Surgery Godfather
Chapter 1323: The Secret Love of - 1000

Chapter 1323: The Secret Love of Chapter 1000

The lengthy exposition that Wen Ru posted in the hospital’s WeChat mega-group was like an epic thesis, arguing from multiple angles—psychology, sociology, biology—why streaking at 3 a.m. made sense. He provided plenty of indisputable proof that he completed the run without revealing any privacy, and the entire argument was impervious.

The whole group had to admit, a Doctor’s way of doing things was indeed scholarly, and the "thesis" had everyone convinced, leaving no room for refutation.

What the hell, a feint!

The official notice had said 3 o’clock, but there was some initial uncertainty whether this meant 3 a.m. or 3 p.m. Then a rumor started from nowhere saying it was 3 p.m., so naturally, everyone assumed the announced 3 o’clock referred to the afternoon. But there he was completing the streak at 3 a.m. for real.

"I heard Wen Ruzheng has already completed the streak."

A young staff member at the Medical Services Office told Director Zhao.

"Done? Wen Ruzheng, you little rascal, actually pulling a diversion on me." Director Zhao stood dumbfounded, while a few security guards also stopped, unsure of what to do.

After a brief silence, the group started to criticize the timing of the notice: "Wen Ruzheng, you’re not a real man, but a hypocrite. You talk about standing tall and keeping your word, but didn’t you say 3 o’clock in the group? Why didn’t you specify whether it was 3 a.m. or 3 p.m.?"

"Brother, please watch your language and stick to the facts. No personal attacks. The notice clearly stated 3 o’clock. If it’s in the 24-hour format, 3 o’clock is definitely in the wee hours. If it’s in the 12-hour format, then without the qualifiers ’in the morning’ or ’in the afternoon,’ it could mean either 3 a.m. or 3 p.m., meaning I could choose either time to keep my word. Hence, my streak at 3 a.m. was certainly in strict compliance with my promise. There was an official notice before my streak specifying the time, location, and method in detail, and I had witnesses following me the entire way. How can you talk about me being a hypocrite?" Wen Ruzheng replied calmly.

"But why does everyone in the hospital say it was 3 p.m.?"

"Why believe rumors over an official notice? That’s your problem."

"Who knows if your witnesses, Zhang Lin and Liang Fatty, are in cahoots with you? Why didn’t you video it as evidence?"

"Keep a video of such a thing on my phone? If it gets leaked and spread, I could be charged with producing and distributing indecent material. That’s illegal, understand?"

"Any other witnesses besides Zhang Lin and Liang Fatty?"

"If more witnesses are needed, you could ask Xu Lingmin, the nurse from the emergency department who was called for urgent support this very morning. I even greeted her while running."

"It looked like you were wearing tight sports clothing top and bottom at the time. That’s streaking?" an astonished nurse from the midnight shift asked.

"My clothing and trousers were painted on, which doesn’t violate the principles of streaking."

"Oh my god! Painted on?"

"Those interested can come to the Pathology Department to inspect in person, the paint hasn’t been removed yet."

"Everyone, let it go. I can personally guarantee that Doctor Wen did indeed strictly carry out the streak. To ensure the painting was complete, he even shaved off all his hair. This spirit is worth our study," said Zhang Lin and Liang Fatty, who did indeed see that he had nothing on his body besides the paint, under full supervision the entire time.

"---"

In the Pathology Department’s Resting Room, Wen Ruzheng relaxed in his chair, basking in the scent of coffee, feeling utterly content. He decided once again to endure hardship to gain strength, recognizing his own abilities were still lacking. Only through shame could he spur himself to further courage and eventually defeat Professor Yang.

This streaking episode was indeed completed, and in fact, even if he had to run naked around Sanbo Hospital at noon for three circuits, it wouldn’t have pressured Wen Ruzheng at all. Running at noon could have been a chance for a sunbath, toasting his back, but Old Zhao was too feudal, too conservative, too pedantic—why was he so sensitive about a streak? Well, give him some face, don’t run at noon.

Wen Ruzheng reminisced about the early morning streak; it was exhilarating, the most relaxed he had ever felt—complete mental and physical relaxation, a harmonious unity with nature. Actually, there were still people on the streets at 3 a.m. He encountered an emergency nurse on her way to the hospital, to whom he cheerfully waved, she hurriedly responded and dashed off to the hospital. There was also a couple tightly embracing under a tree, too occupied to notice Wen Ruzheng jogging. A cargo truck was parked on the side, presumably for a delivery; the driver was busy moving things around, not bothering about a runner. And a drunk was muttering to himself by the roadside, not even sure of his own identity, let alone noticing someone streaking.

In summary, he crossed paths with just a few people throughout the process, none of whom cared whether he was clothed. Even if they did pay attention, they must have thought he was just wearing a tight suit. Perfect!

"Wen Ruzheng!"

Director Zhao’s voice thundered.

Wen Ruzheng instantly dropped his feet from the table: "You scared me, nearly choked on my coffee."

"You’re quite something, playing a game of cat and mouse with me. Did you really streak this morning?" Director Zhao burst in, visibly agitated.

Wen Ruzheng nodded: "Streaking is indeed a very effective way to relax, Director Zhao. I suggest you try it too; it’s very healthy."

"You weren’t filmed, were you?"

"Not openly, as for secretly, no idea. But even if I were, I’m not worried. With the ambience at 3 a.m., the poor lighting, plus my body paint, I’m not afraid of being filmed; you can’t make out anything."

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