372-374

Chapter 372: Adam, the Iron-Willed 

Medical Center. Outpatient Ward. 

“Dr. Duncan, come over here!”  

Elizabeth was really into it. “Is there something wrong with my heart? Why aren’t you coming over to listen?”  

“Dr. Plimpton, please put your clothes back on,” Adam said, swallowing a flood of mental commentary. He turned slightly, his face serious. “I don’t know what Leonard told you, but I’m not the kind of guy you’re imagining.”  

“I know you’re a proper gentleman!”  

Elizabeth’s grin was practically spilling over. She stepped forward, reaching for his hand, trying to force him into giving her a stethoscope check-up.  

“You’re the doctor—I’ll do whatever you say!”  

“…”  

Adam’s mouth twitched. He dodged her hand, locked eyes with her, and said firmly, “I’m serious—this isn’t some cosplay game!”  

Elizabeth froze, then studied him closely. It sank in—she’d gotten the wrong idea.  

“Sorry about that,” she said, quickly slipping her clothes back on, her face apologetic. “Leonard told me… I thought you were, like, my kindred spirit or something…”  

“It’s all Leonard’s fault,” Adam said with a wry smile. “He’s got a thing for you, so he probably exaggerated a bit. You get it, right?”  

“Yeah, I get it,” Elizabeth said with a nod, though a flicker of disappointment lingered in her eyes.  

Clingy and desperate?  

Come on, no way!  

Sure, she loved diving into Fifty Shades-level cosplay games, but she was still a brilliant, accomplished scientist.  

That stuff was just a hobby—not her whole life.  

So, seeing Adam’s no-nonsense vibe, she bounced back fast.  

“I’m good now,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for the ‘treatment,’ Dr. Duncan.”  

“No problem,” Adam replied, genuinely impressed by how she handled it.  

Elizabeth left.  

The nurses nearby shot Adam looks of pure admiration.  

Everyone said Dr. Duncan was a flirt.  

But here was this classy, gorgeous woman—practically throwing herself at him with obvious intentions—and Dr. Duncan stayed cool as a cucumber, solid as a rock.  

Wasn’t he basically the poster boy for a good guy?  

Next time someone tried to trash-talk their Dr. Duncan as a player, they weren’t letting it slide.  

Adam didn’t pay much attention to their stares.  

At a corner of the hospital hallway, there was a little cart selling food and drinks for the staff.  

Doctors swung by now and then to refuel.  

As Adam passed, he spotted George, Cristina, and Meredith huddled around it, munching on bread and sipping coffee.  

“Adam, grab something to eat!” George called out, all enthusiastic.  

Adam glanced at the cart. No fancy braised pork knuckles or anything tempting—just basic stuff. He shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Not hungry.”  

Cristina and the others ate while dishing out gossip.  

Adam, as usual, hung back and listened. It was a good way to pick up on new cases and stay in the loop about hospital buzz.  

But today, he was a little distracted.  

Couldn’t help it!  

Ever since leveling up to super-genius status, that high-def, photographic memory he’d “borrowed” from Sheldon had fully kicked in.  

It was a huge boost for studying and work, sure, but it came with some side effects.  

Like right now—his mind kept replaying crystal-clear images of Elizabeth from earlier, and they wouldn’t quit.  

“She’s a pro cosplay player, alright,” he thought to himself. “Coming to the hospital in broad daylight, going full commando under there—was that for convenience?”  

She’d been so into it, Adam seriously wondered if he hadn’t been such an upright stick-in-the-mud, she might’ve actually staged a daytime “doctor-patient” scene right there.  

Talk about commitment!  

Adam sighed inwardly, zooming in on the mental details despite himself. “Well, can’t let her trip here be a total waste. Might as well give her a quick once-over, rule out any issues—it’s the least I can do.”  

Guess even a tough guy like him had a soft spot.  

Cold on the outside, warm on the inside.  

“Adam! Adam!” Cristina’s voice snapped him out of his mental diagnosis.  

“What’s got you so zoned out?” she asked.  

“Nothing,” he said with a casual smile.  

“Heard you did an ovotesticular removal today?” Cristina said, her tone laced with envy. “And Burke personally tapped you for it?”  

