dical Center, Outside Alice Grey's Upgraded VIP Ward
"Holy shit!" Adam exclaid, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Christina smirked. "Now you understand, right? Do you still need
to take care of her?"
"…" Adam's mouth twitched, and he found himself at a loss for words.
His gaze drifted back into the VIP ward. There, on the bed, Alice Grey rested her head against a man's chest, her hands draped across him in a cozy, affectionate pose—like an old married couple fast asleep. The man, dressed in a white coat with a round, moon-like face, was none other than the chubby little George O'Malley.
This is caregiving on a whole new level, Adam thought. Clearly, Christina didn't need to stick around anymore.
"What's going on here?" Adam finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.
Sure, he'd jokingly ntioned the story of Yin Liting and Yang Buhui to George before, and he was aware of wilder tales from Japan. He knew Alice Grey, with her Alzheir's, had mistaken George for her husband—redith's father. And George did have so history with redith. But Adam had only been teasing, nothing more. He never imagined things would escalate like this.
George had checked into the hospital that afternoon, had surgery that evening, and now—just hours later—he was sharing a bed with Dr. Grey. What kind of magic does this guy have with won? Adam wondered. So sort of charm aura? A best-friend-turned-backstabber move?
"I'm just as shocked as you are," Christina said, rolling her eyes. "I was taking good care of Dr. Grey, never leaving her side. But then George barged in, and when Dr. Grey scolded him again, he suddenly lost it."
"And then?" Adam asked, his brow furrowing.
He didn't like this vibe. Dr. Grey was a patient—her outbursts weren't intentional. George, as a doctor and a junior, shouldn't be picking fights with her. If you don't want to get yelled at, just stay away, Adam thought. Why provoke her? This was irresponsible, both to the dical community and to humanity's well-being. Silently, Adam resolved to give George a serious talking-to later.
"I tried to stop him," Christina said quickly, sensing Adam's disapproval. Their goals aligned perfectly, and she could read his displeasure instantly. "But he snapped too fast, too emotional. He wouldn't listen to ."
"Just tell
what happened," Adam interrupted, cutting to the chase.
Christina took a breath. "George said he didn't like how Dr. Grey treated redith and that he wouldn't let her keep doing it. I imdiately tried to shove him out, but then Dr. Grey's attitude flipped. She stopped scolding him and gently agreed."
Adam's eyes narrowed. "And then?"
"Then George got cocky," Christina continued. "He said Dr. Grey shouldn't treat him like that either. She nodded, scooted over on the bed, patted the spot next to her, and told him to co sleep with her. And, well, here we are."
Adam glanced back at the bed, where George and Dr. Grey were snuggled up together. "So, her mory's gone back to when they were newlyweds?"
"Probably," Christina sighed. "The stimulation must've flipped her mory."
Adam's frown deepened. Alzheir's patients didn't have static mories—they could shift to different life stages at any mont. Most of the ti, their perception didn't match reality, hence the term "senile dentia." Occasionally, they might sync up with the present and seem lucid, but that was rare. Dr. Grey had only had Alzheir's for a few years—her fifty-plus years of prior mories made up over ninety percent of her life.
Christina caught Adam's drift. For them, Dr. Grey's value lay in her decades of surgical expertise, honed day after day in the operating room. Ideally, her mory would stay as recent as possible—more years ant more refined skills and knowledge. But now, triggered by George, she'd reverted to her early married days with redith's father. According to redith, her dad left when she was five, and her mom raised her alone for the next twenty-plus years. That ant Dr. Grey might have lost over two decades of experience—the legendary era when she'd pushed herself to the limit, perfected her craft, and invented groundbreaking techniques.
If her dical knowledge had regressed along with her mory, the loss would be catastrophic.
"Damn George!" Christina muttered. At first, she'd been amused by his audacity, not thinking it through. But now, with Adam's nudge, the gravity hit her, and she couldn't laugh anymore. She cursed under her breath, genuinely upset.
"All we can do now is hope her dical knowledge and experience haven't shifted," Adam said, his voice heavy. "We'll check tomorrow. If it's unchanged, great. But if it has, we need to block George from ever getting near her again."
"Got it!" Christina said through gritted teeth. "Next ti I see him anywhere close, I'll kick him out myself."
Adam nodded. He knew she wasn't joking. A legend like Dr. Grey ant different things to different people. For struggling students, shadowing her might teach them a little. But for ambitious, gifted prodigies like them, keeping up with her—learning directly from a living legend—was a once-in-a-lifeti chance that'd make any doctor green with envy.
"Adam, how are we going to confirm this tomorrow?" Christina asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Legends were legends because they were untouchable. Even if Dr. Grey's knowledge had rewound twenty years, she'd still been a rising star back then. Most people wouldn't be able to gauge her level.
"Don't worry," Adam said with a smile. "I've got this. Pinpointing the exact year of her mory might be tricky, but figuring out if she's stuck twenty-plus years in the past? That's a piece of cake."
"…" Christina froze for a second.
She'd almost forgotten—Adam's future potential was anyone's guess, but right now, in this era of dicine, you could count on one hand the people his age who outshone him. Dr. Grey was a legend, sure, but not the only one.
She nodded, trusting him completely. Then a thought struck her, and she looked at him, half-amazed, half-skeptical. "Wait—you can really figure out the specific year her mory's in?"
Adam had said it'd be "tricky," not impossible. That was like the difference between cooking stewed tofu and crafting delicate silken tofu—leagues apart in difficulty. If he could pull that off, it'd be mind-blowing.
"Heh," Adam chuckled, saying nothing more.
"Hiss," Christina gasped, sucking in a sharp breath. Any thought of outdoing Adam evaporated. But she wasn't discouraged. Standing in awe of a giant, aiming high and landing in the middle, was better than settling for less and getting nothing. Against soone as terrifyingly brilliant as Adam, first place was out of reach. Second wasn't bad, though. That could still be legendary.
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