546-550

Chapter 546: The Student and the Mentor 

Late at night. 

As always. 

Juno and Karen had settled in, while Adam and Paige, after diving into quantum physics, moved on to a deeper, more personal conversation. 

“You’re studying math?” 

Paige’s eyes glazed over for a moment before she suddenly asked. 

“Yup.” 

Adam nodded. 

His study, aside from medical books, had recently been stacked with a ton of math texts. The signs of studying were pretty obvious. 

“Why?” 

Paige propped herself up on her side, looking at Adam curiously. 

“Uh…” 

Adam paused for a second, then chuckled. “Well, naturally to become a better doctor! Math’s the foundation of all science, right? The Duncan-Adler formula proves it perfectly. Since I’ve got the energy and the ability, learning a bit more can’t hurt.”  

“You’re such a weird guy.” 

Paige reached out, grabbed Adam’s chin, and playfully tilted it side to side. “Back in the day, your IQ seemed pretty average—no real standout talent. But in just a few years, you’re out here playing chess with me while reciting crazy complex data without missing a beat. And in between studying medicine like a madman, I saw your reading notes—your self-taught math progress is insane! Sure, IQ might improve over time, but not in such a massive leap. So, spill it—how’d you do it?” 🤔 

“Can’t I just say I was hiding my skills all along?” 

Adam grinned cheekily. 

“Nope.” 

Paige shook her head firmly. “That kind of dumb isn’t something you can fake.”  

“…” 

Adam’s mouth twitched. Ouch. 

“Hey, what’re you doing?” 

Paige frowned as Adam dramatically clutched his chest. 

“I’m not sure. Gotta do some soul-searching first, then I’ll let you know.” 

Adam said it with a straight face, barely holding back a laugh. 

“Ugh, not this again! You’re so annoying!” 

Paige rolled her eyes hard. Last time they had a late-night heart-to-heart, Adam swore on his conscience while patting his chest. Now he’s pulling this “soul-searching” nonsense? What even is this guy on about? 

“Sorry.” 

Adam shifted his position, still grinning. 

“…” 

Paige didn’t even want to respond anymore. 

“I’m not Leonard, you know.” 

Adam’s smug smile grew wider as he teased her. 

“What does Leonard have to do with this?” 

Paige couldn’t help but ask. 

She knew Adam’s goofy friend—decently smart but always so timid, barely able to look girls in the eye when talking. No way he’d pull off something like Adam was doing now. 

“Heh.” 

Adam couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and started spilling some of Leonard’s most embarrassing moments. 

Of course, Leonard hadn’t met Penny yet at this point, so Adam just referred to “a certain girl” in the stories. 

Basically, it was a little anecdote recorded in Leonard’s mom Beverly’s book The Hopeless Loser—a classic case of “a leopard can’t change its spots.” 

Leonard had always been stuck on the left side, forever liking the left side, and… well, you get the idea. 

Such a kid. Doesn’t even understand the beauty of wanting it all!  

“You seriously want to study math, though?” 

Paige, already used to Adam’s shamelessness, breezed past his crude vocabulary and shifted the focus back to math. 

“Yep.” 

Adam nodded. 

“Then work hard and finish your undergrad and grad studies quick. After that, you could be my PhD student.” 

Paige said it with a serious tone. 

“You’re planning to teach?” 

Adam looked at her, genuinely surprised. 

In the States, university professors are split into two types: those who research and teach (assistant professor, associate professor, full professor) and those who only research (research assistant professor, research associate professor, research full professor). 

Most PhDs start as assistant professors or research assistant professors. But since assistant professor is the main path to becoming a full professor, and with the growing number of PhDs, those spots are getting harder to snag. 

Climbing the ladder further takes 3 to 7 years of probation, plus outstanding academic and teaching achievements, and the approval of your peers. 

Associate and full professors, though, are tenured positions—kinda like a permanent gig in some countries. Unless you mess up big time, even the dean can’t fire you. Plus, the pay and benefits are way better. 

It’s why when a tenured professor went nuts, everyone around Sheldon was celebrating and fighting tooth and nail for the spot. 