“Yeah,” Adam said, giving her a teasing look. “Don’t be jealous. If you hadn’t been tied up with your ‘big stuff’ lately, Burke probably would’ve picked you instead.”  

Cristina was the next best after Adam, hands down.  

If she hadn’t been dodging Burke these past few days—intentionally or not—her ambiguously flirty vibe with him might’ve made Burke think twice between her and Adam.  

“What ‘big stuff’?” Cristina said, avoiding his gaze, playing dumb.  

“Oh, you’ve definitely got something going on,” Meredith chimed in, borrowing Adam’s logic.  

Cristina’s eyes flickered, giving her away.  

“Hey, you guys smell that?” George suddenly leaned in close, shooting them a sneaky look.  

“Smell what?” Cristina jumped at the chance to change the subject.  

“Over there—the anesthesiologist, Dr. Taylor,” George said, nodding toward a middle-aged guy standing nearby. “I think he’s been drinking.”  

“As long as it’s not during work hours, who cares if he drinks?” Meredith said, annoyed. “Don’t we all knock a few back to unwind after shifts?”  

“We drink,” Adam teased. “You binge.”  

In America, binge drinking was basically a national pastime—AA meetings were everywhere.  

Meredith was definitely leaning that way.  

Get her a few drinks deep, and her pants were halfway down before anyone could stop her. Blacking out? Routine.  

So, of course, she’d push back on George.  

“I mean during work hours,” George said, lowering his voice. “Dr. Shepherd’s got that kid patient, right? I’m the resident on the case, and I swear I smelled booze on Taylor. That’s why I asked if you guys noticed.”  

“Nope,” Meredith said, shaking her head.  

“George, don’t stir up trouble,” Cristina warned. “Taylor’s the best anesthesiologist here. Piss him off, and you’re out of the OR. Any surgery he’s on? You’re banned. Trust me.”  

“But that’s messed up!” George said, torn. “The patient trusts him. Shouldn’t I say something?”  

“The patient trusts Dr. Shepherd, the attending,” Adam pointed out, glancing at him. “Shepherd’s the one who picked Taylor. If you really think it’s a problem, don’t make a scene—just quietly tip off Shepherd. After that, it’s out of your hands. It’s his surgery, his call.”  

George could be a total simp around his crush, Meredith, no question.  

But normally? Dude had a strong sense of justice.  

Otherwise, why would a lowly intern even think about snitching on the hospital’s top anesthesiologist?  

If he ticked Taylor off, Cristina wasn’t exaggerating—no attending would stick their neck out for a tattletale intern over a star like Taylor.  

So, Adam figured he’d throw him a bone with some advice.  

Chapter 373: The Anesthesiologist Loses It 

After grabbing a quick, messy bite to eat, it was apparently afternoon tea time. 

Everyone drifted away from the snack cart. 

Adam swung by Ward 2 to check on Bill. The guy’s mood was obviously in the dumps—Burke must’ve dropped the truth bomb on him. 

There wasn’t much Adam could say about it. 

That’s just the harsh reality. 

Bill would have to tough it out on his own. 

Still, Adam told the nurse to keep an extra eye on him and call him immediately if anything came up. 

Then he hightailed it to the observation room. 

That afternoon, Dr. Shepherd had a hemispherectomy lined up—a big-deal neurosurgery. 

The patient was a two-year-old girl with Rasmussen’s encephalitis. Half her brain was normal; the other half was pretty much toast. 

The surgery meant cutting out all the damaged tissue—basically, removing the bad half of her brain. 

Good thing she was only two. Her brain hadn’t fully developed yet, so after the spinal fluid filled the empty space, the remaining neurons could regenerate and compensate. 

In theory, if the surgery went well, she’d grow up living a normal life. 

Adam really wanted in on this one. 

But this time, Shepherd had specifically tapped George to assist, leaving Adam out in the cold. 

For one, George was the girl’s admitting doctor. 

For two, Shepherd was clearly using this surgery as a bribe. 

George was Meredith’s roommate, and with Shepherd practically living at Meredith’s place these days, he had to smooth over George’s hostility somehow. 

