sinovels Chapter 1403 True Teachings
Chapter 1403 True Teachings
Chapter 1403 True Teachings
On a flight from Southern Metropolis Daily to New York, Gao Yuan sat by the window, holding a thick stack of medical records in his hand.
This was material he had reviewed on the plane: a case of simultaneous rupture of the anterior and posterior cruciate ligaments, combined with medial collateral ligament injury, multiple ligament tears in the knee joint, and a meniscus tear. The patient's knee was almost in a subluxation state, indicating the extreme force of the injury. This type of injury is considered a "catastrophic injury" in the field of sports medicine, not because it is life-threatening, but because it often means the end of an athlete's career.
The plane crossed the terminator over the North Pacific, and the clouds outside the window gradually changed from deep blue to gold. Gao Yuan closed the medical record and rubbed his eyes. He had already mentally rehearsed every step of the surgery countless times: the choice of approach, the location of the tunnel, the control of graft tension, and the precision of the fixed angle. Every detail had been meticulously considered. With his eyes closed, he simulated the arthroscopic procedure in his mind, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the armrest, as if plucking some kind of string that only he could hear.
When he arrived in the United States, it was already evening local time. A flight attendant came over and quietly asked if he wanted dinner. Gao Yuan opened his eyes and only ordered a cup of black coffee. He needed to adjust his biological clock before landing because he had surgery to perform the next day.
Arrival hall of Terminal 1 at John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York.
Robert stood outside the fence, holding a sign with Chinese characters written on it in black marker: "Welcome Dr. Gao Yuan for your guidance." He glanced at the automatic door every few seconds, the frequency betraying his eagerness.
Standing next to him was a young Chinese student, Chen, a visiting doctor at HSS. Chen looked at the sign in Robert's hand, hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help but say, "Dr. Robert, you don't actually need to hold up the sign. Director Gao recognizes you."
“I know!” Robert replied in perfect Mandarin. “But it’s a matter of etiquette. You Chinese people say, ‘Isn’t it a pleasure to have friends coming from afar?’ I can’t let them get lost after they get off the plane.”
Xiao Chen was stunned for a moment. He had been in the United States for three months and had heard about Dr. Robert's Chinese proficiency before, but every time he heard it, he was still shocked. It wasn't just about standard pronunciation and correct grammar, but about that natural, effortless fluency, that precise grasp of the feel of the Chinese language, such as the authentic colloquial expression "找不着北" (meaning "can't find north"). It wasn't something he learned, but something he used.
Robert woke up at five o'clock this morning, an hour earlier than usual. Before the alarm even went off, he was already in the bathroom shaving. His girlfriend was still asleep when she turned over and mumbled, "What time is it?" He replied, "It's still early, you can keep sleeping," and then quietly closed the bathroom door.
When his girlfriend woke up later, she found Robert had already made coffee and prepared breakfast in the kitchen. She paused for a moment, then laughed and said, "Robert, are you going to pick up your brother from the airport, or are you going on a date?"
Robert thought for a moment and replied seriously, "To pick up my brother! But it'll be even more grand than a date."
For him, Gao Yuan was not only a colleague, a partner, or a fellow student on his medical journey, but also, in Chinese terms, a hero cherishes a hero.
The automatic doors opened and closed, and wave after wave of passengers poured out. Some pushed luggage carts piled high with suitcases taller than a person; some led children; some carried huge backpacks covered with small flags from various countries.
Robert searched through the crowd for that familiar face—a Chinese man in his forties, whose eyes would squint slightly when he smiled.
Gao Yuan's flight was CZ699, a direct flight from Nanjing, the provincial capital, to New York, with a flight time of nearly sixteen hours. The route from Nanjing Airport to JFK Airport spans half the globe. Robert installed a flight tracking app on his phone last night and checked it frequently throughout the day.
Xiao Chen stood to the side, watching the crowds come and go with a bored expression. He had been studying at HSS for three months, and this was the first time he had seen Dr. Robert so unsettled. Dr. Robert was usually very calm during surgery, occasionally cracking jokes with the doctors and nurses.
Today he was indeed like a child, restless and agitated. Xiao Chen also knew that Dr. Robert and Director Gao Yuan had a deep friendship, like brothers.
