sinovels Chapter 1372 He's only interested in medicine
Chapter 1372 He's only interested in medicine
Chapter 1372 He's only interested in medicine
Robert is in a good mood today.
He had just finished a rotator cuff repair surgery that morning on a patient who was the principal violinist of the New York Philharmonic. The surgery went very well, and he was expected to be able to return to the stage in three months. He had no surgeries scheduled for the afternoon, so he had some rare free time. He sat in his private clinic office on Long Island, brewed a pot of West Lake Longjing tea that he had brought back from China, and leisurely scrolled through his phone.
The lawn outside the window was neatly trimmed, the maple trees were all red, and the ground was covered with fallen leaves. This clinic is now not only the number one private sports medicine clinic in the United States, but also a scenic spot in the wealthy Long Island neighborhood.
The clinic has a unique name: "Brother Luo's Clinic".
These five large characters, written in gilded regular script, are displayed on a mahogany plaque and hung in the most prominent position at the entrance of the clinic. A string of red lanterns hangs on each side of the plaque, and they are lit up during festivals. First-time patients often pause, thinking they've gone to the wrong place and mistakenly wandered into a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown.
But Robert was very proud of the name.
"Brother Luo"—how warm, how down-to-earth, how distinctly Chinese! He said he came up with the name himself, inspired by his time studying at Sanbo. The graduate students all called Yang Ping "Professor Yang," but privately, they would say, "Brother Yang is such a nice guy." He thought to himself, "When will I be called 'Brother Luo' too?"
He has now achieved it.
The clinic was decorated entirely in a Chinese style. Upon entering, there was a Chinese screen carved with a pine and crane motif symbolizing longevity. The sofas in the waiting area were made of mahogany, with silk cushions. Several ink paintings hung on the walls, depicting landscapes and flowers and birds. In the corner stood a large vase, a blue-and-white porcelain piece, supposedly from the Qing Dynasty—he didn't know if it was genuine, but it looked beautiful.
The most eye-catching thing is the wall covered with banners, but all of them are the same.
Every time a new patient comes in and sees this wall of banners, they are stunned. Then Robert will go over and explain, "These were all given to me by my patients. They thank me and express their gratitude in this Chinese way."
He would also proudly emphasize: "My teacher is Professor Yang Ping from China, and I am his first direct disciple in North America."
He has said this countless times, but every time he says it, he still feels proud.
Robert's phone rang. It was a message from Marian, the head nurse at the clinic: "Boss, the list of scholarship recipients for learning Chinese this month is out. Would you like to take a look?"
He replied, "Send it to my email, I'll check it in a bit."
The "Chinese learning scholarship" that Marian mentioned is a policy implemented by Robert at the clinic. Any employee who learns Chinese and reaches a certain level can receive a generous reward. As the reward has gradually increased, the reward for level four Chinese is now not a small amount, enough to pay a down payment on a house or buy a nice car, and the reward for level six is even more generous.
This policy has been implemented for several years and has had remarkable results.
Now, everyone in the clinic, from doctors to nurses, from the receptionist to the security guards, speaks fluent Chinese. Marian, a native New Yorker, can now chat with patients in Chinese. Old Tom, the security guard, is a tall Black man who speaks Chinese even better than some Chinese people. Every time he sees a Chinese patient, he greets them in Chinese: "Hello! Welcome to Brother Luo's Clinic!"
Robert often jokes that his clinic is "the best place in New York to read Chinese."
Every time someone greets him with "Hello, Dr. Luo" in Chinese, he feels a little closer to his teacher. Every time he sees those banners of appreciation, he's reminded of his time at Sanbo, and of Yang Ping standing before the operating table. Every time he hears the security guard, Old Tom, say "Wishing you a speedy recovery" to patients in Chinese, he feels that this is the atmosphere he wanted to create—warm, friendly, and humane.
He put down his phone, picked up his teacup, and took a sip. The aroma of West Lake Longjing tea lingered on his lips and teeth. He closed his eyes, savoring the familiar taste.