And what better way to win over an intern like George—making him drop the grudges and shout “heck yeah!”—than handing him a fancy neurosurgery? 

That’s power for you. Even a romantic rival gets turned into this. 

Can you really blame people for doubting it’s “true love” and calling it a shady power-play-slash-unmentionable-deal instead? 

Get real. 

In the observation room, overlooking the scrub area outside the OR: 

“Here you go—double espresso, nice and warm,” a surgical nurse said, handing Shepherd his coffee. 

“I could kiss you for this,” Shepherd replied, thanking her before downing it in one go. 

This surgery was going to drag on for hours. He needed to stay razor-sharp. 

Adam smirked at the sight. 

Every lead surgeon has their go-to team. 

Anesthesiologists, surgical nurses—if the vibe’s good, they stick together for years. 

Take that old nurse who’d come in with pancreatic cancer, waiting to die. She’d been Meredith’s mom’s dedicated OR nurse for a solid 18 years! They knew each other’s quirks inside out, totally in sync. 

It got Adam thinking—once he became a lead surgeon, he’d need to build his own crew. 

What would his team look like? 

Kinda exciting to imagine, honestly. 

“Hope you brought a fresh crossword,” Shepherd said, tossing his empty cup in the trash and casually greeting Dr. Taylor, the anesthesiologist he’d been working with since joining the medical center. 

Dr. Taylor patted his chest pocket, where a crossword booklet was tucked away. “Always got it on me.” 

Anesthesiologists have it pretty chill compared to the rest. They just hang out in the OR the whole time, keeping an eye on the patient’s sedation. 

For a pro like Taylor, it was a cakewalk. 

Which led to a little problem. 

Picture an experienced driver cruising down an endless, empty highway—after a while, they might just nod off. 

Anesthesiologists spend most of their time in the OR sitting around, waiting. 

So how do they kill time? 

On the surface, Taylor’s thing was crosswords. 

Under the table? A little nip of booze to take the edge off. 

Adam, up in the observation room, raised an eyebrow. 

Judging by this, George hadn’t said a word, huh? 

Right then, George glanced up, locking eyes with Adam for a split second before dropping his head and heading into the OR. 

“Heh,” Adam chuckled out loud. 

Guess that sense of justice couldn’t hold a candle to the sweet smell of a high-level neurosurgery—especially with the risk of getting on Taylor’s bad side down the road. 

“Welcome to the real world,” Adam sighed to himself. 

If George had picked up on it, did Shepherd and the nurses—who’d done tons of surgeries with Taylor—really not notice? Were their noses permanently stuffed up or something? 

No way! 

In fact, Adam had already heard the gossip from a nurse. 

Everyone knew about Taylor’s little habit. 

There was even a running joke: Taylor was the best anesthesiologist in the center—if he ever got so plastered he couldn’t do his crosswords, then they’d have a problem. 

What else is there to say after that? 

“Big day today, kid. Congrats,” Taylor said warmly, giving George a friendly nod. 

To Taylor, if Shepherd was bringing George into a surgery this major, it meant George was one of Shepherd’s people. A little goodwill was cheap and easy. 

“Thanks,” George replied, his smile a bit forced. He couldn’t help glancing up at Adam in the observation room again. 

Adam shot him a friendly grin. 

George gritted his teeth, looked away, and stared straight at Shepherd. 

“What’s up?” Shepherd asked casually, catching the blatant stare. 

“Don’t you smell…” George trailed off. 

“Smell what?” Shepherd laughed, pointing at his mask. “I’ve got this on.” 

Up in the observation room, Adam winced. Oh man, I was just smiling like a normal, nice guy—no mocking intended! Don’t overthink it, George! 

Too late. Young and hot-headed, George was already worked up. 

He glanced at the anesthetized little girl, then couldn’t hold back anymore. “Sorry, Dr. Taylor, but… have you been drinking?” 

“Say that again?!” Taylor’s face darkened, his eyes boring into George. 

The OR went dead silent. Everyone stopped and stared, disbelief written all over their faces. 

This little intern—had he lost his mind? 

Talk about guts! 

“Can’t you smell it?” George was freaking out inside but doubled down, sniffing the air dramatically. “I smell alcohol.” 