Take Sheldon, for example. He started as a research assistant professor, focusing solely on string theory in theoretical physics. At that point, he could’ve become a lecturer and switched to teaching assistant professor. 

But his first attempt at teaching ended with him spinning around in class only to get a collective middle finger from all his students. 

Later, he read their brutal reviews: “Einstein’s theory of relativity applies perfectly here—Dr. Cooper’s class makes time crawl at a glacial pace,” “Dr. Cooper’s like a giant cockroach,” “Just kill me already.” 

Sheldon, who thought he’d successfully “educated” a generation, was pissed. He also remembered how he failed miserably trying to teach his brother Georgie back in high school and decided to give up on educating “stupid humans” altogether. 

So, he naturally ditched the teaching professor path. 

But when his string theory research hit a dead end, and life threw too many changes his way, he just couldn’t handle it and ran off. When he came back, Caltech—desperate to keep a “beautiful mind” like him—promoted him from research assistant professor to teaching assistant professor. 

Sheldon’s response? “I ran away for a bit, and now you’re giving me a raise and promotion to teach the next generation? You guys are such freaks!”  

Anyway, a teaching assistant professor who juggles research and teaching is obviously tougher—and higher status—than a research-only assistant professor. 

Sheldon had no choice but to agree, becoming a teaching assistant professor like Leonard. 

Surprise, surprise! 

Leonard’s position was actually higher than Sheldon’s all along. 

He’d even once threatened to ditch Sheldon at the comic book store unless Sheldon gave a guest lecture to his students. 

So yeah, Leonard was a teaching assistant professor—researching and teaching—though in the science pecking order, Sheldon still looked down on him. 

To be fair, Sheldon only struggled with teaching because he couldn’t connect with students, not because he lacked the credentials. 

Once he accepted Caltech’s “freaky” offer and became a teaching assistant professor, he was immediately able to mentor PhD students (like Howard, who wanted to study under him). 

Normally, only full professors mentor PhD students, with a rare few exceptional associate or assistant professors getting the gig. 

Paige, currently a research assistant professor, could easily switch to teaching assistant professor if she wanted—her school would jump at the chance. 

And with her brilliance, even as an assistant professor, becoming a PhD mentor wasn’t out of the question. 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Paige said. “Undergrads and master’s students are too many—I don’t wanna deal with that. But a PhD student? I’d only take you on. Once you get your math PhD, I’d ditch teaching and go back to being a research assistant professor. By then, I might even be an associate or full professor.”

“You’d start teaching just for me?” 

Adam felt a bit touched. 

“I’d mentor you, and as long as you’re up to par, you’d graduate easily,” Paige nodded. “That way, you’d have more flexibility with your time and wouldn’t delay your doctor career.” 

“Nah, I just wanna learn more math for the sake of it—I don’t really care about a math PhD,” Adam said with a smile. “Having you as my mentor would definitely make things easier, but it wouldn’t look great to others. Even if I got the degree, people would probably talk behind my back.” 

“Oh, I see.” 

Paige blinked, processing that. 

“But thanks anyway,” Adam added, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Besides, you don’t have to teach me in a classroom, you know…”  

“…” 

Paige was speechless. 

Chapter 547: Pure Joy 

Thanksgiving night. 

Peggy wanted to be Adam’s mentor. 

Adam, determined not to be seen as someone sponging off others, decided to take the "soft life" and make it his own.  

So, he started asking Peggy about sports mathematics. 

Even though this was an everyday world without any super magical powers, the moment Peggy tapped Adam’s forehead with her finger, something wild happened. His soul felt like it got jolted right out of his body, floating in midair, watching his physical self on the bed—striking poses from the Yijin Jing one second and the Shenzu Jing the next. 

It was like Doctor Strange getting his mind blown open by the Ancient One.  

Suddenly, Adam gained a deeper understanding of Buddhist teachings. Everything felt like an illusion—dreams, bubbles, dew, lightning—something to just observe and let go. 