This was Professor Yang's favorite tea. That time in Sanbo, he accompanied Yang Ping on outpatient rounds, seeing over thirty patients in one morning, leaving him so exhausted he could barely straighten his back. Back in the office, Yang Ping brewed him a cup of tea, saying, "Have some tea to relieve your fatigue." He took a sip and thought he had never tasted anything so delicious. Later, he learned it was West Lake Longjing, a type of Chinese tea.
Before leaving, Yang Ping gave him a box of [something]. He couldn't bear to drink it and kept it locked in his office.
There was a knock on the door, and Marianne poked her head in, her face beaming with barely concealed excitement.
"Boss, a special patient has an appointment and wants to see you."
Robert looked up: "Special? How special?"
Marian lowered her voice, as if she were revealing some incredible secret: "Jack Sullivan."
Robert paused for a moment.
Jake Sullivan is a name almost universally known in the United States. A top Hollywood action star, with three consecutive films grossing over a billion US dollars worldwide, an Oscar winner, and a passionate extreme sports enthusiast, he boasts over 100 million followers on social media, and any photo he posts can go viral.
“What’s wrong with him?” Robert asked.
Marian said, "His knee, which he reportedly injured while filming a new movie, has been operated on twice before, but it's started hurting again. His agent contacted us and said they'd like you to take a look in person."
Robert put down his teacup and stood up: "Let them in."
A few minutes later, Jack Sullivan walked into Robert's office.
The Hollywood star was dressed in a simple black T-shirt, baseball cap, and sunglasses, but his aura was undeniable. The moment he entered, his gaze was drawn to the wall of honorary banners. He stood there, head tilted back, staring at it for a long while.
"What is this?" he asked with curiosity.
Robert laughed and said, "These were given to me by my patients. They express their gratitude in this way; it's Chinese culture."
Sullivan turned to look at him, a hint of surprise in his eyes: "Chinese culture?"
His idol is Bruce Lee, so he really likes Chinese culture.
Robert shrugged: "My teacher is Chinese!"
Sullivan sat down on the sofa, took off his sunglasses, looked at Robert, and said bluntly, "Dr. Robert, my knee is acting up again. I've had two surgeries before, but it's been hurting more and more lately. The MRI showed that my meniscus is in trouble again. I came to see you because I heard you're the best doctor in this field."
Robert didn't answer immediately. He walked to his desk, turned on his computer, and pulled up Sullivan's video footage. He stared at the screen and watched it intently.
The office was quiet. Marian stood in the doorway, barely daring to breathe. Sullivan's agent sat on another sofa, nervously watching Robert's expression.
Finally, Robert raised his head.
“Your meniscus is indeed in trouble again,” he said. “And it’s in a bad position, the tear is complicated, and it’s difficult for a conventional meniscus suture to heal.”
Sullivan frowned. "Then what do we do?"
Robert looked at him.
“However, my teacher taught me a special suturing method specifically for this situation,” he said. “Using this special suturing method, combined with biological agents that promote repair, the success rate is very high. This method is still in the clinical trial stage, but I have already done more than a dozen cases, and the results have been very good.”
Sullivan's eyes lit up: "Who is your teacher?"
"His name is Yang Ping, and he works at Sanbo Hospital in China."
Sullivan exclaimed in surprise, "Professor Yang Ping? Professor Yang Ping, who won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine twice?"
"Exactly!" Robert said with undisguised pride.
"Dr. Luo, I'm entrusting my knees to you."
"This was the right choice." The surgery was scheduled for three days later.
For the past three days, Robert's clinic has been practically besieged by the media. Someone leaked the news that Jack Sullivan was going to have surgery at "Brother Robert's Clinic." Reporters flocked there, setting up their cameras and microphones outside the clinic, waiting to capture a big story.
But Robert wasn't worried at all. He went to work as usual, saw patients as usual, and chatted with the security guard, Old Tom, in Chinese as usual. When a reporter wanted to interview him, he would say in Chinese, "Sorry, I don't speak English," and then leave the reporter hanging.
The reporters looked at each other, wondering why the American doctor spoke Chinese and didn't speak English.
In the operating room, everything was ready.
Sullivan lay on the operating table, already anesthetized. The nurses and assistants were in their positions, and the monitors beeped rhythmically.
Robert put on his surgical gown and gloves, stood by the operating table, looked at the patient's knee joint, took a deep breath, and then reached out his hand.
