The gallbladder was completely dissected and removed. He placed it into the specimen bag and extracted it through a trocar. The gallbladder fossa was clean, with no active bleeding and no bile leakage. He irrigated the surgical field, confirmed that all maneuvers caused no collateral damage, and then began to close the abdomen, suturing the trocar holes, the subcutaneous tissue, and the skin.

The entire process took over two hours and felt awkward and clumsy.

When Zhaxi put down the instruments, he realized his back was already soaked. The surgical gown clung to his skin, chilly. His fingers trembled slightly, not from nervousness, but as a physiological reaction after intense concentration. He glanced at the last image of the surgical field left on the screen, which was quite satisfactory.

Yang Ping walked over, stood next to him, and looked at the screen. He didn’t speak, but Zhaxi could feel his gaze scrutinizing every detail, the length of incisions, the position of trocars, the layers of separation, the precision of clamping, the neatness of suturing.

"For a first time, not bad, surgery is about practice makes perfect," Yang Ping finally spoke, his tone still flat. "But there are a few areas that need improvement. First, the exposure of Calot’s triangle was not sufficient; you spent too long searching for the branches of the cystic artery, and this time would be longer if you encountered more complex anatomical variations. Second, the angle of the electrocautery was problematic; twice you used the side of the cautery to dissect, which easily damages surrounding tissue. You must use the tip, like using a pen tip. Third, when suturing the trocar hole, the alignment of the subcutaneous tissue was not neat; the stability of your left hand holding the needle needs strengthening. Review every surgery; this is how you improve."

As Zhaxi listened, he remembered each word deeply in his mind. He knew these weren’t criticisms but refinements, like a blacksmith placing a hot piece of iron on an anvil and hammering it, driving out impurities and shaping it. The process is painful, but the result is hard.

"Tomorrow, train in the training room; the day after, come here to continue the animal simulation surgery," Yang Ping said as he removed his mask. "Tomorrow, perform a gastroenterostomy."

...

Over the following days, Zhaxi alternated his practice every afternoon between the Animal Experiment Department and the Institute’s training room.

In the animal department, he performed laparoscopic cholecystectomy, laparoscopic gastroenterostomy, laparoscopic splenectomy, and laparoscopic nephrectomy. He practiced each procedure repeatedly until Yang Ping said, "That’s enough," and then he moved on to the next one. His fingers became increasingly steady, his field of vision increasingly precise, and his instrument operation increasingly fluent. He began to anticipate the rhythm of surgery, knowing when to speed up, slow down, pause to confirm anatomical structures, or when to complete operations in one go.

But he also gradually realized that surgery is not just about technique.

Once, while performing a laparoscopic gastroenterostomy, he realized on the third stitch that there was tension at the anastomosis site; the distance between the stomach and intestines was greater than he had anticipated. Continuing the stitching would pull the anastomosis too tight, likely causing leakage post-surgery. He paused his stitching, hesitated, then released all the sutures, re-mobilized the gastric and intestinal mesentery to allow them to approximate without tension, and started suturing again.

Yang Ping stood by, not saying a word. After the surgery, he simply said, "This time, your judgment was more valuable than your technique."

Zhaxi suddenly understood that the judgment exercised on the operating table is not innate but is slowly tempered through each hesitation, trial and error, and correction. Each moment of hesitation trains the brain to perceive risk; each correction strengthens reverence for mistakes.

Another time, while dissecting Calot’s triangle, the electrocautery contacted an aberrant small artery, causing it to rupture and blood to gush out, instantly obscuring the visual field. The monitor turned a sheer red, and nothing could be seen. Zhaxi’s hand froze mid-air; this was his greatest fear in live surgery, the "red-out" scenario, and it finally hit him in an animal trial.

He heard Yang Ping’s voice as calm as a still lake: "Suction, locate the bleeding point, don’t panic."

