CHAPTER 196: CHAPTER 196: A NURSE’S CHARACTER

The sound of footsteps approached, the clicking of heels on the tiled floor was exceptionally clear in the empty corridor, accompanied by a low and concise voice from a phone conversation.

Simon Sterling held a phone against his ear with one hand, while the other hand clasped a thick manila file folder, steadily walking from the corner of the corridor.

He wore a crisp white coat, his figure tall and straight as a pine, his gaze fixed on the front, focused on his thoughts, seemingly unaware of the slightly anxious figure standing at the door of his office.

"...Mm, let’s settle on this treatment plan. The patient’s emotional stability is key, and the night nurse needs to pay special attention."

He finished the last sentence on the phone, then promptly and decisively ended the call.

By this time, he had reached the office door. His gaze still hadn’t shifted.

He took a set of keys from his pocket, accurately found one, inserted it into the lock, twisted his wrist, and the lock made a slight "click" sound.

He pushed open the door, and the office was in total darkness.

He reached out and switched on the light at the entrance, the cold white fluorescent tube instantly lit up, dispelling the darkness, illuminating the interior which was starkly simple, nearly cold, filled with professional books and files.

As he was about to close the door, a figure quickly squeezed in through the gap, moving with a sense of reckless abandon.

Simon Sterling paused in closing the door. Only then did he lift his eyelids, his gaze fell on the uninvited Rhiannon Ford.

His face showed no welcome expression, not even a hint of surprise, he merely looked at her with those deep, unreadable eyes, his tone indifferent as if asking a stranger for directions: "Anything?"

Rhiannon forced herself to ignore the invisible pressure in his gaze, quickly walked to his large and tidy desk and stood still.

She slightly tilted her head back, trying hard to make her expression appear calm and resolute, but her slightly rapid breathing revealed her inner tension.

She took a deep breath, discarding any roundabout introductions, she directly stated her purpose.

"Doctor Sterling, I want to apply to transfer to the psychiatry department, to work under you."

Simon Sterling seemed not to have heard her, or rather, he had heard but didn’t intend to respond immediately.

He bypassed her, walking steadily to the back of the desk, casually placed the file folder on top of a pile of documents awaiting review, then leaned forward to pick up a brain CT image from the desk, held it up to his eyes.

Using the office ceiling light, he began scrutinizing it intently.

His fingers were long, joints distinct, lightly tapped certain areas of the image, as if measuring or confirming something.

After approximately a dozen seconds of silence, just as Rhiannon was about to speak again.

He responded without looking up, his voice steady and undisturbed, its content like ice water being poured.

"The hospital has its protocols and personnel processes, it’s not a playground where you can choose departments based on personal preferences. If you want to join psychiatry, to come here,"

He paused slightly, his gaze still glued to the image.

"Ultimately, it depends on whether I agree to accept you."

Rhiannon was mentally prepared for his rejection, she immediately straightened her back, presenting what she thought was the most substantial reason.

"Shouldn’t you consider accepting me? My father is your mentor, he has always appreciated you. Furthermore,"

She deliberately intensified her tone.

"In this year’s new nurses’ entry assessment, whether in theoretical exams or clinical skills operation, I was indisputably first place. I am the best among these newcomers."

She stared at him closely, hoping to see some indication of softening or recognition in his expression or gaze.

Simon Sterling’s gaze remained fixed on the CT image, his fingertips brushing over a shadowy area, as if that grayscale image was more compelling than her transcript.

His voice transmitted through the thin film, calm and objective, with a touch of anatomical ruthlessness.

"Achieving first in the assessment, this result only proves your good memory, solid grasp of textbook knowledge, and proficient execution of stipulated procedures, which is good, it’s the necessary foundation to become a qualified nurse."

He finally moved the image slightly away, lifting his gaze to formally look at her.

Those eyes were deep like a cold pool, devoid of any admiration for her "first place" title, only pure, nearly harsh scrutiny.

"However, here, what is valued involves more than just these skill metrics. What I value more is a nurse’s intrinsic character. The foremost, and fundamental of them all, is the elimination of all bias, showing equal respect, patience, and care to all patients, regardless of their disease, background, or condition. This, Rhiannon,"

He called her name, every word crystal clear.

"Based on your previous words and actions, you are unable to do this."

Rhiannon was momentarily speechless from his direct and incisive criticism, a trace of embarrassed redness swept across her face, but more than that was a feeling of being affronted and strong indignation.

