Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2189: Chapter 1435: This Feeling Is So Strange

In the animal room, Fritz is brushing M7’s fur.

Yang Ping pushes the door open and enters. Fritz immediately stands up, gripping the comb tightly like a child caught doing something wrong. Fritz is the animal caretaker, but whenever Yang Ping comes to the animal room, he always directly looks for him, rather than the student on duty.

Yang Ping says, "Continue!"

Fritz hesitates for a moment, then squats down again. M7 is lying in the cage, with half-closed eyes. Upon seeing Yang Ping, its ears twitch but it doesn’t lift its head. It is enjoying the brushing and doesn’t want to be interrupted.

Yang Ping squats down to be at eye-level with M7.

"How is it today?" he asks Fritz, though his eyes are fixed on the gauze on M7’s hind leg.

"Eating well," Fritz replies. "Woke up once at three in the morning, and I gave it some water. Ate half a banana at seven in the morning, and three grapes at nine."

"Excretion?"

"Normal."

"Sleep?"

"Intermittent," Fritz says, "but adds up to fourteen hours."

Yang Ping nods, reaching out to gently press M7’s foot. M7’s leg twitches slightly, not due to reflex but a slight evasion, indicating that the sensory pathway is recovering—consciously recovering.

"Professor Weber," Yang Ping says without turning his head, "come and take a look."

Weber walks up from behind and squats beside Yang Ping. His knees aren’t very good, and he lets out a slight "hiss" as he squats down, but he doesn’t complain.

"Avoidance reaction," Yang Ping says, "the third time after the operation, the first time it appeared."

Weber stares at M7’s leg for a long time. Then he reaches out and also presses it, with more force than Yang Ping. M7’s leg twitches again, with greater amplitude, accompanied by a low grunt.

"Not a reflex," Weber says, his voice a bit tense. "It’s perception; it knows we’re touching it, and it doesn’t like it."

"Yes," Yang Ping says, "this means that both Aδ fibers and C fibers are recovering, but recovering too quickly may not be a good thing."

"Central sensitization," Weber responds, "a precursor to hyperalgesia."

Yang Ping glances at him, a trace of appreciation in his eyes. Before Weber arrived, he was worried this Nobel Prize winner might throw his weight around, making arbitrary judgments. But over three months, Weber’s performance exceeded his expectations—not the kind of superficial "cooperation," but genuinely seeing himself as part of the team, arguing when it’s time to argue, and complying when it’s time to comply.

"What’s your judgment?" Yang Ping asks.

"The optogenetic system needs to be activated early," Weber says. "We can’t wait until the fourth weekend; it should be engaged by the third weekend. The time window is narrower than we thought."

"I agree with your judgment," Yang Ping stands up, dusting off his knees. "Tang Shun!"

Tang Shun enters from the door. He hadn’t actually gone far, just waiting in the hallway.

"Professor," he says.

"Notify Eva to activate the optical stimulation plan ahead of schedule tomorrow," Yang Ping says. "Move the original schedule seventy-two hours ahead. Personally monitor the electrophysiological data, record every two hours, and call me immediately with any abnormalities."

"Understood," Tang Shun takes out his phone and starts taking notes, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," Yang Ping pauses, "have Hans and Lina run the proteomics data again, focusing on the distribution of BDNF isoforms. I suspect the previous antibody specificity wasn’t sufficient, possibly overlooking a subtype."

"Okay."

"Professor Weber," Yang Ping turns to Weber, "how much longer do you need for the equipment adjustments?"

"The coupling efficiency of the fiber optic array has reached eighty-five percent," Weber says, "but there’s a problem with the LED module’s heat dissipation. After four consecutive hours of operation, the temperature rises by two degrees, which might affect the activity of NpHR."

"Can it be resolved?"

"Give me two days," Weber says, "I’ll redesign the heatsink."

"One day," Yang Ping says, "I need to see a six-hour stable operation record by tomorrow night."

Weber pauses for a moment, then nods. "One day."

Tang Shun relays Yang Ping’s instructions, and the entire Institute begins to operate like a precision machine, gearing up.

When Eva received the call, she was in the dormitory packing her luggage, planning to take advantage of this rare weekend to buy a new oscilloscope. Upon hearing Tang Shun’s words, she simply said, "Got it," hung up the phone, pushed her suitcase under the bed, put on a white gown, and headed to the laboratory.

Hans and Lina were having noodles in the cafeteria. After receiving the notification, Hans pushed aside his remaining half bowl of noodles, and Lina pulled out her laptop from her bag, booting it up as they walked.

"Director Tang said to run the data again," Hans mumbled, "didn’t we just run it last week?"

"Professor Yang suspects the antibody specificity," Lina’s eyes were fixed on the screen, "which means the previous conclusions might all be overturned."

"All of it?"

"All of it," Lina says, "if a BDNF isoform was overlooked, the entire signaling pathway model would have to be rebuilt."

Hans sighed but didn’t slow his pace. He had worked with Weber in Germany for five years and had seen Weber’s temper—when papers were rejected, experiments failed, or when young people made mistakes. But after coming to China for three months, he never saw Yang Ping lose his temper. Yang Ping doesn’t get angry; he just looks at you, his gaze calm, and then says, "Redo it." Just those two words are more powerful than Weber pounding the table.

"Lina," Hans suddenly says, "who do you think is more formidable, Professor Yang or Professor Weber?"

Lina’s steps pause for a moment.

"In terms of academic standing, both academic status and research capability..." she says.

She doesn’t finish, but Hans understands.

In Germany, Weber was a top figure, someone everyone looked up to. But here, at the Sanbo Institute, Weber looks up to Yang Ping. It’s not empty politeness; it’s real. Hans had seen Weber send emails to Yang Ping, asking about a technical detail, and had also seen Weber get into a heated debate with Yang Ping in group meetings because of differing opinions, only to finally say, "Professor Yang, you’re right, I’ll rethink this."

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