“Hey, don’t just stand there spacing out. Ask me your questions already!”  

Peggy’s soul floated up too, snapping Adam out of his Zen moment. 

“Oh, right!”  

Adam snapped back to reality and started bombarding her with math problems he’d stumbled over while self-studying. Peggy, being the genius mathematician she was, gave him quick, spot-on answers. 

Hmmm…  

Back in the day, Adam would’ve been totally lost listening to her. But now, with his brain syncing up to Peggy’s level, her explanations were short, sharp, and crystal clear. It was like a light bulb went off in his head! 💡 

His math skills shot up like a rocket. 

And Peggy? She got sparked by Adam’s quirky, genius-angle questions. Her eyes lit up with wisdom, a little smirk tugging at her lips. 

That night, both of them were on cloud nine—mind and body in total harmony.  

The next morning, Adam saw Juno and Karen off, called his assistant Lisa to pick Peggy up at noon, and headed to the hospital, full of energy, ready to dive back into saving lives and extending lifespans. 

At the ER:  

“Morning, Dr. Duncan!”  

The sharpest little nurse greeted him with a big smile.  

“Morning, Violet!”  

Adam grinned back.  

“Were those two friends of yours yesterday a doctor and a nurse?” the sharpest nurse asked, curiosity bubbling. “I heard they worked together like a dream.”  

She’d been off duty yesterday—missed the highway pileup. It wasn’t as crazy as that train derailment, though. Plus, it was Thanksgiving. Besides the surgical chief and a few department heads, a ton of staff hadn’t made it back yet. She was one of them. 

“Yup,” Adam nodded, then thought about Juno and Karen’s seamless teamwork. He glanced at the sharpest nurse.  

Juno had Karen. Alice Grey had her dedicated OR nurse of 18 years. Maybe he needed a nurse who could sync with him too. 

This nurse would need:  

1. Talent—both technical skills and quick wits. His future medical team had to be top-tier; no point in a pro dragging along amateurs.  

1. Youth—someone to stick with him long-term. Older meant communication gaps and eventual replacements. Too much hassle.  

1. Vibe—they didn’t have to be a supermodel, but they should be easy on the eyes, with a good attitude. No hero worship required, but a healthy respect for him was a must. 

Fans weren’t necessary, but a loyal supporter? That’d do. Otherwise, things could get bumpy. 

The sharpest nurse checked all those boxes.  

Her skills and smarts? No question—she didn’t just earn the nickname “sharpest” for gossip. Her nursing game was top-notch, one of the best in the hospital. Without that, she’d have no clout to back up her sass!  

Young? She’d just turned 20.  

Vibe? She was one of his biggest hospital cheerleaders, with above-average looks that suited his taste just fine.  

Of course, even if she fit perfectly, she still couldn’t touch Karen’s level of synergy with Juno. That was next-level stuff.  

As these thoughts zipped through his head, Adam chatted with her a bit more, asking how she’d spent Thanksgiving. If he was serious about grooming her for his future team, he’d need to get a feel for her personality and lifestyle too. In this drama-filled world, life and work could clash hard—plenty of people proved that. 

“Doctor!”  

A woman burst in, supporting a man. “My husband’s got stomach pain!”  

Adam stepped over, checked him out, and asked the usual, “Did he eat anything unusual?”  

“Nope,” the man groaned, while the woman hesitated.  

“Alright, we’ll need an X-ray,” Adam said, spotting a sleepy John Carter shuffling over. “Carter, take…”  

“Moe Paszkiewicz,” the woman cut in, catching Adam’s glance.  

“Take Mr. Paszkiewicz for an X-ray,” Adam directed.  

“Yes, Dr. Duncan!” Carter perked up and jogged over.  

The sharpest nurse had already rolled up a wheelchair, settling Moe in and reminding Carter, “Mention Dr. Duncan’s name.”  

Carter nodded and wheeled him off to the X-ray room.  

“How’s he been lately?” Adam asked, watching Carter go.  

