Skill, cost: 30 admiration points…”"Temporary Intermediate Pulse Observation Skill – 100 admiration points..."
"Temporary Advanced Pulse Observation Skill – 1,000 admiration points..."
"Temporary Master Pulse Observation Skill – 10,000 admiration points..."
"...Permanent Basic Pulse Observation Skill – 50,000 admiration points..."
Looking at the skill list in the system, Evan Fisher couldn't help but feel the pressure. Every skill here was straight out of authentic traditional Chinese medicine—pulse diagnosis, pulse reading, acupuncture, bone-setting, massage, prescriptions... All meticulously categorized, each with its corresponding admiration points cost. Temporary skills came with an expiration date—once time's up, it's gone. Permanent ones? Those were truly his.
In simpler terms, if he could redeem a Master-level Pulse Observation Skill, he’d instantly have the diagnostic instincts of a top-tier traditional physician. Just by looking, he could tell if someone had an illness—or maybe even if someone was pregnant.
But the harsh truth was, even the most basic permanent skill needed 50,000 admiration points. Since getting the system, Evan had only gathered 180. He was still far from hitting thousands, let alone tens of thousands. The road ahead? Long. Very, very long."This hospital only has eight departments? That’s it? Isn’t it too small for such a big hospital?" Evan Fisher was scrolling through the categories in his system, trying to figure out which skill to unlock first once he had enough admiration points, when someone next to him voiced their doubt.
A golden chance to show off just popped up…
Grinning, Evan glanced up and said, “It’s okay not to know stuff, but don’t speak up unless you’re sure. Want to tell if a TCM hospital is legit? Look at its departments. The fewer they have, the more authentic they usually are. Those places with dozens of hyper-specific departments? Most likely they're just pretending—equipment-wise, they’re almost the same as Western hospitals.”
Someone nearby asked, “But why is that?”
Evan rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You’ve been in med school all these years for nothing? Traditional Chinese Medicine is all about the internal balance of organs, meridians, and qi. We diagnose through observation, listening, questioning, and taking the pulse. So if a TCM hospital splits things into neurology, digestive, cardiology, and hematology—what’s the point of calling it TCM anymore?”
That got everyone thinking. Yeah, made sense. TCM doctors fundamentally operate differently from Western doctors. Where Western medicine relies heavily on diagnostic machines and lab reports, TCM draws from natural observation and holistic judgement. Different systems, different logic.If you really split departments that much, then imagine this—someone walks in with a stomachache, the doc feels their pulse and goes, "Oh, that’s not your stomach, it’s your liver causing trouble. Go to Hepatology." So they go there, and that doctor says, "Hmm, seems like your blood and energy are low. Maybe try Hematology?" Isn’t that just ridiculous?
In a real traditional Chinese medicine
TCM
hospital, if you split departments like that, you’d be setting yourself up for failure. You walk into some so-called TCM hospitals nowadays, and you'd think you’re in a Western hospital—IV drips, machines, the whole setup. They just toss in a few herbal prescriptions to make it look "authentic." That’s not TCM, that’s pretending.
Most so-called Chinese medicine hospitals slap on the “integrated Chinese-Western medicine” label now. That way when you get plugged into an IV, at least you can’t really complain, right? But if an actual TCM hospital pulls that trick… well, that’s just laughable.
Jiangzhou TCM Hospital, though—that one’s legit. They only have eight departments: Internal Medicine, Orthopedics, Pediatrics, OBGYN, Acupuncture & Massage, Wellness & Rehab, Surgery, and Emergency.
They don’t have overly complicated sub-departments. What you see in the outpatient and inpatient areas—that’s all of it. Just those eight.
To someone not in the know, it might seem like this hospital’s not that professional. But for those who understand the field, one look and you'd realize—this place is the real deal.
"Wow, this guy knows a ton!" a girl blinked at Evan Fisher, clearly impressed.