Simon Sterling didn’t give her a moment to organize her words for a rebuttal. He completely put down the films in his hands, leaned slightly forward, and rested his elbows on the polished table.

His fingers interlocked, eyes intense and firmly locked onto her, his tone carrying an almost brutally frank certainty.

"Rhiannon, have you seriously thought about it? Perhaps you’re not suited for this job at all."

"Do you know what you’re currently most suited to do?"

Rhiannon was caught off guard by his question, and after a moment of shock, she reflexively asked back, "Suited to do what?"

Simon Sterling slightly curled his lips—a minuscule movement devoid of any humor, only a faint trace of sarcasm and aloofness.

"You are best suited to return to the comfort zone your father created for you, continuing as the carefree Miss Ford."

"In your leisure time, you can hang out with a few friends, frequent high-end malls for shopping, enjoy refined afternoon teas, flip through the latest fashion magazines, and discuss trends. That’s the realm that fits your identity and lifestyle habits."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over her nurse’s uniform, which appeared overly pristine and crisp due to a lack of practical work experience, and his tone intensified.

"Not holding a valuable position that’s supposed to be dedicated to saving lives in the medical field, but in reality,"

he mercilessly pointed out, "you haven’t undertaken the corresponding responsibilities or completed any substantive work."

"Who says I haven’t done anything! On what grounds are you so arbitrarily judging me?"

Rhiannon flared up like a firecracker, her voice suddenly rising, her cheeks flushed red with extreme anger and mixed grievance, her chest noticeably heaving with rapid breaths.

"Fine then."

Simon Sterling leaned leisurely back into his chair, hands folded in front of him, looking at her with a somewhat scrutinizing posture, his tone still annoyingly calm.

"Since you deny it, please give a detailed explanation."

"Since you joined the pediatrics department, how many patients have you independently cared for? How many times have you successfully completed a venipuncture or blood draw? Have you participated in or independently handled any emergency situations? Or, even just successfully and patiently soothed a few children crying uncontrollably due to illness or fear?"

Each question from him was like a precise surgical knife, peeling away the self-esteem she was attempting to preserve.

Every question made Rhiannon’s face turn a shade paler, her confidence even weaker.

She opened her mouth, but her throat seemed to be choked by something, unable to make any meaningful sound.

Those explanations lingering on the tip of her tongue, about the polite aloofness of her coworkers, their concerns about her identity, the frustration of having energy yet nowhere to exert it, sounded so weak and feeble now, more like a powerless excuse and complaint.

She found that she couldn’t offer any tangible work achievements to counter his argument.

The office fell into an oppressive silence.

Only the second hand of the round clock on the wall was dutifully ticking away, each tick sounding clear against Rhiannon’s taut nerves.

Simon Sterling watched her face drain of color, her eyes struggling yet speechless, and didn’t press further, not applying any more pressure.

He seemed to have gotten the answer he wanted, or rather, confirmed his prior judgment.

He picked up the CT films he had set aside, his gaze once again absorbed into the black, gray, and white world of images, as if that brief, sharp confrontation had never occurred.

The topic of her work ability and attitude seemed to have concluded for him, reaching a definitive and irrefutable verdict.

Rhiannon bit her lower lip so hard it almost drew blood. Her nails dug deeply into the soft flesh of her palms, bringing a distinct sting.

Intense embarrassment, anger at being belittled, unvoiced grievance, and a strong sense of unwillingness crashed in her heart like turbulent waves.

Looking at Simon Sterling, who was completely engrossed in work, utterly ignoring her existence, as if she were an irrelevant failure, a mixture of stubbornness and a bridge-burning determination surged to her head.

Suddenly, she raised her head forcefully, no longer avoiding his direction, her gaze no longer wandering, but directly and fearlessly looking at Simon Sterling, who was once again absorbed in the films.

Her tone shed all its agitation and impulsiveness, becoming more serious and resolute than ever before, almost as if making a solemn vow, clear words echoing in the quiet office.

"Doctor Sterling, I will prove it to you."

The slightest pause in Simon Sterling’s movement as he examined the films was barely perceptible.

Rhiannon’s voice, usually sweet, now carried an undeniable determination, resonating clearly in the air.

"I will prove to you that I am a qualified nurse."

She paused, took a deep breath as if to expel all the frustration and uncertainty from her chest, and, with all her strength and resolve, solemnly and slowly uttered the last words.

"I also possess the qualities a nurse should have."