"Dr. Robert, is Director Gao's flight delayed?" Xiao Chen asked.
Robert glanced down at his phone: "No! On time. We've already landed. But 'haste makes waste,' international arrivals require going through customs and collecting luggage, which will take at least half an hour."
Another twenty minutes passed.
Robert's gaze suddenly froze. He saw a person walking out of the automatic doors. The person was short, wearing a light dark gray jacket, pulling a black carry-on suitcase, and carrying a laptop bag over their shoulder. They were walking towards him.
lofty!
Robert recognized his Chinese brother from afar and strode briskly toward Gao Yuan. At that moment, Gao Yuan also saw Robert and stopped in his tracks.
"My good brother, I'm so glad to see you again. How are you?"
"Very good, how about you, brother."
Their hands clasped together firmly for several seconds. Then Robert patted Gao Yuan's shoulder twice, insisting on carrying Gao Yuan's laptop bag and pulling his luggage, making it difficult for Xiao Chen, who had come specifically to help with the luggage, to keep up.
"Brother Gao, you must be tired from your journey!" Robert said, his voice clear and his pronunciation accurate and natural. "I truly understand the joy of having friends coming from afar today."
Gao Yuan looked at Robert and laughed. Every time they met, Robert would show off his Chinese in front of him, and each time he could reach a new level. This time he even brought up "A friend comes from afar," and specifically emphasized the word "joy," indicating that he didn't just recite it, but truly understood its meaning.
“Your Chinese has improved again,” Gao Yuan said.
“Learning is like rowing against the current; if you don’t advance, you fall behind,” Robert said with a smile. “If I don’t improve, you’ll laugh at me next time we meet.”
"How was the journey?" he then asked.
"It's alright. I reviewed the case and took a nap," Gao Yuan said.
"Are the clouds in the Arctic beautiful? I've heard that 'the most beautiful scenery is found at the most dangerous peaks,' so the clouds in the Arctic must have a unique charm."
Xiao Chen finally ran over, panting, and called out, "Hello, Director Gao." He had been stunned for several seconds by Dr. Robert's words, "A friend has come from afar," and by the time he came to his senses, the two had already shaken hands.
The three people walked towards the parking lot.
Robert's car was a dark gray Cadillac. He opened the passenger door, gestured for Gao Yuan to enter, and Gao Yuan smiled and got in. Xiao Chen then helped Gao Yuan's suitcase into the trunk and sat in the back seat.
Robert didn't ask him where he wanted to go first; he drove straight to the hospital. He didn't need to ask, because if he were Gao Yuan, he would have chosen to go to the hospital first as well. This choice didn't need discussion, just like when there's bleeding during surgery, there's no need to discuss whether to stop the bleeding first or take pictures first—the answer is self-evident.
The car was quiet; the radio wasn't on, and neither of them spoke. Gao Yuan leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. Robert knew he wasn't asleep; he had simply closed his eyes, slowly gathering the energy that had been depleted from the long flight.
Robert drove very steadily, signaling his turn before each lane change and controlling his braking very well.
Upon arriving at the hospital, the two went directly from the underground parking garage to the sports medicine center.
Only the on-duty doctors and nurses were in the ward, and they greeted Director Gao, who had come from afar. The office door was open, and on the viewing screen hung an MRI of the patient's knee joint, a coronal, T2-weighted image. The remnant of the anterior cruciate ligament looked like a torn old rope, while the area in place of the posterior cruciate ligament was blank. Gao Yuan walked over and stood in front of the viewing screen to examine it.
He had only seen electronic images before; this was the first time he had seen the patient's films. Seeing the films put Gao Yuan at ease. Robert leaned against the doorframe, neither going in nor speaking.
Fifteen minutes later, Gao Yuan turned around.
“There’s still a piece left at the tibial insertion point of the posterior cruciate ligament,” he said.
“Yes!” Robert nodded. “It was left by the doctor who performed the cleaning surgery last time. It’s about one centimeter square.”
"It works! The residual end can be used for positioning."
"That's what I think too. If there are remnants, then positioning the remnants is the most natural approach, but Nandu is also a large city."
