At this very moment, the patient's abdominal cavity was already filled with a large amount of blood.
Before Cao Chong could even speak, Fang Zhiyan, standing beside him, had already picked up the suction device on his own initiative and began clearing the accumulated blood and clots.
Cao Chong shot him a surprised glance.
For a moment, he even had the illusion that Fang Zhiyan was more familiar with this surgery than he was—perhaps even capable of performing it more flawlessly.
But how was that possible?
This kid was still so young. Could he really possess such skill?
It sounded like something straight out of Arabian Nights!
Fang Zhiyan remained silent, simply focusing on his tasks.
Clearing the blood was only part of the job. Simultaneously, they needed to locate and assess the extent of the liver damage.
Cao Chong scanned the area, his expression tightening slightly.
"Not good. The spleen rupture is too extensive, and the bleeding is severe."
Fang Zhiyan quickly processed the information about the patient's spleen and used the suction device to extract approximately 1,000 milliliters of non-coagulating blood.
At the same time, the anesthesiologist monitoring the vitals suddenly stood up.
"Dr. Cao, the patient's blood pressure is dropping!"
Cao Chong nodded calmly, issuing instructions in an orderly manner. "Start a blood transfusion."
"Administer large-volume fluid resuscitation—crystalloids first, then colloids, alternating between them. Monitor urine output and supplement potassium as needed."
"Zhiyan, keep a close watch."
"Understood." Fang Zhiyan nodded, his expression grave.
Though he had been a master surgeon in his past life, that didn't mean he could save every patient.
Facing such a critical situation, the only thing he could do was to draw upon all his knowledge and calmly perform his duties to the best of his ability.
Gripping the suction device tightly, he meticulously searched for the source of the bleeding.
"Blood pressure is still unstable!" the anesthesiologist called out.
A layer of cold sweat formed on Cao Chong's forehead.
His eyes remained fixed on the surgical field, but he couldn't immediately locate the ruptured tissue. That meant they had to take another approach.
Without hesitation, Cao Chong made a decisive call. "Zhiyan, you find the bleeding point. I'll clamp the artery and portal vein."
In cases of acute massive hemorrhage, the only option was to temporarily halt the blood supply.
Only then could they buy enough time for subsequent procedures.
Following Cao Chong's actions, the supplying artery was quickly clamped, and the bleeding temporarily ceased.
"It's working!" the anesthesiologist exclaimed.
Cao Chong nodded and turned to Fang Zhiyan.
"Take over for me."
"Do you know how to proceed?"
"Release the clamp every fifteen minutes to restore blood flow for a short period before reclamping," Fang Zhiyan answered swiftly.
Hearing this, Cao Chong felt a surge of relief.
In such a tense moment, Fang Zhiyan's ability to grasp his intentions precisely gave him confidence.
He handed over his position to Fang Zhiyan and began examining the spleen for the source of the bleeding.
Additionally, once located, they would need to excise the necrotic splenic tissue, debride the area, and establish drainage—a complex process.
"Found it. Proceeding with splenic rupture repair now."
Cao Chong gave a brief update before continuing his work.
Fang Zhiyan, meanwhile, quietly carried out his assigned tasks.
At this stage of the surgery, the most crucial elements were calmness, patience, and methodical precision.
As long as everyone performed their roles flawlessly, the operation would proceed smoothly.
"Monitor the blood pressure."
"I'm starting sutures now. The patient's blood pressure may drop again."
Cao Chong gave a quick explanation before continuing.
The intermittent beeps from the monitoring equipment kept everyone on edge.
Fang Zhiyan alternated between clamping the vessels and suctioning blood to maintain a clear surgical field.
"Number seven suture."
Cao Chong's voice cut through the tension.
The scrub nurse swiftly handed him the suture.
As he worked, Cao Chong glanced at Fang Zhiyan and asked casually, "Do you know why we're using number seven?"
Fang Zhiyan nodded. "Given the extent of the trauma, number seven allows for interrupted sutures."
"Mm."
Cao Chong gave an approving nod.
Fang Zhiyan was truly sharp.
He didn't need lengthy explanations—just a brief hint, and the young man grasped his meaning instantly.
A student like this was truly satisfying.
Cao Chong's hands never slowed.
Under normal circumstances, they would have been past the most critical phase by now.
But just then, the anesthesiologist suddenly called out again, "What's going on? The patient's blood pressure is dropping again!"
The moment the words left his mouth, everyone turned toward the cardiac monitor.
The readings confirmed the drop, furrowing brows all around.
Fang Zhiyan spoke up immediately. "It's not from my side."
Cao Chong instinctively checked—Fang Zhiyan was maintaining the clamp correctly.
So why was the blood pressure falling?
"Continue fluid resuscitation. Stabilize it!" Cao Chong ordered.
The anesthesiologist nodded. "Already administering."
"Run a blood gas analysis."
Cao Chong's command was met without hesitation, and the results were soon placed before him.
No abnormalities.
Then where was the problem?
The tension in the room thickened as uncertainty settled over them.
At that moment, a thought flickered in Fang Zhiyan's mind.
"Could there be another bleeding point?"
"Is there hemorrhage above the clamp?"
With that in mind, he slowly extended his hand.
He possessed a perfect-level mastery of barehanded hemostasis—something others might find unbelievable.
But for Fang Zhiyan, it often yielded miraculous results.
His fingers traced along the hepatic artery above the clamp before applying gentle pressure.
In the next second, the patient's blood pressure surged upward.
The change was so rapid it almost seemed like an illusion.
Cao Chong's expression stiffened as he swiftly turned back to the surgical field, his gaze locking onto Fang Zhiyan's hand.
Fang Zhiyan was compressing the artery with his bare fingers.
And it was this very action that had stabilized the blood pressure.
Cao Chong was stunned.
"Wait—what?"
The anesthesiologist was equally baffled. "Is this… correct?"
A resident performing barehanded hemostasis?
Was this madness?
And yet—it was working!
Cao Chong's disbelief was palpable.
He suddenly recalled Director He mentioning, before Fang Zhiyan had even joined the hospital, that this guy knew barehanded hemostasis.
Who would have thought he'd witness it firsthand now?
"Don't move. Keep holding it. I'll proceed with the splenic repair."
Cao Chong quickly refocused.
Fang Zhiyan nodded silently, offering no unnecessary words.
The two fell into seamless coordination—one repairing, the other stemming the bleed.
Maintaining this position for an extended period would be exhausting.
But right now, they were on the operating table, fighting for a life.
What did fatigue matter?