The moment he set down the needle holder, Yan Feifan glanced at the clock on the wall.
4:26 PM. The surgery had lasted seven hours and thirty-four minutes.
The surgery was over!
As a wave of relief washed over Yan Feifan, an unstoppable tide of exhaustion swept through his body.
He swayed involuntarily, and his vision blurred and darkened.
However, after a couple of seconds, Yan Feifan steadied himself, and his vision cleared.
Yan Feifan looked up at Wang Chuan, who had taken two steps toward him, and said proudly, "See? I didn't go straight into shutdown mode."
"I made it."
Wang Chuan, who had halted his advance, said with amusement, "What's there to brag about? Look at you. Even if you haven't shut down, you're pretty much running on fumes."
"Hurry up and get to the locker room to rest."
Yan Feifan glanced at Zhu Jian, signaling for him to handle the rest, then stumbled away from the operating table, his legs feeling as if he were walking on cotton.