Their conversation was like a game of ping-pong, the ball bouncing back and forth without ever hitting the ground. They didn't speak in complete sentences, but in keywords and fragments, yet they understood each other perfectly. It was a language only those who had spent countless nights together, failed countless times together, and climbed out of those failures together could share.
"I haven't had dinner on the plane yet; I really can't stand that kind of food," Gao Yuan said frankly.
Robert nodded: "How about I take you to eat pasta now?"
Robert took Gao Yuan to a tiny Italian restaurant in a narrow alley in the East Village. It had no sign, and the storefront was so narrow that only one person could pass at a time. The owner was an elderly Italian man with gray hair. Seeing Robert enter, he didn't say anything but led them directly to a table at the very back. That table was against the wall, and on the wall hung an old photograph of the Bay of Naples.
"Have you been here many times?" Gao Yuan asked.
“Once a month,” Robert said. “I’ve been eating it for over ten years.”
The owner didn't bring a menu; he simply placed a knife and fork in front of each of them and then turned and went back to the kitchen. About twenty minutes later, he brought out two plates of pasta. Gao Yuan's plate had an extra basil leaf on it, while Robert's plate did not.
“You eat basil, but he doesn’t,” the old man said to Gao Yuan in broken Chinese, then pointed at Robert. “That’s what he said. I learned my Chinese from him. Can you understand him?” He then laughed, a smug laugh, as if he had told a huge joke.
Gao Yuan glanced at Robert, who shrugged, meaning, "You're right, he learned from me. His Chinese is terrible, but his cooking skills are impeccable."
“I understand.” Gao Yuan nodded affirmatively.
"Thank you, thank you, Chinese person."
The boss gave a thumbs up.
Gao Yuan took a bite of noodles and nodded again, agreeing that the cooking skills were indeed impeccable.
Halfway through the meal, Robert suddenly put down his fork and looked at Gao Yuan.
"Brilliant!" he said.
"Ok!"
"How do you plan to do the presentation tomorrow?"
Gao Yuan put down his fork as well. He knew Robert wasn't asking about the surgical plan. They had already discussed the plan many times in the video, and every detail—the location of the tunnel, the choice of graft, the method of fixation—had been finalized. That wasn't what Robert was asking; he wanted to know if Professor Yang had given any instructions.
“Professor Yang said something to me last time,” Gao Yuan said.
"What did you say?" Robert pricked up his ears. He knew that the "true teachings" were often just a single sentence, and he had received them in this way many times.
He said, "You have completely mastered the new method, but you must remember that the technology is not about proving that you are better than others, but about proving that the patient made the right choice in choosing you."
Robert remained silent.
It was late, and there were very few people in the restaurant. The couple at the next table were chatting and laughing quietly, an old song was playing on the radio behind the bar, and the sound of spatulas clattering came from the kitchen.
“That patient chose you, and they didn’t make a mistake.” Robert repeated, his voice low, as if confirming something with himself.
“That’s right!” Gao Yuan said. “So tomorrow’s demonstration isn’t for those people, it’s for that patient. Whether those people watch it or not is unimportant.”
Robert nodded, picked up his fork again, and finished the rest of the noodles on his plate.
The two of them fell silent; they didn't need to. The words were spoken, like the most crucial step in surgery being completed; all that remained was the finishing touches. No further discussion was needed; they simply needed to quietly and methodically complete the task.
As I stepped out of the restaurant, the New York night breeze greeted me, carrying the city's unique scents: the fumes of hot dogs, the metallic smell of the subway entrance, the mist from the Hudson River in the distance, and an indescribable restlessness that belonged to the "city that never sleeps."
The two men stood at the restaurant entrance. Robert lit a cigarette. Gao Yuan took out a piece of chewing gum from his pocket, broke it into two pieces, put one in his own mouth, and offered the other to Robert. Robert didn't take it, but waved his cigarette, indicating, "I'm smoking." Gao Yuan rewrapped the piece of gum and put it back in his pocket.
"You should quit smoking," Gao Yuan said.
“You’ve said it many times,” Robert said.
"Because you've been smoking all the time!" Gao Yuan said bluntly.
“Okay, bro!” Robert stubbed out his cigarette.
Gao Yuan handed him a piece of chewing gum.