NovelsAlex Chapter 1366 A Life of Leisure and Reclusion
Chapter 1366 A Life of Leisure and Reclusion
Chapter 1366 A Life of Leisure and Reclusion
Director Han has been in a good mood these past few days.
He gets up in the morning, practices Tai Chi on the balcony, goes downstairs for breakfast, and then strolls to the hospital. It's not really a hospital visit; his official position is "Chief Expert of the Expert Group at Sanbo Hospital," a prestigious-sounding but actually quite undemanding technical advisory role. No outpatient clinics, no surgeries, no morning meetings, no document approvals. He can come and go as he pleases. The hospital car is still parked in the garage; he finds it inconvenient and prefers walking.
Of course, he can perform surgery whenever he wants, he can go to the outpatient clinic whenever he wants, and he can also try to make his presence felt at a meeting.
If you attend an orthopedic academic conference abroad, whether domestic or international, you'll be treated as a special guest by the organizers.
It's a 20-minute walk from home to Sanbo. You cross an old street, turn onto the tree-lined Xueyuan Road, and after passing one traffic light, you'll see Sanbo's outpatient building. He's walked this road for over a decade; he could walk it blindfolded without ever getting lost.
It was Thursday, and the outpatient hall was still bustling with people. Director Han, wearing a gray jacket and carrying a cloth bag, strolled slowly through the crowd.
Every now and then someone on the street would call out "Director Han" with utmost respect. He liked this feeling. He took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor, where his office was.
It's called an office, but it's more like a study. Over forty square meters, facing south, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of the entire city. A row of bookshelves against the wall is crammed with various orthopedic monographs and journals, some bought during his doctoral studies, their spines yellowed with age. Opposite the bookshelves is a large desk with a computer and a pen holder. Next to the desk is a tea set, made of purple clay, used for over a decade; the teapot's surface has become smooth and lustrous from years of tea use.
Director Han placed the cloth bag on the table and went to make himself a cup of tea. The water had been boiled that morning and was now just the right temperature. He carried the teacup to the window, gazing at the ant-like crowds below, and stared blankly for a while.
Downstairs is the entrance to the inpatient department, where ambulances constantly arrive and patients' families come and go, carrying large and small bags. Every day, stories of birth, aging, illness, and death unfold in this city, and Sanbo is one of the most important stages for these stories.
He looked at it for a while, then suddenly remembered something, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.
"Xiao Yang, where are you?"
Yang Ping's voice came from the other end of the phone: "Director, I'm in the operating room, just came down. Is there something you need?"
Director Han said, "It's nothing, just asking. Are you free at noon? Come over and have lunch together."
Yang Ping said, "Okay, I'll come over as soon as I finish what I'm doing."
Director Han hung up the phone, a relaxed smile appearing on his lips.
Yang Ping was his most outstanding student, without exception.
In fact, he only supervised two doctoral students in his entire life. One was Song Ziming, and the other was Yang Ping. Song Ziming could only be considered half a doctoral student, because he was originally a student of another professor and switched to the program halfway through. The only doctoral student he truly supervised from beginning to end, entirely under his own guidance, was Yang Ping.
One is enough.
Actually, Yang Ping didn't bring much with him; it was all thanks to his own high talent.
Director Han put down his teacup, walked to the bookshelf, and opened the bottom drawer. Inside, a neat stack of photo albums was arranged. He flipped through them, found the thickest one, sat back on the sofa, and slowly began to look through it.
The first photo was taken when Yang Ping first came to Sanbo Hospital. At that time, Yang Ping was twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, wearing a white coat, standing at the door of the orthopedic surgeon's office with a slightly reserved smile on his face. Standing next to him was Director Han himself, with a buzz cut, his back ramrod straight, looking very confident and spirited.
Director Han turned the page; the next photo was of Yang Ping during his doctoral studies. In the photo, Yang Ping, wearing scrubs, stood in the operating room, his face marked by the mask. It was taken after they had completed a surgery that lasted several hours. The patient was a six-year-old child with congenital spinal deformity; several hospitals had refused to admit him. Yang Ping was the lead surgeon, and Director Han assisted him. They stood from eight in the morning until nine at night, only drinking a few sips of water and eating a few biscuits in between. After the surgery, the child's spine was successfully corrected. Director Han was so exhausted that he could barely straighten his back, but Yang Ping was still there, staring at the monitor and checking the data, like a tireless machine.