“Not bad,” the sharpest nurse replied. She knew Adam was keeping an eye on Carter and had been quietly observing him too. “Among the med interns, he’s got a solid foundation, a good attitude, and he works hard. Yesterday, while the other interns went home for Thanksgiving, he stayed. Crashed in the on-call room when he got tired.”  

“If he’s that dedicated, why doesn’t he hang around me more?” Adam chuckled.  

“Oh, I know this one!” she laughed. “He’s still hung up on making those authentic Eastern-style braised pig trotters you like. He’s been practicing, but he hasn’t nailed it yet, so he’s too shy to get close.”  

“Not flexible enough,” Adam said, shaking his head. “But his heart’s in the right place.”  

New Year was coming up soon. In a few months, Adam and his batch of interns would finish their year-long internship. Pass the exam, and they’d be full-fledged residents, mentoring the next wave of interns.  

John Carter, one of those lucky pre-grads who snagged an early internship, had a good shot at sticking around. If he kept up the effort, he could land a residency spot at the medical center and join the next intern crew.  

And if Adam vouched for him? Done deal.  

Since Carter seemed eager to learn from him, Adam had been quietly sizing up his character, ethics, and talent. He was willing to give him a shot. The pig trotter thing? Just a casual joke. Still better than Dr. House next door humiliating his team! 😅  

“Dr. Duncan, here’s the X-ray,” Carter said, jogging back with the film.  

“What’s this?” Adam asked, glancing at it.  

“Gastrointestinal blockage?” Carter guessed.  

“Treatment?”  

“Injection to stimulate bowel movement,” Carter said. “Let it pass naturally.”  

“No way something this big comes out on its own,” Adam shook his head. “Come with me. Let’s ask Mr. Paszkiewicz what he really ate.”  

Chapter 548: The Struggling Author 

In the hospital room. 

Mr. Paskowitz, the patient, lay there with a vacant look in his eyes. 

His wife sat beside him, knitting a sweater. 

“Mr. Paskowitz, the X-ray results are back. There’s a large mass of foreign objects in your stomach, and even laxatives won’t help dislodge it,” Adam said, holding up the X-ray for them to see. 

“Oh, great,” the patient’s wife quipped without looking up from her knitting. “Doc, can you just reach into his backside and yank it out?” 😜 

“Sweetheart, please!” Mr. Paskowitz snapped, clearly annoyed. 

“No can do,” Adam replied, the corner of his mouth twitching as he maintained a professional smile. “It’s a sizable mass blocking things up. Surgery’s the only way to get it out. But here’s the thing, Mr. Paskowitz—can you tell me what exactly you ate?” 

“Garbage. Absolute garbage,” Mr. Paskowitz mumbled, glancing at Adam. 

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Adam asked, looking over at the man’s wife. “We need to know what we’re dealing with to prepare properly.” 

“Tell him what you ate, Moll,” the wife said, barely holding back a laugh. “Here’s a hint, Doc—he’s a writer, and he’s been agonizing over his work.” 

“Writer’s block, huh?” Adam nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that can be brutal.” 

“You know the feeling?” Mr. Paskowitz asked, eyeing Adam suspiciously. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Adam said with a chuckle. “That feeling when you can’t write a single word, everything slows to a crawl, your brain’s like a pot of mushy porridge—just bubbling and foggy. Every sentence feels like a stab in the temples, your head spins, you’re drained of all energy, you wanna cry but can’t, and it’s like the world’s crashing down with nowhere to run. Total despair.”  

“Man!” Mr. Paskowitz slapped the bed and shouted, “That’s it exactly! You nailed it! You really get it!” 

The description of writer’s block wasn’t originally Adam’s—it came from a character named Lü Xiùcái he’d heard in a past life, back when he was just starting out with online writing. He’d fall asleep to old reruns of Martial Arts Chronicles, and Lü’s words hit him hard. They resonated so deeply, capturing the raw struggle of being a writer. 

Adam had never been a natural at writing. He just loved reading novels. Over time, though, he couldn’t find stories that scratched the itch anymore, so he decided to write his own. At first, he was all fired up, thinking, I’m the chosen one, a prodigy! I’ll write a masterpiece and become a legend overnight! But when he sat down at the computer and couldn’t type a single word, reality slapped him hard. Turns out, he wasn’t the chosen one after all.  

