Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2152: Chapter 1799: Speaking One’s Mind

The day Manstein went to Stockholm, a moderate rain fell in Nandu.

After an eleven-hour flight, Manstein hardly closed his eyes on the plane. He went through his presentation PPT three times, making one or two minor changes each time. Sitting next to him was a Swedish businessman. Seeing him constantly fiddling with his computer, the businessman couldn’t help but ask, "Are you going to Stockholm for a conference?"

"Kind of!" Manstein replied.

"What conference? Related to the Nobel Prize?"

"An event during the Nobel Prize award week." free𝑤ebnovel.com

The Swedish businessman’s expression immediately changed. He looked at Manstein, then at the densely-packed charts on his screen, hesitating, "Are you... a laureate?"

"No, I’m speaking on behalf of someone else."

"On behalf of someone else?" The Swedish businessman obviously didn’t understand.

Manstein smiled and did not explain further, and the businessman did not ask again. As the plane broke through the clouds, the window outside showed an endless expanse of blue. Manstein leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and all that filled his mind was Yang Ping’s words — "I don’t need a third Nobel Prize, I need a third impossibility to become possible."

He pondered how many people in the world could say such words after a second Nobel Prize? It was not feigned humility; he genuinely didn’t care. It wasn’t posturing; he genuinely felt there were more important things to do.

When the plane landed at Stockholm Arlanda Airport, the local time was 3 PM. Winter days in Northern Europe turn dark early, and the three o’clock sun was already slanting in the western sky, casting the entire airport in a pale golden light.

Manstein retrieved his luggage and exited the arrivals hall. Outside, someone held up a sign with "Manstein" written on it. The holder was a young Swedish girl, wearing a black coat, with blonde hair tied in a low ponytail.

"Professor Manstein?" she asked in English.

"That’s me!"

"I’m the reception staff sent by the Nobel Prize Committee. Please follow me; the car is outside."

Manstein followed her into a black business car. The car was quiet, with only the low hum of the engine and the whirring sound of the heater. He gazed out the window as the streets of Stockholm slowly receded outside the car window. Old buildings, clear waters, and a clean sky; this was a city he had visited many times, but this time, it felt different.

Previously, he was the star of the show; this time, he was an agent.

The hotel was the oldest in Stockholm, located in the heart of the old city, with views of the palace and Melar Lake. Manstein had stayed here the year he received his own Nobel Prize. That year, the hotel entrance was swarming with reporters, and he could hardly step outside.

This time, there were no reporters at the entrance. He collected his room card from the front desk, dragged his suitcase upstairs himself, opened the door, and hung his clothes in the wardrobe. Everything was quiet.

Manstein placed his phone on the bedside table, walked to the window, and looked out at Melar Lake. The lake shimmered in the winter sunlight, a few seagulls circling above, occasionally letting out a clear call.

He recalled the year he accepted the Nobel Prize, also in the same season, same city, same hotel, standing in front of the same window. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Manstein did not adjust to the time difference; he took a shower, changed into clean clothes, then sat at the desk and went through the PPT once more. This time, he made no modifications. Because Yang Ping had said that the first version was the final version.

He wondered why Yang Ping never made changes? Not because what he wrote was perfect, but because he had a strange intuition, knowing when to stop. Most scientists would continue to make changes until the last moment, right up to the second before the submission button was pressed. Yang Ping wouldn’t. He wrote, reviewed it once, revised it once, then said, "Enough, any more changes would be a waste of time."

Manstein didn’t understand this confidence before, but now he began to. It wasn’t confidence; it was a clear judgment of "what is important." The important things were already in the first version; further changes were merely patchwork. Rather than spending time patching, it was better to focus on the next task.

The presentation was scheduled for the afternoon of the third day of the award week.

The venue was the main auditorium of the Karolinska Institute, the place where the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine winner is announced every year. When Manstein entered the auditorium, about two hundred people were already seated inside. With one sweeping glance, he recognized many familiar faces: Nobel laureates, institute professors, scientists from various countries, and editors from several top journals.

He found his seat in the front row. A note was attached to the back of the seat: "Prof. Manstein, representing Prof. Yang Ping."

"Representing Professor Yang Ping."

Looking at this line, a strange feeling welled up inside him. He was not Yang Ping; he could never replace Yang Ping. But sitting in this seat, wearing a suit Yang Ping never wore, delivering a report Yang Ping couldn’t personally give, he had to do his best, not for himself but to not disappoint the one thousands of miles away.

The host’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the series of events during the Nobel Prize award week. This afternoon’s special presentation is titled ’From Theory to Practice: The Application of 3D Guided Genes in Spinal Cord Injury Repair.’ The speaker—Professor Manstein, representing Academician Yang Ping."

Applause erupted!