It wasn't just because Yang Ping could endure hardship, but also because he possessed that drive—a passion for medicine, a curiosity about the unknown, and an obsession with perfection. On the operating table, while others might consider an 80% success rate acceptable, he insisted on achieving 90% or even 100%. He would repeatedly ponder and refine aspects that others deemed "good enough." Once, he spent a whole month working on an improved surgical approach, drawing hundreds of diagrams. Finally, he showed them to Director Han, who, after a long examination, simply said, "You're much better than me, kid."
Turning the page, the next photo was taken on the day Dr. Yang Ping graduated. In the photo, Yang Ping is wearing his doctoral gown, holding his degree certificate, standing next to Director Han, and smiling brightly.
Yang Ping rose through the ranks at Sanbo Hospital, from attending physician to director, and from director to director of the research institute. He transformed from an ordinary surgeon into a top-tier surgical expert in China and a world-class scholar. The surgeries he performed, the papers he published, the awards he received, and the students he mentored—each one is enough for an ordinary person to boast about for a lifetime. But he never boasts; he simply focuses on his work, just like that young man who first arrived at Sanbo, always learning, always thinking, always striving for improvement.
Director Han turned another page; he didn't know when this photo was taken. Yang Ping stood on the Golden Scalpel Award stage. He was the biggest dark horse of that year's Golden Scalpel Award, crushing top hospitals like Peking Union Medical College Hospital, West China Hospital, and Beijing Medical University to win the Golden Scalpel Award.
After the meeting, someone asked him, "Professor Han, is Yang Ping your student?"
Director Han nodded and said, "Yes."
The man said, "You teach very well."
Director Han smiled but didn't say anything.
What he was thinking was: It's not that I taught him well, it's that he proved himself.
My phone rang; it was Yang Ping calling.
"Director, I'm almost downstairs. Are you in your office?"
Director Han said, "Yes, come up here."
After hanging up the phone, Director Han put the photo album away and returned it to the drawer. Then he walked to the door, opened it, and sat back down on the sofa to refill his cup of tea.
A few minutes later, Yang Ping pushed the door open and came in.
He was wearing a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face showed a hint of fatigue, but his eyes were still bright. Upon seeing Director Han, he greeted, "Director."
Director Han pointed to the sofa: "Sit down and have some tea."
Yang Ping sat down on the sofa, took the teacup handed to him by Director Han, and took a sip.
The two men drank tea and chatted idly for a while. They talked about hospital matters, family matters, the books they had recently read, and the changing weather. Director Han didn't bring up any serious topics, and Yang Ping didn't ask any questions. This kind of casual conversation was a long-standing habit between them, mentor and apprentice. There was no purpose, no talk of work, just casual conversation, like father and son, like friends.
Yang Ping gets along very easily with Director Han. There's no need for him to do anything special. Just like just now, if they invite each other for tea or a meal and Yang Ping is unavailable, he can simply say, "Director, I'm busy. Let's do it another day." There won't be any problems at all.
Now even Dean Xia calls Yang Professor, but Director Han still calls Yang Ping "Little Yang," and Yang Ping calls Director Han "Director." This is their tacit understanding, and any change by either of them would disrupt this harmony and tacit understanding.
As they chatted, Yang Ping said, "Thank you."
The three simple words made Director Han pause for a moment.
Yang Ping continued, "Thank you for recruiting me back then, thank you for teaching me skills, thank you for giving me opportunities. Without you, I wouldn't be who I am today."
After listening, Director Han remained silent for a long time before saying, "Silly boy, with your talent, you would have achieved what you have today no matter where you are. I was just lucky."
Yang Ping shook his head: "That's not necessarily true, it won't be as smooth as it is now."
"Gold will always shine!"
"There's a huge amount of gold buried underground that nobody's digging for." Director Han waved his hand, not wanting to continue the topic. He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said, "Alright, let's not talk about this anymore. What do you want to eat for lunch? It's on me."
Yang Ping said, "You decide, I'm fine with anything."
Director Han thought for a moment and said, "Then let's go to that noodle shop. Is your favorite one still there?"
Yang Ping said, "Yes, I passed by just a few days ago, and business is still booming."
Director Han stood up, picked up the cloth bag, and said, "Let's go get some noodles."
Suddenly, he remembered something, smiled, and sat down.
"What's wrong?" Yang Ping didn't understand why Director Han wasn't going again.