That first attempt crashed and burned. Over the years, he’d get bursts of motivation, give up, then try again—a cycle that dragged on until he finally got the hang of it and officially started writing. Writer’s block was a constant companion. Lü Xiùcái’s words weren’t just the screenwriter’s truth—they struck a chord with Adam back then and even had this foreign patient nodding in awe. 

It was just too real, too raw. A perfect summary of the miserable life of a struggling author. 

“Dr. Duncan here totally gets it,” Carter, standing behind Adam, chimed in. “He’s not just a doctor, you know. He’s a famous writer too.” 

“A writer? Duncan…” Mr. Paskowitz blinked, then it clicked. “You’re the guy who wrote Lord of the Mysteries! Adam Duncan!” 

“That’s me,” Adam said with a smile. “So, now can you tell me what you ate?” 

“He ate his novel,” the wife finally blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer as she knitted away. 

“What?!” Carter’s jaw dropped. 

“I ate my manuscript—the whole thing! Every single page of that worthless pile!” Mr. Paskowitz shouted. 

“I read all your drafts. They weren’t as bad as you think,” his wife teased. “If you hadn’t eaten it all, you could’ve shown it to this talented doctor here. Maybe the ending wouldn’t be so… awkward.” 

Mr. Paskowitz froze. Clearly, the thought had crossed his mind. If a successful author had seen his work and given it a shoutout, maybe he could’ve made it big. Too late now, though. 

“It was absolute trash!” he growled, frustrated. 

“Three years,” his wife scoffed. “Three years of listening to your rants and complaints, just to watch you eat it in the end?” 

“Three years?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “For one book? Mr. Paskowitz, have you considered getting a day job and writing on the side? Might spark some inspiration.” 

“I’m a writer!” Mr. Paskowitz shot back, fired up. “I don’t need a backup plan!” 

“Fair enough,” Adam said with a shrug, not pushing further. 

Three years on a book that didn’t get published and ended up in his stomach, landing him in the hospital for pricey surgery. Talk about passion over profit. 😬 

Man… Adam couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. This guy had a wife who stuck by him through it all. Meanwhile, in his past life, so many writers slaved away at day jobs, stayed up late writing, risked burnout for meager pay, all for the love of the craft. Most had nothing to show for it. Even the ones who made a living off writing got judged hard in the dating scene. And here was Mr. Paskowitz—three years, no book, and still had a loyal wife? Talk about unfair! The struggles of those online writers from his past life were on a whole other level. Life’s just not fair sometimes. 

“Mr. Paskowitz, we’ve booked the operating room for you. An hour from now—” Adam started explaining the surgery plan when he suddenly froze. 

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” The wife, despite her teasing, clearly cared about her husband and grew worried. 

“He’s sweating,” Adam said, his mind racing through possible causes. “How much paper did you actually eat?” 

“A ton!” the wife answered. 

“Carter, draw blood from Mr. Paskowitz and send it to toxicology for testing,” Adam instructed. 

“On it, Doc,” Carter said, quickly stepping forward to take a sample. 

“What’s going on, Doctor?” the wife asked, her voice tinged with anxiety. 

“I suspect Mr. Paskowitz might be poisoned,” Adam explained. “Paper can contain harmful substances like lead or mercury from the printing process. If ingested in large amounts, it can lead to heavy metal poisoning. Given how much paper he ate, the risk is pretty high.” 

“You hear that?!” the wife exclaimed, torn between worry and exasperation. “Damn it! Even if it was all garbage, couldn’t you just burn it? Did you have to eat it and turn yourself into a trash bin?” 

“I wanted to put it behind me for good and start fresh with a new book!” Mr. Paskowitz said, pale and sweating buckets. “Eating it was… a ritual!” 

Adam could only shake his head. 

Soon, Carter returned with the test results. “It’s mercury poisoning.” 

