sinovels Chapter 1430 It will be recorded in medical history.
Chapter 1430 It will be recorded in medical history.
Chapter 1430 It will be recorded in medical history.
Weber came again three days after Mannstein returned from the United States.
This time, he didn't come alone. But before he arrived, Yang Ping received a formal email. The sender was Weber, and the email was meticulously written, typical of German style—the subject, salutation, body, and attachments were all perfectly arranged.
"Professor Yang, some additional information regarding my next visit."
When Yang Ping saw the subject line, something felt off. A normal email subject line would be "I'm coming next week," but Weber wrote "Supplementary information regarding my next visit," as if a lawyer were drafting a contract.
He opened the email, and the text read as follows:
"Dear Professor Yang Ping, I plan to visit your institute again next Wednesday. The academic purpose of this visit is the same as last time: to continue learning from your team's latest data and to further discuss the molecular mechanisms of protocellular activation. In addition, German television channel ZDF plans to film a documentary on the 'Scientific Frontiers of Spinal Cord Injury Repair,' and they hope to conduct some filming during my visit. I have clearly informed the film crew that all filming must obtain your and your team's prior written consent, must not interfere with normal scientific research, must not film any unauthorized experimental content, and must not film the patient's face without their consent. The head of the film crew will communicate directly with you before arrival to confirm all details. If you do not agree, the film crew will not appear. I also respect your decision—the filming of a scientific documentary should not be at the expense of interfering with science itself."
After reading the email, Yang Ping pondered for a long time. This was Weber's style, and the style of all old-school German scientists: establish the rules first, then discuss matters. No surprises, no ambush tactics, no forcing acceptance by presenting "I brought a film crew" as a fait accompli. Instead, it's about advance communication, thorough consultation, and seeking consent. It makes people feel respected, not coerced.
He forwarded the email to Mainstein with the comment: "Is this how Germans do things?"
Mainstein replied quickly: "Yes! Weber is a typical old-fashioned German professor. He can dress casually, but he can't be casual about rules. When he said 'the film crew won't show up,' he really meant it; it wasn't just polite talk."
Yang Ping replied to Weber's email: "Professor Weber, the film crew can come. But they must sign a filming agreement upon arrival, clearly defining the scope of filming, usage rights, and confidentiality obligations. Yang Ping."
On Wednesday morning, the black van was parked again in front of the research institute. No other vans loaded with equipment followed. The film crew had arrived at Southern Metropolis Daily a day earlier, found their own accommodation, and drove over today, waiting at the institute's entrance.
Webber got out of the car, wearing a dark blue windbreaker and a baseball cap. Four people followed behind him: two cameramen, a sound engineer, and a producer. No one rushed in with equipment to film; everyone stood beside the car, waiting.
"Professor Yang!" Weber walked over and shook hands with Yang Ping. "The film crew is waiting outside. Have you prepared your filming agreement?"
"Ready!" Tang Shun grasped Weber's hand.
Webber spoke a few words in German with the film crew, then said, "They're only sending one producer as a representative to come upstairs with us. The rest of them will stay downstairs for now and come up after we sign the agreement."
"The Germans are quite disciplined," Yang Ping thought to himself as he watched the Germans taking inventory of the equipment.
When they arrived at the institute's office, Tang Shun took out the agreement and handed it to him: "It's a Chinese and German version, please take a look."
Weber took the agreement and read it from beginning to end. He read each clause very carefully, as if he were reading a thesis. After finishing, he nodded and turned to the representative of the film crew. He spoke to him in German, the gist of which was: This is the filming agreement. Take a look first, and sign it if you agree. If you don't agree, go back and don't film. The representative took the agreement, read it carefully, nodded, took a pen from his bag, and signed it.
Weber took the signed agreement back and handed it to Yang Ping: "Is this alright?"
"Is that alright? Shall we look at the data first?"
"Let's look at the data first."
Yang Ping walked into the research institute's conference room, with Weber following behind.
The producer went downstairs to call the film crew up, but agreed that they wouldn't film while reviewing the data. They went downstairs, unloaded the equipment from the car, moved it to a corner of the lab corridor, neatly stacked it against the wall, and then waited. No one rushed them, no one showed impatience.