Director Han said, "I won't trouble you any further. Let's go to the cafeteria at your institute and grab something to eat."
Yang Ping instantly understood what Director Han meant: "Okay, let's go to our side."
The two left the office and took the elevator downstairs. As they walked through the outpatient lobby, they bumped into a young doctor who, upon seeing Yang Ping, quickly greeted him, "Hello, Professor Yang!"
Yang Ping nodded: "Okay."
When the young doctor saw Director Han again, he paused for a moment, then quickly greeted him, "Hello, Director Han!"
Director Han smiled and nodded, then continued walking forward.
The young doctor stood there, staring blankly at the two figures as they walked away. A nurse nearby asked, "What are you looking at?"
The young doctor said, "Was that Professor Yang Ping just now? And who's that next to him?"
The nurse said, "That's Director Han, the former director of orthopedics, Yang Ping's mentor. Don't you know that?"
The young doctor suddenly realized, "Oh, so he's Director Han."
The nurse asked, "What?"
The young doctor said, "I heard that Professor Yang Ping was the one he mentored, and that he only mentored one doctoral student, Yang Ping, in his entire life."
The nurse immediately said, "Yes, we only brought Yang Ping, a PhD, and Song Ziming is only counted as half a PhD."
The nurse glanced back; the two had already disappeared into the crowd.
Director Han doesn't show his face very often these days, so many newly hired young doctors don't recognize him, but they certainly know his name. He's the only one who has commanded respect in the medical field with just one and a half doctorates.
Upon arriving at the institute's internal cafeteria, Director Han and Yang Ping found a corner seat, ordered two bowls of beef noodles, and a few side dishes.
The noodles arrived, two large bowls steaming hot. Director Han picked up his chopsticks, took a bite, and said, "Hmm, this tastes good."
Yang Ping also took a bite and said, "The chefs here are quite skilled."
Director Han said, "I heard they were specially transferred here?"
Yang Ping nodded: "Manager Qiu specially transferred him here. This chef is a jack-of-all-trades and can cook all kinds of cuisines well. You might as well come to our research institute for meals in the future. It's just a short walk away."
After eating for a while, Director Han asked again, "Yang Ping, how are those young people you're leading now?"
Yang Ping raised his head: "They're all doing well. They're all willing to learn and work hard. There are a few promising talents who, given time, will all achieve great things."
Director Han said, "That's good. When it comes to teaching students, you have to put your heart into it. It's not just about teaching skills, but more importantly, teaching them how to be good people. Skills can be learned as long as you're willing to learn. But when it comes to being a good person, some things require understanding and guidance."
Yang Ping nodded: "I understand, Director."
Director Han smiled and said, "That's good. I've watched you all grow up. Now that you've all made something of yourself, I'm happy for you too."
Yang Ping was silent for a moment, then suddenly said, "Director, are you really not considering taking on a few more students?"
Director Han shook his head: "I won't take you anymore. Besides, you guys have already taken off. What's the point of me taking you on? You're all much better than me. You should be taking on more students. If I take on more students, I'll be misleading them. I'll do some logistical support for you."
Yang Ping said, "So you're really going to stop caring about anything from now on?"
Director Han said, "Of course I'll take care of it. I'm the chief expert of this expert group, and I'm not just doing this for nothing. If you have any difficult cases or are unsure of what to do, come to me anytime. I can give you my opinion and offer some advice."
Yang Ping laughed and said, "Then you still can't stay idle."
Director Han nodded: "It's good that you can't stay idle. If I had to stay at home every day, I would get bored. Now, I can manage things when I want to, and I can leave them alone when I don't want to. It's just right."
After finishing their noodles, the two walked out of the research institute. Sunlight shone on the bluestone pavement in the alley, giving it a soft glow.
Director Han said, "Alright, you can go back now. Don't you have a lot of things to do this afternoon?"
Yang Ping said, "Well, what about you?"
Director Han said, "I'm going back to take a nap, read some books in the afternoon, and have dinner with some old friends in the evening."
Yang Ping nodded: "Then please take care, I'll come to see you another day."
Director Han waved his hand: "Go on, go on, don't keep thinking about me, get on with your business."
Yang Ping turned and walked towards the hospital, but after a few steps, he turned back. Director Han was already carrying a cloth bag, slowly walking in the opposite direction, his gray jacket appearing and disappearing in the crowd.
He stood there and watched for a long time.
He only turned around and continued walking forward after the figure disappeared at the end of the alley.