“How dare you ask me that?!” Taylor exploded. 

These surgeries were fully recorded. If he admitted it on tape, it’d be a disaster. 

“George, you’re out of line,” Shepherd warned. 

“There are hospital rules,” George said, fully committed now. “Rules exist for a reason. There’s a two-year-old girl on that table—we can’t just exploit someone’s vulnerability like this…” 

“No snot-nosed intern gets to lecture me about risk!” Taylor sneered. “Get him out of here, Shepherd!” 

Shepherd locked eyes with Taylor, steady and unreadable. 

“Shepherd?” Taylor prompted again. 

“George, go,” Shepherd said, making the obvious call. 

George walked out of the OR in a daze. 

“Taylor, you’d better be on your game,” Shepherd muttered under his breath. 

“Wouldn’t be standing here otherwise,” Taylor replied coolly. 

As the top anesthesiologist in the center, he and Shepherd were equals—Taylor didn’t have to kiss anyone’s ring. 

Shepherd gave him a long look, then turned to a nurse. “Page Dr. Duncan. Tell him to get down here now.” 

This was a teaching hospital. 

With George booted, a spot had opened up for another intern. 

First pick would’ve been Meredith, naturally. 

But with this mess unfolding before the surgery even started, Shepherd wasn’t sure how Meredith would react to Taylor’s boozy breath. 

Plus, things were already off to a rocky start. 

Better safe than sorry—he went straight for the steadiest, sharpest option: Adam. 

Chapter 374: What Does an Intern Know About Anesthesia? 

Observation Room 

The moment Dr. Shepherd spoke, Adam overheard him. 

Though he couldn’t help but admire George’s fiery sense of justice, Adam didn’t hesitate. He jumped up and bolted toward the operating room. 

Borrowing a line from Sheldon: Who told him to be so weak? 

Scrub in, disinfect, gown up. 

It was all so smooth, like clockwork. 

By the time Adam stepped into the OR, Dr. Shepherd was momentarily stunned. 

No surprise there—it was fast. 

But Dr. Shepherd didn’t comment. Having his orders carried out with such efficiency was a good thing, and it softened some of the irritation he’d felt earlier over George and Dr. Taylor. 

“Alright, let’s get started.” 

Dr. Shepherd gave Adam a nod, officially kicking off the surgery as the lead surgeon. 

The drill whirred to life. 

Second-Floor Observation Room 

George, who’d been kicked out, stood in the corner with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. His face was blank as he stared down at the OR. 

Did he regret it? 

Of course he did! 

Especially after leaving the OR and walking alone to the observation room. Once the adrenaline faded, regret hit him like a ton of bricks—he practically felt sick about it. 

What had he done? 

For the sake of a risk that might not even happen, he’d pissed off the hospital’s top anesthesiologist! 

And it wasn’t just Dr. Taylor.  

Most doctors had their quirks—did he really think they’d take kindly to an intern who dared to call them out in front of everyone? 

The answer was obvious. 

George felt like his future was crumbling. 

It was a dark, unethical thought, but right then, a single idea kept creeping into his mind: 

If only the surgery went wrong because of Dr. Taylor’s screw-up… 

But then the little girl’s adorable smile flashed in his head, and George shoved the thought away, ashamed of how twisted it was. 

Adam, meanwhile, didn’t have time to care about George’s inner turmoil. 

He was focused on two things:  

One, assisting Dr. Shepherd—handing him tools, watching him operate, and soaking up every explanation he offered. 

The other, keeping an eye on the monitors and Dr. Taylor, the anesthesiologist. 

That’s right.  

George might’ve been a little hot-headed and not exactly smooth about it, but his concern wasn’t baseless. 

Even the best anesthesiologists could slip up—especially one who’d been drinking. 

Since Adam was in the OR, he’d use every advantage he had to minimize risks and, once again, prove what he was capable of. 

Think about it: if Adam hadn’t already shown how good he was, why would Dr. Burke have picked him for his friend’s case? 

How would this surgery have landed in his lap? 

Americans didn’t mess around with moderation—winner takes all, that’s the game. 