“Administer dimercaprol,” Adam told the nurse. It was the standard treatment for mercury poisoning, helping to flush the metal out of the body. 

Chapter 549: The Gap Between People 

Medical Center. One Hour Later. 

“I poured all my heart and soul into that cursed book, and now it’s stuck in my butt!” 

Mr. Pascowitz, the patient, groaned in frustration.  

“And it even poisoned you!” 

His wife chimed in with a sarcastic jab.  

“Alright, time for surgery. Let’s get that book back to the library where it belongs.” 

Adam grinned.  

“Audrey, if I don’t make it…” 

As Mr. Pascowitz was wheeled toward the operating room, he kept yammering at his wife, “Carve that last line onto my tombstone!” 

“You’d better not die.” 

Audrey’s eyes flickered with worry, though her tone stayed sharp. “Plenty of great artists were nobodies while alive, only getting famous after death because of their work. But you? You didn’t even leave a rough draft! No one’s gonna know what this stupid novel that killed you was about. So don’t you dare die!”  

“…” 

Mr. Pascowitz huffed, exasperated. “Audrey, can’t you say something nice for once?!” 

“I’ll save the nice stuff for after your surgery,” she snapped back. “Until then, a fool who got himself into this mess doesn’t deserve it.”  

Adam quietly marveled to himself. 

A wife like that… she’s really one of a kind. 

Three years of nothing to show for it—no fame, no mention of a decent published novel from either of them. Judging by their clothes, they weren’t some rich family living off financial freedom, chasing personal dreams. Most likely, she’d been the one keeping them afloat all this time. 

This doesn’t even feel like real life—it’s more like one of those poor scholar tales from a ghost story collection.  

Operating Room. 

“Dr. Duncan, is being a writer really that tough?” 

Richard, the chief surgeon, stood at the assistant’s spot, watching Adam’s flawless technique. With no need to guide him, he got bored and struck up a chat, curious since Adam was a writer too. 

“It’s like any other field—depends on talent,” Adam replied with a smile while working. “If you suck at it, it’s torture. If you’re good, it’s a breeze. Our Mr. Pascowitz here? Probably someone with zero talent who’s convinced he’s a genius.”  

“Dr. Duncan must be one of those super talented ones, though!” 

A surgical nurse piped up with a grin.  

“Heh.” 

Adam shook his head, chuckling. “Nah, I’m not that talented at writing either.” 

He’d piggybacked off a legendary author’s masterpiece to score his first big win. That book was a career-defining work, polished over years. Naturally, it made Adam look like a prodigy. But the truth? If he tried writing an original now, it’d flop so hard people would suspect he’d plagiarized his earlier stuff. 

Writing flair, photographic memory, and cosmic-level IQ didn’t exactly go hand in hand. 

Sure, with his stamina and speed now, he could churn out words at a pace leagues beyond his past self. But in the U.S., without web novels and stuck with traditional publishing, insane typing speed meant squat without quality. 

So, after milking Lord of the Mysteries dry, he was done. No more books. 

Emmm… cash out and retire in style!  

“What?! Dr. Duncan, you’re young, hit it big with one book, and you’re saying you’re not talented?” 

Another nurse gasped, wide-eyed.  

“Nope. You guys just haven’t seen a real writing genius.” 

Adam laughed. “Look, for people like me, writing a book means brainstorming, outlining, researching, fleshing out the outline—preferably into a detailed one—so you know what you’re doing. Then you draft the opening, rewrite it a dozen times, tweak it ‘til it’s perfect. Some folks bang out tens of thousands of words, then cut and polish it over and over until they’re happy. After finishing the whole thing, you repeat that grinding process again. Sounds like a hassle, right?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

The nurse nodded eagerly.  

“Good work comes from relentless refinement,” Richard added, nodding wisely. “Same as us doctors. You build a solid foundation through practice to become a top doc and save more lives.”  

