Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2144: Chapter 1795: Only Climb, Never Mind the Height! (Part 2)

He just walked in, rolled up his sleeves, and began helping move boxes.

At eight, Tang Shun arrived, carrying a big bag of buns and soy milk. It was the first time for the Germans to try buns; Clara took a bite, and the juice splashed onto her white gown. She looked down and said something in German.

"She said ’delicious, but hard to handle’." Manstein translated.

At noon, the instruments were mostly in place. Manstein stood in the center of the laboratory, looking around, his expression like witnessing the birth of his child.

He said, "Professor, this animal laboratory here is better than the one I had in Germany."

Yang Ping said, "Your German laboratory is one of the most advanced worldwide."

"The equipment isn’t as good." Manstein said, "But here, the windows face south, monkeys can see the sun. Germany is too gloomy, animals get easily depressed. This is very important."

Yang Ping followed his gaze towards the windows. Nandu’s sunlight streamed through the glass, spilling onto M7’s cage. M7 lay basking in the sunlight, squinting its eyes, seemingly enjoying it.

"It really is sunbathing." Yang Ping said.

"Animals need sunlight." Fritz came over, unusually saying something more, "Not just a physiological need, but a psychological one too. Depressed monkeys recover slowly; this is proven."

Yang Ping looked at the monkey that had gotten airsick, vomited twice, flew halfway across the earth from Germany to China, now sunbathing. Sunbathing, squinting its eyes, mouth slightly lifted if monkeys have mouths. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Yang Ping asked, "Fritz, which laboratory were you in before?"

"Heidelberg University, for twenty-two years." He answered.

"Why come here?"

Fritz was silent for a while, then pointed at M7.

"Because of it, I’ve seen many monkeys in my twenty-two years in this field. Paralyzed, with tumors, used for experiments and then euthanized. Every morning I enter the animal room, their gaze is always the same, fearful. But M7 is different. Starting the eighth week after surgery, its gaze changed, not fearful, but expectant. It anticipated standing up, walking, living."

He paused.

"I want to see a paralyzed monkey run again in my lifetime, not for papers, but for their gaze."

Yang Ping looked at Fritz, this white-haired German elder, an animal caretaker of twenty-two years, moving from Heidelberg to Nandu—not for professional titles, not for funding, not for things written on paper, but for a gaze.

Yang Ping said, "It will! It will run again."

In the afternoon, Manstein gathered everyone for a short meeting.

"There are many things ahead, we don’t have time to adapt to life in China." He wrote on the whiteboard, "First, long-term follow-up of M7 and other experimental group monkeys, daily behavior data recording, weekly electrophysiology, biweekly imaging. Second, design of the second batch of primate experiments, expanding the sample size to twenty-four, increasing different injury segments and severity. Third—"

He wrote down a big number: 50%→70%.

"We need to raise this number. 62% isn’t enough, 70% is the next target. How to achieve it? We discuss!"

The laboratory quieted down.

Then Hans raised his hand.

"Change the administration window, the current window is 48 hours post-injury, but we found in mouse experiments that different types of injuries have different optimal windows. Complete injuries need earlier intervention, incomplete can be delayed. If we can individualize the window..."

"Individualizing the window means we need precise judgment of injury type pre-surgery." Manstein interrupted him, "This is feasible in primates, but when it comes to clinical practice, the average time from injury to admission is 6 to 8 hours, 48-hour window is feasible, pushing further, time isn’t enough, we need to start researching and fitting clinical reality now."

"Then develop rapid diagnostic tools." Clara said, "One that can quickly judge injury type and optimal intervention window in the emergency room. I’ve checked the literature, there are three candidate molecules..."

"Wait." Yang Ping spoke, everyone looked at him.

"On your first day here, you’re already discussing how to raise 50% to 70%, how to develop rapid diagnostic tools, how to individualize the window." Yang Ping said, "Don’t you plan to adapt to the environment first?"

Manstein smiled, "Professor, we’ve adapted for ten hours on the plane, no need to spend more time adapting to China, behind closed doors, I feel there’s not much difference between China and Germany, no need to adapt."

"What about the jet lag?" freewebnoveℓ.com

"Jet lag can be adjusted in the laboratory."

Yang Ping looked at these Germans, suddenly understanding why Manstein is called a genius scientist, particularly smart, nearly obsessive focus. This focus isn’t later trained, it’s in his bones.

"Alright," Yang Ping said, "Continue your discussion, but I have one condition."

"What condition?"

"Rest at least one day a week. Not lying in bed, but going out, seeing the city. You moved from Germany, not to replicate the German laboratory in China. It’s to do experiments Germany couldn’t do and also to add a possibility to your life."

Manstein thought for a moment, "Rest on Saturday."

"Saturday won’t work, Saturday I’ll take you to eat Sichuan cuisine."

Manstein’s expression was like hearing a death sentence.

"Just kidding." Yang Ping said, "Saturday we eat Hunan cuisine."

The whole laboratory burst into laughter, Manstein shook his head in mock despair and added another line to the whiteboard:

"Fourth: Every Saturday, Professor Yang treats."

Yang Ping looked at the line, not arguing.

At six in the evening, when Yang Ping was preparing to leave work, he passed by the west side of the institute, and the lights were still on.

He pushed the door open and found Manstein sitting alone at the computer, the screen showing a microscopic image of spinal tissue sections. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice Yang Ping coming in.

"Not leaving yet?" Yang Ping asked.

Manstein turned around, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes, "Professor, I’m looking at the sixteenth-week section of M7. Look here—"

He pointed to an area on the screen.

"The axon density in this area tripled compared to the eighth week. This might explain why M7’s gait is still abnormal, the nerve connections have been reestablished, but the distribution is uneven."

Yang Ping leaned closer to the screen, looked for a long time.

"This is the gap between 14% and 62%, at 14%, we only care about ’whether there is a connection’. At 62%, we start caring about ’whether the connection is even’. When it reaches 70%, 80%, 90%, we will care about ’whether the connection is perfect’. Each step forward, the standard raises a step, the issue deepens a layer. This is the truth of science, you think you’re near the finish line, but actually just seeing the foot of the next mountain."

Manstein leaned back on the chair, looking at the ceiling.

"Professor, do you think we can see 100% in our lifetime?"

"100% of what?"

"100% recovery, a person with complete spinal injury running again, jumping high, playing basketball, can we see it in our lifetime?"

Yang Ping was silent for a long time.

"Honestly, I don’t know, but I’m certain about one thing."

"What?"

"If we don’t do it, we definitely won’t see it. If we do, maybe someone in their lifetime will see it. That person might not be you, not me, might be some child not yet born. But every step is towards that direction, no one’s steps are wasted."

Manstein looked at Yang Ping, didn’t speak for a while.

"Professor, you have more patience than I do."

"Just keep climbing, don’t ask how high the mountain is!"

"What poetry!"

Yang Ping stood up, patted Manstein’s shoulder.

"Let’s go, that’s enough for today. Tomorrow, we continue."

Manstein turned off the computer, stood up, grabbed his coat.

The two of them walked out of the laboratory together, passing through the corridor where sound-activated lights turned on and off one by one. By the time they exited the institute’s main door, it was already dark, street lights were on, and the distinctive lively sounds of Nandu’s night could be heard in the distance.