Weber sat down at the conference table, and Mainstein laid out the latest data in front of him. Chen Jianguo's standing time over the past two weeks had increased from six minutes to seven and a half minutes. The results of a new batch of mechanistic studies on mouse models, including data from the chemogenetic clearance experiment, were in: after clearing the original cells, functional recovery was indeed partially reversed. Also, the data Hannah sent from Germany had undergone cross-validation analysis, showing a high degree of consistency with Mainstein's team's findings.
Weber's movements noticeably slowed when he saw the data from the data clearing experiment. He picked up the chart, examined it against the light for a long time, and then put it down. "When did this come out?"
“Yesterday!” Mainstein said.
"How many times was it repeated?"
"Three times, the result was the same."
Weber took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes: "Maninstein, do you know what this data means?"
"I know! The causal relationship is established."
Weber paused for a moment: "Are you sure?"
"Confirmed! Activation of the original cellular mechanism is a necessary condition for functional recovery. Once it is cleared, the recovery stops. This is the causal evidence you need."
Weber didn't speak again. He picked up the chart, looked at it again, and then put it down. His expression was calm, but Mainstein noticed that his fingers on the table tightened slightly. He was all too familiar with this subtle body language. A man who had done scientific research for fifty years, upon seeing the evidence he had waited so long for, didn't cheer, didn't weep, but clenched his fingers. Because he knew that this evidence was not the end, but the beginning.
“I’m very excited, but I don’t know what to say right now. Einstein, sometimes it’s like this. It’s right under our noses, but we don’t know anything about it. Looking back now, it was actually in my lab, and I didn’t see anything about it… In this light, the stem cell theory and the three-dimensional spatial guide gene theory are actually parts of a larger theory. One studies what it becomes, and the other studies where it appears. Combining them makes it complete. Where it is and what it becomes, that’s the real essence.”
Weber was unable to organize his thoughts into a coherent sentence, so he could only express himself in this disjointed manner.
The film crew didn't start shooting until the afternoon.
The producer was a German woman in her forties with short hair and a crisp, efficient manner. She approached Yang Ping and handed him a business card. “Professor Yang, our filming schedule for this afternoon is: twenty minutes in the rehabilitation training room, twenty minutes in the animal room, and a dialogue between the Chinese and German teams… Is that alright?” Yang Ping thought for a moment: “The rehabilitation training room is fine, but we can’t film the patients’ faces. Chen Jianguo has agreed to be filmed from behind and in profile. The animal room is fine, but we can’t film the experimental procedures, or the dialogue?”
"When we film you discussing science, there's no need to put on a show. Just talk like you normally would, and we'll try not to disturb you. Of course, according to the agreement, we won't film you."
Yang Ping glanced at Mainstein, who shrugged, as if to say, "You decide for yourself."
"Okay! But there's one condition: if I feel it's inappropriate, I can call a halt at any time."
"Of course! According to the agreement, you can stop the filming process or request the deletion of content at any time."
In the rehabilitation room, Chen Jianguo was doing standing exercises. Holding onto the parallel bars, his legs were very stable, even more so than last week. Sister Li stood beside him, holding a towel. When the film crew entered, Chen Jianguo didn't turn around and continued standing.
The producer walked up to Sister Li and spoke a few words softly in English. Mainstein translated for her, and Sister Li shook her head. The producer nodded and stepped back into the corner. The whole process took less than a minute—communication, rejection, and acceptance—all swift and decisive, without any entanglement.
The cameraman started filming, the lens focused on Chen Jianguo's back. His shoulders were broad, his back straight, and although his legs were still trembling slightly, they were firmly planted on the ground. The image showed no face, only the back of a person. A back view of someone relearning to stand.
After filming for a few minutes, the producer called "cut." The film crew quietly left the rehabilitation room, gently closing the door behind them.
Weber stood in the corridor, watching this scene unfold.
The animal house was the last stop.