“Exactly,” Adam agreed, still smiling. “But then there are the freaks of nature—the real geniuses. Outlines? Detailed plans? What’s that? Rewriting openings or polishing drafts? Ha! When inspiration hits, they just open Word and go ham. No overthinking—just thousands of words in a flash. And it’s not garbage either! The quality’s better than what most people get after a dozen revisions. It’s got soul, hooks you deep, and they crank it out ten times faster than the average joe—day after day, same pace, same brilliance. How’s a normal person supposed to compete with that?”  

“That’s insane!” 

The anesthesiologist, who’d been fiddling with a crossword, looked up, skeptical. “A writing genius like that? Why haven’t I read about them in the papers?”  

“Trust me, the real pros are out there, just not in the spotlight,” Adam said with a sly grin. 

Not yet, anyway. 

In his past life, he’d drooled over talents like that. He didn’t even need both speed and quality—just one would’ve sent him soaring. Writer’s block? Never heard of it! Daily updates of tens of thousands of words, no full-time grind required. Cold weather? Jet off to Sanya, rent a beachfront room—code in the morning, hit the waves in the afternoon, party at night. He’d heard the old-timers in his writing groups brag about that life, and man, was he jealous.  

“Okay, found the culprit!” 

Adam’s voice snapped everyone back. 

A nurse handed him a tray. With a pair of forceps, he pulled out a greasy, dark lump—ten centimeters long, five wide. Once a wad of eaten paper, now it was a smooth, compressed blob, almost pearl-like from being ground down inside.  

“Anyone want it? Could be America’s greatest novel!” 

Richard quipped loudly, smirking.  

Everyone stared, silent.  

“If no one minds, I’d like to keep it as a memento,” Adam said with a chuckle.  

“…” 

All eyes turned to him, stunned. Then a few lit up. 

Wait, could this actually be America’s greatest novel?  

“You know I’m a writer too,” Adam shrugged. “A cautionary tale like this? Pretty memorable stuff.”  

“Of course, no problem,” Richard laughed. 

The others who’d been tempted deflated. 

Cautionary tale, my foot. We’re not writers—what do we need this junk for?  

Chapter 550: Good Intentions Gone Wrong 

Medical Center. 

The surgery wrapped up smoothly. 

Noon. 

Cafeteria. 

"Adam, you still into collecting this gross stuff?" Liz grimaced at the glass jar on the table, which proudly displayed 'America's Greatest Novel' inside. 

"Gross?" Adam glanced at her with a smirk. "You’re such a rookie! There are doctors out there collecting literal poop, and they even call one of them the 'Gut Girl Poop Princess.' Loads of people think she’s adorable and totally love her for it. " 

"No way!" Liz dropped her fork, swallowing hard, her face a mix of disgust and disbelief. "There’s no way someone like that exists! And even if they did, it’d probably be some super flamboyant gay dude, not a female doctor…" 

"See? Look at you!" Adam chuckled. "So narrow-minded! The Gut Girl doctor I’m talking about looks at her collection from a medical angle. Every type of poop is different, and different poop points to different diseases. Collecting it is just another way to learn and remember. But your first thought is 'gross,' and then you jump to saying it shouldn’t be a woman, it’s gotta be some flamboyant gay guy—that’s just your dirty mind talking. Between two female doctors, who’s the pro here? Feeling a bit ashamed yet?" 

"…" Liz’s face turned red, but she wasn’t ready to back down. "Forget gender for a sec—I just don’t buy that any doctor would do that. Where’s this so-called female doctor even work?" 

"If you don’t believe me, fine." Adam shrugged, dodging the question. No way was he gonna say it was Yunhua Hospital. 

"Bet you’re just making it up," Liz muttered, growing more convinced he was pulling her leg since he wouldn’t answer. 

"Whatever makes you happy." Adam grinned and went back to his food. 

Just then, chubby little George stormed over, plopping down with a huff. His round, pale face screamed 'I’m pissed.' 

"Whoa! Here comes our hero!" Liz clapped for George, momentarily forgetting the Poop Princess drama. 

"Heh." Adam snickered, eyeing George. 

"You guys!" George snapped, fuming. 