“Ding…”
Right then, a beep echoed in Evan’s mind: “Admiration points +5…”“Only five points?” Evan Fisher curled his lips, clearly unimpressed. Turns out flexing in front of this group of interns wasn’t gonna be that easy. Damn this... No wait, bless this Great Doctor Training System.
Of course, where there’s admiration, there’s also annoyance. Someone finally realized—did Evan just call them idiots?
“Which school are you from?”
“Linzhou College of Traditional Chinese Medicine!”
“Linzhou?”
The guy scoffed right away. Linzhou? Never even heard of it. And this guy had the nerve to act all high and mighty in front of students from Jiangzhou Medical University?
While people were still giving Evan side-eyes, the hospital’s staff member in charge of receiving them showed up. It was Craig Harvey, deputy director of the hospital’s Medical Education Department.
This department isn’t just some side office—it’s a core part of the hospital. Internally, it handles everything from forming clinical department rules to developing departments and overseeing doctor training and title evaluations. Externally, it deals with patient complaints and coordinates with outside institutions. In short, it's a powerhouse.
And as Deputy Director, Craig Harvey definitely held real authority. Nobody dared offend someone like him—not just because of future title reviews, but even their internship scores had to go through his department. One bad impression? Yeah... good luck.The mentors from each school quickly stepped up to shake hands with Carlisle Reynolds. After exchanging a few formalities, they followed him as he led everyone to the main conference room.
As soon as they entered, Carlisle got straight to the point. “Landing an internship here is a big deal. Jiangzhou Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital is one of the top TCM hospitals in the country. But let me be blunt—whether you stay or not depends entirely on your abilities. There are over twenty of you, but I’d say only three to five might make it through. Maybe even fewer.”
That sent a wave of gasps through the group. Everyone knew the bar was high, but this was brutal. Keeping only a handful out of so many? The elimination rate was intense.
Carlisle went on, “Of course, nothing is set in stone. If you all perform well and show potential worth cultivating, it's not impossible for all of you to stay. But if no one stands out, then none of you will be kept. That’s just how it is.”
The room fell into focused silence. Everyone understood how valuable this opportunity was. With few jobs in the TCM field lately, getting into Jiangzhou Hospital was like striking gold—no one wanted to be the one who lost out.
“We’re not looking for dead weight,” Carlisle added. “We need people with real skills. So I hope you all make the most of this internship. Show what you're capable of. Don’t end this with regrets about never having stepped up when it counted.”Although Carlisle Reynolds’s words were blunt, they hit the mark. Everyone here was a top student in the class—sharp minds with plenty of pride. On the first day, he didn’t hold back, giving them a bit of a wake-up call and also making it clear that they’d have the chance to prove themselves.
After a brief opening speech, Reynolds scanned the group until his eyes landed on Evan Fisher. “What’s your name?”
The room immediately perked up. Out of so many people, why was Reynolds calling him out specifically? Had they met before?
“Evan Fisher,” Evan answered without hesitation.
Reynolds nodded slightly. “What you said earlier by the outpatient building—good insight. Hopefully, you’ll keep that up during the internship.”
Turns out, while Evan and the others were chatting casually earlier, Reynolds had already arrived and overheard everything, although he hadn’t shown himself at the time.
He didn’t speak more after that. Just gave a small wave and said, “Alright, since it’s your first day, I won’t give you anything heavy. For now, just get to know the hospital. Be back here by 8 a.m. tomorrow for orientation. After that, we’ll assign you to your departments.”As soon as Carlisle Reynolds finished speaking, he strode right out of the conference room without pausing for a second. The moment he left, the room broke into murmurs. A bunch of the interns couldn’t help feeling a bit envious of Evan Fisher. Some of the more informed students even felt a little regret—why hadn't they explained things earlier? Now Evan had all the spotlight.
Don't be fooled, Carlisle may have just asked Evan's name, but out of all the people there, he remembered him. That alone was already a huge advantage.
“Ding... Gained 18 Admiration Points...”
Evan smiled with satisfaction. Earning admiration was tough. But sparking envy or jealousy? That might actually be a whole lot easier...