Fritz was grooming the M7. When the film crew entered, he didn't even look up, continuing what he was doing. The producer walked over and said a few words in German. Fritz gave a brief reply of one word, which Yang Ping didn't understand, but judged from the tone to be "okay."
The cameraman started filming. This time, the camera didn't deliberately avoid anything: Fritz's hand, M7's fur, the cage bars, the light from the lamp. M7 lay in the cage, its eyes half-closed, and its hind legs kicked in front of the camera, as if to say hello.
"Is this it?" Weber asked.
“That’s it!” Mainstein said. “It’s called M7.”
Webber crouched down in front of the cage, looking at M7. M7 opened its eyes, tilted its head to look at him, then reached out and slipped its hand through the gap in the cage, its fingers spread wide.
Weber froze. He didn't reach out to shake it, but turned to look at Mainstein. "What is it doing?"
"It's waiting for you to hold its hand."
"Does it recognize me?"
"It doesn't know you, but it knows kindness. It knows who is good to it. It can't distinguish between Nobel laureates and ordinary people, but it can distinguish who is acting with good intentions."
Weber turned back to look at M7's outstretched hand. After a few seconds, he reached out and gently grasped M7's fingers. M7 shook his hand, as if to say "hello." Weber suddenly laughed, a laugh devoid of any restraint; a Nobel laureate in his seventies squatting in front of the monkey's cage, laughing like a child. The cameraman captured this moment, the shot remarkably steady.
“M7 will go down in medical history!” Weber muttered to himself, staring at M7. His legs went numb as he stood up, and he swayed slightly. Fritz helped him up. “Thank you,” Weber said, then turned to Yang Ping. “Professor Yang, I want to collaborate with you—no, I mean…Maninstein, please speak for me. I mean, this project is very ambitious, and I can do something about it, like stem cell research… I want to work for Professor Yang.”
“Work for him! Yes, Professor, Weber said he wants to work for you! Assign some work to his team; he can do stem cell research.”
Yang Ping looked at him: "Professor Weber, are you sure?"
"I'm sure! Although I'm over seventy years old, I'm still in great health, so you don't need to worry about my health."
Yang Ping was silent for a moment: "Okay! Let's cooperate!"
“Working, it’s working! Professor!” Mainstein corrected.
Weber reached out his hand, and Yang Ping took it. M7, lying in its cage, looked at the two humans and reached out its hand again. No one took its hand. After waiting a while, it withdrew its hand, rolled over, and continued sleeping, seemingly very unhappy and feeling greatly neglected.
That night, Weber didn't stay in a hotel; he stayed in the institute's duty room, saying, "I need to look at the data first thing tomorrow morning, staying in a hotel would be a waste of time." Yang Ping had someone prepare a firmer mattress and buckwheat pillows, as a firm mattress is good for the back of elderly people.
Mainstein escorted Weber to the duty room. Weber took the door, thanked him, and closed it. Mainstein stood in the doorway, looking at the closed door, and remembered many years ago, in Weber's laboratory in Germany, he had waited a long time outside, wanting to ask a question. The door opened, Weber peeked out, glanced at him, said, "I don't have time right now," and closed the door. That was the first time. Now it was the second time; the door was closed, but this time the feeling was completely different.
When Mainstein left the institute, he made a point of checking on the rehabilitation therapists. He glanced through the glass window into the rehabilitation room; Chen Jianguo wasn't there, nor was Sister Li. There were a few more sticky notes on the wall: "Jianguo stood for seven and a half minutes today." "See you tomorrow, Professor Mainstein."
He stood at the door, looking at the colorful sticky notes, but didn't go in. These notes weren't written for him; they were written for the future. Years later, decades later, when Chen Jianguo could walk on his own, what would he feel looking back at these notes?
In the animal room, Fritz was still sitting next to M7's cage, holding the book he had read many times, the light from the desk lamp falling on the pages. M7 was lying down, squinting, its hind legs kicking in its sleep.
Fritz uttered a word in German, but no one heard him except M7. M7 kicked again in the dream, as if it understood.
M7, it will go down in medical history! Mannstein repeated Weber's words from today.