"You straight-up told off Dr. Montgomery, didn’t even wait for him to kick you out—just dropped a ‘So I don’t need to handle this case anymore, right? Got it!’ and walked out like a boss." Liz giggled. "That’s the most badass thing we’ve ever seen you do!" 

"What’s that supposed to mean?" George’s face darkened. "You saying I’m not usually a man?!" 

"Oh, you’re always a man, totally a man," Liz teased, barely holding in her laughter. "Just… this time you were extra manly!" 

"Alright, enough," Adam cut in. "So, what’d the family of that two-hearted patient decide?" 

Yup, that’s right! The guy they thought might be pregnant, suspected to have a teratoma and be a two-hearted patient, turned out not to be. But now, the hospital did have a real two-hearted patient. 

She looked like a teenage girl. 

Her name was Beth. 

She was admitted for enlarged pelvic lymph nodes and underwent an ultrasound-guided biopsy. 

The results were jaw-dropping. 

The tissue wasn’t ovarian—it was testicular. 

Compared to that bombshell, the actual diagnosis—a benign lymph node tumor—felt like small potatoes. 

"They want us to keep it from Beth," George said, voice dripping with anger. "They wanna sneak in during the lymph node surgery and remove the testicular tissue too—basically do a gender reassignment surgery without her knowing. What kind of parents do that?! Making a life-changing decision for their kid without even telling her! Beth’s always felt like something’s off about her. She’s super insecure, thinks she’s a freak. Even at her age, her chest is still flat as a board… To try and be like other girls, she’s been secretly taking birth control pills—five at a time! She heard it’d help her develop, but that’s dangerous! It could kill her! Now, with this situation, Beth could choose to live as a boy, and having a flat chest wouldn’t be something to hide. But her parents wanna just snip that option away without even a heads-up. I can’t accept that!" 

"Chill, man," Adam said, surprised. "George, what’s got you so worked up? I’ve never seen you this emotional before. Something hit close to home?" 

"Yeah," Liz chimed in, squinting at him. "George, don’t tell me you…" 

"I’m not!" George’s chubby face turned beet red as he caught their meaning. "I haven’t had any gender reassignment surgery!" 

"Relax, we believe you," Adam said with a laugh. "It’s just rare to see you so empathetic. Kinda threw us off." 

"I’m really not!" George insisted, still red-faced. "I just… I see my old self in Beth. Not like that, but… back in middle school, I was lonely and insecure too. Beth’s got almost no friends, gets picked on all the time, and just draws comics to cope. I was the same. To make friends, I even joined the Dungeons & Dragons club—ended up as the secretary and treasurer." 

"What?!" Liz burst out laughing. "George, you were such a nerd in middle school!" 

"Dungeons & Dragons again, huh?" Adam groaned. "Seriously, George, you getting paid by them or something?" 

"Huh?" George blinked, totally lost. 

"I swear, every lonely, awkward kid ends up playing Dungeons & Dragons together," Adam said with an eye roll. "Even my buddy’s obsessed with it—been playing since we were kids. I’m starting to think D&D’s dropping big bucks on marketing to make this happen." 

Adam couldn’t help but think of Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory, always going on about D&D. There were even episodes where the whole crew played it. With how huge that show was, Adam wouldn’t be surprised if D&D shelled out some serious cash for product placement. 

"So what’re you gonna do?" Liz asked, curious. "You gonna tell Beth?" 

"No way," Adam warned. "Going against a minor’s parents’ wishes could land you in a lawsuit real quick." 

"Don’t worry, I’m not that dumb," George said, thinking it over. "I won’t tell her outright, but I can drop some hints to make her ask her parents herself…" 

"I’d think twice about that," Adam said seriously. "Her parents aren’t completely wrong here. They’ve raised a daughter for over a decade—suddenly turning her into a son is a massive shock for most people. Imagine the gossip and judgment their family would face. Beth’s still a kid. Right now, she might think being a boy sounds cool, but what if she can’t handle the stares and whispers later and regrets it? Who’s she gonna blame—you? Or sue? You might feel better saying something, but it’s her family that’ll have to live with the fallout."