“Has this surgery been tested?” someone asked.
“Yes, it has. We’ve been watching the patients’ progress, and it appears to have an eighty percent success rate.”
“What happened to the other twenty percent?”
That was the more important subject versus the cases that succeeded.
“In ten percent, the appendix had already burst, causing peritonitis. We removed the appendix and tried to clean out as much of the filth as we could, but the condition ultimately claimed their lives. In the remaining ten percent, toxins entered via the surgical incision and caused infection, and the patient died without ever fully recovering.”
Twenty percent. Were those odds high, or low?
It’s not a very comforting number, that’s for sure. Yet at the same time, it was a far greater success rate than had been possible with the methods available before this.
“What do we do if the appendix isn’t the site of the problem?” asked a physician.
“We’ll just have to cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” Dr. Liu replied. It was as good as telling them that they had no time. Maomao continued to make her notes, trying to keep them as objective as possible.
Finally, there was an explanation of how treatment would be handled after the surgery. It mostly concerned antiseptic drugs and how to maintain hygiene so that nothing would become infected.
I guess our group doesn’t have much to offer His Majesty, Maomao thought. If they were working on the assumption that they were going to operate, then he was probably past the point of being cured with herbal medicine.
“Pardon me, but may I ask something? Just to be certain?” said the physician who had talked about anesthetics, raising his hand.
“Go ahead.”
“Who are we going to use the fruits of all this research on?”
It was a real question—but he was “just being certain.” Most likely, everyone in the room already knew the answer.
“It’s precisely the person that you’re all thinking of,” Dr. Liu said. He didn’t elaborate. Maomao didn’t know if that was the right choice, but the very fact that he chose not to showed just how uncertain the endeavor on which Dr. Liu was embarking was.
They were going to do surgery on the Emperor. Meaning they were going to give him drugs that could poison him if they made the slightest error, then cut open his abdomen with a knife, possibly cut out one of his internal organs—and even if the surgery succeeded, he would need meticulous attention after the procedure.
If everyone here were to be considered involved, it could gut the entire medical department.
Therefore, they had to keep specific knowledge of the surgery to the minimum number of people.
Dr. Liu, my dad, maybe a few others.
To fail would be to effectively sign their own death warrants. It was even possible that punishment could extend as far as the ninth degree of their family.
Which means I’d be killed too.
The freak strategist and Lahan would be caught up in it; there was nothing they could do about that, but she wondered if it might be possible to at least spare Lahan’s Brother somehow.
Of course, Maomao couldn’t picture Luomen, whom she respected so deeply, making such a mistake.
“I’m going to read off a list of names,” Dr. Liu said. “I want those people to stay here.”
He started reading. Every person whose name he called looked grim but resolved. Well, except one—Tianyu looked cool as a cucumber.
He’s got real skills...if nothing else, Maomao thought with a click of her tongue.
Dr. Liu had one more name to read. “Maomao.”
Hrk?!
Maomao jumped a little when she heard her name. She saw Short Senior leave the room, casting a worried glance in her direction. She knew how he felt: She sure hadn’t expected her name to be among those called. The drugs she had been making wouldn’t be much use after the surgery. She got up, staring openly around the room, and worked her way toward Dr. Liu. Tall Senior was still there too; his name must have been in there somewhere.
“You look like a woman who doesn’t know why she was on that list,” said Dr. Liu.
“Yes, sir,” Maomao replied.
“It’s simple. You’re Luomen’s blood relative. If they’re going to wipe out whole families, then better to bring you into the fold than someone else who otherwise wouldn’t be involved. Fewer victims that way.”
“I see, sir.”
It certainly was a logical enough reason.
“As a bonus, if anything happens, you’ll be an easy way to get Grand Commandant Kan involved. Luomen would be a good start for that, but a little insurance never hurt anyone.”
“I see, sir,” Maomao said, narrowing her eyes. They were probably hoping that, if the death penalty came for them, the freak strategist would kick and scream and go on a rampage and get the sentence vacated.
Dr. Liu always seemed to be one step ahead of her.
Maomao spent the next several days being told what the surgery would entail—but in keeping with the principle of a time and a place for everyone, her main job was going to be choosing and compounding the drugs they would use.
At Luomen’s instruction, she bought the finest herbs and put them to use with the utmost care. Practically speaking, she’d been inducted into the postsurgical care team. Tall Senior was part of the same group, but was also receiving instruction for how to assist during the surgery; they must have decided he would be useful in both circumstances.
Short Senior, meanwhile, was continuing the experiments with the drugs. Patients whose condition worsened would be given an anesthetic, receive surgery, and then their progress tracked.
The anesthetic was the biggest problem. The most effective anesthetics were also the most toxic. Hence, they decided to try to use something that might be less effective but was also not so deadly.
A patient who was still young and unused to pain would never be able to endure being cut open while still conscious. Dr. Liu seemed to have decided, however, that the Emperor would oblige them. It just went to show how chronic the ruler’s pain had been, and how much force of will it must have taken to make it appear as though the condition had no impact on his work.
Everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly...until a high official appeared and exclaimed, “Surgery?! Don’t be absurd!”