I Am Diagnosed as a Medical Titan

Following behind Wang Xiaoqing, Jiang He walked into the principal’s office.

Besides Principal Qian Suzhi, his counselor, Brother Sun, was also there.

"Jiang He? You’re here. Quick, have a seat."

Brother Sun pulled out a chair for him, his eyes filled with relief. "What did the doctor say about your leg? You didn’t break any bones, did you?"

Everyone he met asked him the same question. Jiang He was getting tired of answering.

He said, "I’m fine. It just needs to be immobilized for two weeks. Thanks for your concern, Brother Sun."

After speaking, he turned to look at Qian Suzhi.

The principal of Southern Medical University was true to his name—his expression was serious and unsmiling.

Qian Suzhi looked at Jiang He, his face stern. "The university is aware of what happened at Affiliated Hospital No. 1. The emergency hall, the red-tagged critical area, a zero percent mortality rate... Dean Chen told me on the phone that it was all thanks to you."

He paused, maintaining his cold expression. "You did an excellent job. Calm in a crisis, with exquisite medical skills. You brought honor to Southern Medical University, and you brought honor to the entire medical system. You are a role model for all the students at this school."

Hearing such high praise from a man with such a stony face created an almost endearing contrast.

Jiang He didn’t dare meet Qian Suzhi’s gaze.

Mainly because he always thought Qian Suzhi looked a bit like President Shan Chuan.

Uh... that bald president from *Gag Manga Biyori*. The guy who couldn’t sell his chocolates, slammed the stickers on the table, and was always ready to shout, "Are you kidding me?!"

In his past life, every time Jiang He listened to Qian Suzhi speak at a school-wide assembly...

...he felt like the principal was about to blurt out, ’Are you kidding me?!’ at any moment.

He took a deep breath.

Jiang He said, "Principal, you praise me too highly."

Brother Sun chuckled beside them. "Jiang He, you have no idea. For the past two days, the university’s phones have been ringing off the hook with thank-you calls from the families of the patients you saved in the emergency room. When the semester ends, I’m going to summarize every single detail and personally call your parents to share the good news!"

Hearing this, Qian Suzhi suddenly bent down and rummaged for something.

He pulled out a red silk banner and placed it on the desk.

The banner read: "Are you kidding me?!"... Er, wrong one. It actually said: "Miraculous Hands of a Divine Doctor, Bringing the Dead Back to Life—To Dr. Jiang He of Southern Medical University."

"This is from the family of one of the patients," Qian Suzhi said, his face expressionless.

Then, he pulled out another banner. "This is from the family of another patient."

He pulled out another. "This is from the family of another patient."

Qian Suzhi, completely devoid of emotion, repeated the line each time he produced a banner.

One pull, then another, and another.

He ended up pulling out more than a dozen banners.

He looked at the desk covered in banners, then turned to Jiang He with a deadpan expression. "So, what now? With so many banners, how about you carry them all out when you leave?"

Jiang He: "...Principal, how about you just pack them up and mail them to my hometown for me?"

"Sure!" Brother Sun said. "I’ll handle it. I’ll go to the post office and mail them for you! It’s the perfect opportunity to give your parents a call and tell them all about your heroic deeds at school."

Jiang He nodded, not refusing the offer.

He could already picture the scene in his mind:

More than a dozen banners arriving at his home. His parents would probably hang them all over the main hall, then spend the next six months parading through the neighboring towns to show them off.

But that was actually a good thing.

’Once they’ve gained enough face in front of relatives and neighbors, with the added glow of having a "divine doctor" for a son, they might actually listen when I try to get them to change their bad habits in the future.’

’Of course, banners alone won’t be enough to completely change my parents. I’ll have to wait until the New Year holiday, go back, and supervise them in person while having a long, serious talk.’

The thought of the New Year made Jiang He’s mind wander.

’If only I could solidify my relationship with Shen Yu before the New Year... It would be amazing to bring my wife home to meet the family then.’

’Doing the math, we’ll both be of legal marriage age next year.’

’Once we’re officially dating and our relationship develops naturally, our parents can pick a date to formally meet, and then we can start planning the wedding.’

’I can’t think about this anymore.’

Jiang He sighed to himself.

’—I really want to marry my wife.’

Qian Suzhi said, "Jiang He, I called you over not just for these banners, but also to discuss the upcoming competition."

"The South China Region finals are on October 30th, and they’ll be held right here at our university. High-ranking leaders from the provincial department and academicians from the Capital City will be attending."

"If you can achieve a good ranking in the finals this time, then combining that with your previous awards, the university will definitely give you its full support."

Jiang He nodded. "Principal, in that case, could the university grant me special permission to start my internship at Affiliated Hospital No. 1 early?"

"No problem."

Qian Suzhi’s agreement was exceptionally swift.

He opened a drawer and handed Jiang He a business card.

"I’ll handle the university’s regulations. From now on, if you need help with any administrative procedures, just call me directly at this number."

"Okay." Jiang He took the card.

Qian Suzhi asked one more question. "This competition is on an unprecedented scale. Experts from both within and outside the province will be coming. How confident are you, really?"

Jiang He replied without the slightest hesitation, speaking two calm words: "Ten points."

Qian Suzhi: "Out of how many?"

Jiang He: "?"

Qian Suzhi: "?"

Jiang He: "Ten points..."