Two Hours Later 

“In a frontal lobectomy, we’ll encounter the anterior cerebral artery…”  

Dr. Shepherd was operating and teaching at the same time when he suddenly noticed something off. “Dr. Duncan, what are you doing?” he asked, surprised. 

“There was an abnormal spike in the blood pressure and heart rate on the monitor just now,” Adam explained.  

He placed his hand on the patient’s radial artery, feeling the pulse directly while continuing, “Blood pressure’s up, heart rate’s climbing—Dr. Shepherd, the anesthesia’s getting light.” 

Sometimes, you couldn’t rely too much on the monitors.  

They were just tools sampling the body’s data, and sampling meant errors could happen. 

A doctor’s hands-on observation? That was more accurate, more dependable. 

“You know anesthesia too?”  

Dr. Shepherd almost laughed in disbelief. “That’s Dr. Taylor’s job. Yours is to assist me and learn.” 

“Dr. Taylor seems to be asleep,” Adam pointed out. “We should wake him up and check the patient’s anesthesia.” 

“No way…”  

Dr. Shepherd started to scoff, then froze. It hit him—there was a chance. 

Dr. Taylor, sitting with his back to them, hadn’t reacted at all to their conversation. 

“Dr. Taylor!” 

“Dr. Taylor!!” 

“DR. TAYLOR!!!”  

Three calls, each louder, each angrier. 

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, I’m here!”  

Dr. Taylor jolted awake, fumbling to cover it up. “Just dozed off for a sec.” 

“Dr. Duncan says the anesthesia’s light. Check it, now,” Dr. Shepherd said, barely holding back his frustration, his face a mask. 

“No way!”  

Dr. Taylor snapped back instinctively.  

As the medical center’s top anesthesiologist, he was fiercely confident in his expertise. 

“What does an intern know about anesthesia?!”  

Then it sank in—who was questioning him? Another damn intern. That sent his temper through the roof. 

Were interns this ballsy now? 

One after another, publicly undermining him? 

“I actually do know a bit,” Adam said earnestly. “At the very least, I know anesthesia’s a field where we still don’t fully understand how the drugs work. It’s all about experience—watching the patient’s reactions and adjusting on the fly.  

“Dr. Taylor, I suggest you check the patient’s status right now. If she wakes up, it’ll be a disaster.” 

Imagine it: a two-year-old girl, skull drilled open, half her brain being removed, waking up from general anesthesia too soon. The thought alone was horrifying. 

“Knowing a little and trying to tell me what to do…”  

Dr. Taylor’s temper flared, fueled by the alcohol still in his system.  

Normally, he’d have checked without hesitation. 

But now? He glanced at the monitor and doubled down, convinced his work was flawless. 

Adam didn’t argue further. He just looked at Dr. Shepherd. 

“Dr. Taylor!”  

This time, Dr. Shepherd didn’t hold back. “Check it now!” he barked. 

Seeing the lead surgeon lose it—and worried the surgery might actually go south—Dr. Taylor finally got serious and checked. 

And there it was: the anesthesia was light.  

As he grabbed the syringe to adjust it, he saw the little girl’s eyelids twitch. Panicked, he injected the anesthetic fast. 

“My bad, Shepherd. Won’t happen again, I swear,” Dr. Taylor said, trying to brush it off. “Steve, get me some coffee.” 

“It won’t happen again—not here,” Dr. Shepherd replied, stone-faced. “Steve, call Dr. Pellington. Hopkins, you take over until she gets here.” 

Dr. Pellington was another anesthesiologist at the hospital. 

“Yes, Doctor,” the two nurses responded instantly. 

In the OR, the lead surgeon’s word was law. 

“George was right,” Dr. Shepherd said, glancing at a stunned Dr. Taylor. “Go sober up.” 

Dr. Taylor stormed out, his face dark with fury. 

Getting kicked out of the OR? For a doctor, it was pure humiliation—especially for someone like him, the medical center’s so-called anesthesia king. 

Second-Floor Observation Room 

George watched it all unfold, his expression a mess of emotions. 

Adam had not only stopped a potential disaster but stayed in the OR, getting to assist and learn on this high-level neurosurgery case. 

It was the perfect outcome George had secretly hoped for.  

So why did it have to be Adam pulling it off instead of him?