"Let's begin."
Under the operating lights, he made an incision, inserted the scope, explored, and located the object in one smooth motion. His eyes were fixed on the screen, which displayed images of the inside of the knee joint: complex tears in the meniscus, wear and tear on the cartilage, and inflammation of the synovium.
Besides suturing the meniscus, he also needed cartilage transplantation, but these were nothing to Robert.
Two hours later, Robert put down the equipment and looked up.
"All right!"
The assistant beside him looked at the screen and exclaimed, "Perfect!"
Robert walked over to Sullivan, glanced at the monitor's readings—heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen—everything was normal. He told Sullivan, "The surgery is over, it went very smoothly. Take good care of yourself, you'll be back to making movies soon."
"Thank you so much." Sullivan was very excited.
As Sullivan stepped out of the operating room, his agent approached him, looking anxious, and asked, "How is he?"
Robert nodded: "Going well, now it's just a matter of recovery."
The agent held his hand and kept thanking him.
When Robert got home that evening, he sent Yang Ping a message: "Professor, I performed surgery on Jack Sullivan today using the method you taught me, and it went very smoothly."
After sending the message, he put down his phone, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.
After a long time, his phone rang. He picked it up and saw three words from Yang Ping:
"understood."
He looked at those three words; this was his teacher, a man of few words.
The next morning, Robert appeared at the clinic again.
As soon as he entered, he saw the security guard, Old Tom, greeting a patient in Chinese: "Hello! Welcome to Brother Luo's clinic! How are you feeling today?"
The patient was an elderly Chinese woman who was clearly taken aback. She hesitated for a moment before replying, "I...I'm fine, thank you."
Old Tom smiled and said, "You're welcome! I wish you a speedy recovery!"
Robert walked over, patted Old Tom on the shoulder, and said in Chinese, "Old Tom, your Chinese is getting better and better."
Old Tom grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "Boss, I used the reward you gave me last time to make a down payment, and now I have my own house."
Robert nodded: "Okay, keep studying. Try to pass the HSK Level 6 exam next year, and I'll give you another sum of money then so you can pay off your mortgage."
Old Tom got excited: "Really? Boss, you wait and see."
Robert said, "Of course it's true. When have I ever lied to you?"
As he entered the office, Marian was already waiting there. She handed him a document and said, "Boss, this is the list of people who received awards for learning Chinese this month. There are eight people in total, and I need your signature."
Robert took it and looked at it. Of the eight people, there were two nurses, three rehabilitation therapists, a receptionist, an accountant, and a kitchen helper. Each person's information included study time, exam scores, and reward amounts.
He looked at the numbers and mentally calculated the bonus. He didn't care; he earned hundreds of millions of dollars a year, why would he care about such a small amount?
He picked up a pen, quickly signed his name, then handed the document to Marian and said, "Tell them the money will be paid next week."
Marian smiled: "Boss, you're such a generous boss."
He shook his head: "It's not that I'm being generous, it's that they're working hard. I'm just giving them a chance. Whether they can seize it or not is up to them."
After Marianne left, he sat alone in his office, looking out at the Long Island sunshine, and a strange sense of satisfaction welled up inside him.
This clinic is his brainchild and his pride.
It's not just because it's ranked number one in the US, nor is it just because of its celebrity patients. It's because of the atmosphere here, an atmosphere he personally created—warm, welcoming, and humane. Everyone who enters, regardless of their background or status, can feel this atmosphere.
All of this originated from that distant Chinese city, and from Professor Yang.
A week later, Jack Sullivan came for a follow-up examination.
He was using a cane, but he was in good spirits. Seeing Robert, he smiled and said, "Dr. Robert, I feel great."
Robert examined him and reviewed the new imaging data: "He's recovering very well, keep it up."
Sullivan looked at him and suddenly asked, "Dr. Luo, can I meet your teacher, Professor Yang Ping?"
Robert paused for a moment: "You want to see him?"
Sullivan said, "I've heard he's a god-like figure, and I'd love to meet him."
Robert was silent for a moment, then smiled and said, "I'm sorry, he's only interested in medicine, so... he won't see you."
Sullivan was very disappointed.