"Good. Excellent."

Qian Suzhi remarked with his usual stern face, "Outstanding. Truly a rare and outstanding talent."

With that, Qian Suzhi turned to Wang Xiaoqing, who had been silent the whole time. "Professor Xiaoqing, he is truly a student worthy of you."

Wang Xiaoqing: "Huh?"

She quickly explained, "Principal Qian, you’re mistaken. Jiang He isn’t my student. In fact, for the research project I’m currently working on, I often have to ask Jiang He for guidance when I hit a theoretical bottleneck."

Qian Suzhi: "?"

Brother Sun: "?"

’Wait, a professor asks a student for guidance on a project? And says it so casually? Is that even right?’

Jiang He grabbed his crutch and stood up. "Principal, Brother Sun, Teacher Wang, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to my dorm to study."

...

Half an hour later, Jiang He returned to his dorm room.

The room was empty. Wang Bo was probably at the library writing, and Li Zijian had most likely gone off in search of a sugar mommy.

Jiang He pulled out his chair, sat down, and logged into Dingxiang Garden.

He first glanced at the flashing private messages in the top right corner and casually replied to a few.

Then he checked the post he’d made yesterday.

The discussion about the post was still raging.

There were supportive comments, but of course, there were also dissenters.

Among the dissenters were quite a few verified physicians.

Jiang He didn’t intend to get involved or provide some kind of "standard answer."

Cognitive breakthroughs in academia have always required constant clashes and questioning.

He had already pointed the way; he would leave it to the experts to run the remaining experiments and clinical verifications.

He logged on today intending to post something new.

’If Zhiyu is to truly cement his authority as a founding father in the domestic medical community, he can’t be limited to his own little corner of hepatobiliary surgery. He must demonstrate absolute dominance across disciplines.’

His experience in the emergency hall and ICU last night had given Jiang He the perfect entry point.

He recalled a medical misconception that was regarded as the gold standard by the global critical care community in 2008, only to be proven fatal a year later—

Intensive insulin therapy (strict glycemic control) for critically ill ICU patients.

In 2008, ICU doctors worldwide were following the famous single-center study from 2001 (Appendix 1).

The moment a critically ill patient showed signs of stress-induced hyperglycemia, they would immediately pump in large doses of insulin.

They would attempt to suppress the patient’s blood sugar to the so-called "normal range" of 4.4-6.1 mmol/L.

Everyone thought this was life-saving.

But they were ignoring the fact that under extreme stress, a critically ill patient’s body consumes an enormous amount of energy.

Moderate hyperglycemia is, in itself, a physiological self-protective mechanism.

Forcibly suppressing it could easily lead to irreversible brain damage or even cardiovascular failure.

Not until next year...

...would the results of an international multi-center randomized controlled trial involving over six thousand people (NICE-SUGAR) be published (Appendix 2).

Only then would the critical care community finally awaken and halt this murderous glycemic control protocol.

’Strike a snake where it’s most vulnerable.’

Jiang He was going to release this viewpoint ahead of time, on the Dingxiang Garden of 2008.

He moved the mouse and clicked "Create Post."

Title: [Critical Care Discussion: Should We Immediately Halt Strict Glycemic Control Protocols in the ICU?]

Body:

[Having recently reviewed numerous ICU clinical records, I have discovered an extremely dangerous and widespread phenomenon: the vast majority of our colleagues are still strictly implementing tight glycemic control (TGC) in critically ill patients, attempting to maintain blood glucose levels between 4.4-6.1 mmol/L.]

[The theoretical basis for this practice is none other than the 2001 single-center surgical ICU study, but we must clarify a core concept.]

[When a critically ill patient suffers severe stress such as trauma or infection, the body releases large amounts of catecholamines and glucocorticoids. The resulting stress-induced hyperglycemia is a self-protective mechanism to ensure an adequate glucose supply to vital organs like the heart and brain.]

[Blindly counteracting this physiological compensation by using large doses of insulin to forcibly lower blood sugar can easily induce severe hypoglycemic events (≤2.2 mmol/L). For ICU patients who are sedated or in a coma, this hypoglycemia is often hidden and fatal, leading to severe neurological damage and cardiac arrhythmias.]

[The harm of excessive intervention far outweighs the risks of moderate hyperglycemia.]

[I recommend immediately loosening the glycemic control target for critically ill patients, raising the target range to 7.8-10.0 mmol/L. Insulin therapy should only be initiated when blood glucose persistently exceeds 10.0 mmol/L.]

[I predict that if a large-scale, multi-center, randomized, double-blind controlled trial were conducted globally, the 90-day mortality rate of the strict glycemic control group would be significantly higher than that of the conventional control group.]

After typing the last word, Jiang He re-read it to check the logic.

’Looks fine.’

He clicked "Post."

The post successfully appeared on the front page of Dingxiang Garden’s critical care section.

’This move, you could say, was an early prediction of next year’s top journal articles.’

’When those articles are published, the boomerangs are going to be flying everywhere... ’

Jiang He closed the forum.

He had already accomplished a lot today, but he still couldn’t stop.

He planned to go through more literature to finalize the framework for the sub-project on the early prediction of severe acute pancreatitis (SAP) within his miRNA early screening project.

Since he had to produce preliminary results within a month, the core literature basis and experimental design had to be flawless.