Zhaxi took a deep breath, picked up the suction device with his left hand, and began suction in the bleeding area. The red blood was drawn away, and the visual gradually cleared. The ruptured small artery was still oozing, but the bleeding had significantly reduced. He picked up the electrocautery and precisely clamped the severed end of the vessel to stop the bleeding. After a few seconds, the bleeding completely ceased. He continued the surgery, completely removing the gallbladder, and the operative field returned to its pristine state.

After the surgery, he stood at the washbasin, looking at himself in the mirror. His face was somewhat pale, with beads of sweat still drying on his forehead. His hands no longer trembled, but his heartbeat was still rapid. He realized those few seconds were the most critical step from the simulator to the real operating table, not because the technical difficulty was high, but because under pressure, he didn’t collapse—he remained calm, and that’s "battlefield" experience.

Yang Ping walked beside him, turned on the faucet, and washed his hands. The sound of running water splashing against his fingers was audible.

"Do you know why there was bleeding just now?" Yang Ping asked.

"The angle of the electrocautery was incorrect; I underestimated the diameter of that vessel."

"What else?"

Zhaxi thought for a moment: "I didn’t fully verify all the vessels’ paths before severing, missing that aberrant artery."

Yang Ping turned off the faucet, took two paper towels, and dried his hands. "The silicon models in the simulator don’t have variations, bleeding, or unexpected scenarios. But in real-life surgery, that’s not the case. With real human bodies, every cut can reveal unforeseen conditions. What you can do is not memorize all variations—that’s impossible—but learn not to panic when the unexpected occurs."

He tossed the paper towels into the bin, turned to look at Zhaxi, his eyes as calm as an alpine lake, deep yet clear.

"Today, you achieved that."

Zhaxi stood still, watching Yang Ping’s retreating back, the hem of the white gown gently swaying with his steps.

He lowered his head, looking at his hands, learning to find calm amid chaos, and order amid surprises.

One afternoon, Zhaxi completed another surgery in the animal experiment department—a laparoscopic distal pancreatectomy, one of the most complex laparoscopic procedures, requiring detachment of the pancreas, management of splenic arteries and veins, and complete resection of the pancreatic tail. It took him an hour and a half, almost twice longer than Yang Ping, but during surgery, there were no complications, and the postoperative wound was clean enough for educational demonstration photos.

After examining the operative field, Yang Ping took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Do you feel it yourself? The intertwining of foundational training and simulated surgery fosters rapid progress, applying foundational skills directly to surgeries, directing foundational skill refinement through surgical feedback." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"Yes, when I first started simulated surgery, I was terrified, forcing myself to proceed. Gradually, I’m no longer afraid and know how to proceed," Zhaxi expressed his insights.

"However," Yang Ping’s tone suddenly turned serious, "human surgeries and animal experiments are different. In animal experiments, you face a healthy pig, with clear anatomical structures, no inflammation, no adhesions, and no underlying diseases. But in human surgeries, you deal with real patients who might have diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, previous abdominal operations, severe intraperitoneal adhesions, or anatomically altered structures due to chronic inflammation. Animal experiments can’t teach you that."

Zhaxi nodded, understanding Yang Ping’s point. Animal experiments could hone technical skills but cannot provide a surgeon with an all-encompassing understanding of diseases. True experience is accumulated with every real patient, every surgery, every complication, and every late-night ward round.

"Therefore," Yang Ping patted his shoulder, "starting tomorrow, you’ll assist me on the operating table as my first assistant, and once you’ve assisted enough surgeries, you’ll perform as the chief surgeon."

He spoke with a light tone, as if arranging a routine task. But Zhaxi knew, allowing him to be the chief surgeon, if he encountered issues on the operating table, the responsibility wasn’t his to bear but Professor Yang’s—the one standing behind him, teaching him every move, reassuring him when he hesitated by saying "don’t panic."

Zhaxi suddenly felt his eyes warm, lowering his head, not wanting Yang Ping to notice.

"Professor Yang," he said, his voice somewhat hoarse, "I will do my best."