The superstar Shen Daoran, a First-Class National Actor, had won the titles of Best Actor in film and television a staggering eleven times.
When Yan Feifan was young, he had been a huge fan of a medical drama Shen Daoran had starred in.
Back then, his decision to apply to Binhai University Medical College had been influenced, at least in part, by that very show.
Feeling a little star-struck, Yan Feifan quickly ushered the group into his office, offered them seats, and busied himself with making tea.
Although Zhang Maoye had an unconventional appearance, he was perceptive and took over the task of preparing the tea.
Yan Feifan had a rare fanboy moment, asking Mr. Shen for his autograph and even getting a photo with him.
After these preliminaries, the group got down to business.
"Mr. Shen, about the blood clot in Qin Lang’s brain..."
Yan Feifan glanced at the man with the pinched features beside him, then turned his gaze back to Shen Daoran.
"What I described in the email is the best I can do at this time."
"I take my responsibility to every patient very seriously."
Shen Daoran said with a sincere expression, "Mr. Yan, please don’t misunderstand. I came here with them today, but I have absolutely no intention of pressuring you."
"To be honest, Mr. Yan, I’ve spent the last few days asking around about your medical skills and character."
"Mr. Yan, I’m truly impressed."
Shen Daoran solemnly clasped his hands in a gesture of respect toward Yan Feifan and continued, "You’ve also made me believe that super-geniuses truly exist in this world!"
After a brief pause, he said slowly, "Mr. Yan, I’ve come today to ask a favor of you."
Yan Feifan let out a soft "Oh?" and asked tentatively, "Mr. Shen, you’re not thinking of getting cosmetic surgery, are you?"
Shen Daoran chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. "I’m too old to be messing with my face."
At these words, Yan Feifan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
If Shen Daoran had really come to him for cosmetic surgery, it would have undoubtedly lowered his opinion of the man and shattered his image of his idol.
"Mr. Yan, I have a very good friend."
Shen Daoran went on to explain, "She has a daughter, sixteen years old this year, who was unfortunately in a car accident when she was nine."
"She also has a blood clot in her brain that never dissolved, and it’s severely affecting her vision. I was hoping you could take a look, Mr. Yan."
"Would it be..."
Shen Daoran saw that Yan Feifan hadn’t spoken, but had simply extended a hand.
He understood the gesture and quickly took the large manila envelope with the medical records from his assistant, handing it to Yan Feifan with both hands.
Then, Shen Daoran watched as Yan Feifan took out the medical records, various test reports, and imaging scans from the envelope, and looked through them one by one.
Soon after, he noticed that Yan Feifan was sitting completely still, as if his entire body had petrified into a statue.
Zhang Maoye, who had been standing quietly to the side, ready to assist, now leaned in to look at Yan Feifan, then turned and moved closer to Shen Daoran.
He lowered his voice and said, "Mr. Shen, please don’t be alarmed. This is..."
At that moment, Shen Daoran made a hushing gesture and gave him a look to indicate that he was already aware of this phenomenon.
This immersive thinking style of Yan Feifan’s, where he blocks out all external distractions, had been filmed by Yan Ziruo twice and posted on a short-video platform.
Netizens had nicknamed it "Feifan’s Contemplation."
Many professionals pointed out that this was actually a form of high-intensity thinking, equivalent to a computer’s CPU being overclocked.
Why was there no response to the outside world?
It was because the brain was dedicating all its processing power to a single task, leaving no capacity to attend to external stimuli.
This was, in fact, a very mentally taxing way of thinking.
They recommended that for the sake of his long-term health, Mr. Yan should use this method of thinking as little as possible...
Zhang Maoye returned to his original spot and stood still, trying not to make any extra noise that might disturb Yan Feifan’s concentration.
But the more he tried to stay quiet, the more a sudden tickle started to form in his throat.
It was agonizing for Zhang Maoye.
He could only try to hold it in, swallowing repeatedly in an attempt to suppress the sudden urge to cough.
But contrary to his wishes, the more Zhang Maoye suppressed it, the stronger the tickle-induced urge to cough became...
Fortunately, Yan Feifan didn’t make him suffer for long. After a minute or two, Yan Feifan stirred.
Yan Feifan placed the documents gently on the coffee table and said slowly, "There are two main blood clots pressing on the brain’s visual processing center, causing a narrowed field of vision and blurred sight."
"Puncturing and dissolving the clots is possible, but I can’t guarantee it will restore her vision."
Meeting Shen Daoran’s gaze, Yan Feifan explained, "After so many years, the damage to her visual cortex may be irreversible."
"During the puncture procedure, there is a risk of cerebral hemorrhage."
"There’s also the possibility of headaches or other unpredictable side effects..."
Yan Feifan then shifted his gaze to the largely ignored Qin Lang and warned gravely, "Modern medicine’s understanding of the brain is still quite superficial."