Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2204: Chapter 1442: Good News

The days following the publication of the Cell cover article, the world became very noisy.

Yang Ping’s phone was bombarded daily with emails, texts, and calls from all over the world. There were reporters wanting interviews, journals requesting articles, universities inviting him to give lectures, foundations wanting to donate to him, patients seeking consultations, and companies wanting to discuss cooperation. Tang Shun spent two hours each day screening this information for him, picking out the truly important, filtering out the less important, and directly blocking those who were clearly scammers or lunatics.

But Yang Ping himself was quieter than ever; he was used to this. This wasn’t the first time heavy-weight papers of his hadn’t resulted in such a state.

Richardson personally called him, inviting him to deliver a keynote address at the society’s annual meeting, which he declined.

"Professor Richardson, thank you for the invitation, but I currently do not have plans to go abroad."

"Why not? Your paper is the most important breakthrough in the field this year, you should come."

"I don’t like going abroad," Yang Ping said calmly, as naturally as saying, "I don’t like eating cilantro," "I can’t adjust to the time difference, can’t eat or sleep well, and work inefficiently. Besides, I go home every day, don’t work overtime, don’t stay up late, and don’t travel. This is the rule I’ve set for myself."

Richardson thought he misheard. "No overtime? No travel? Professor Yang, are you joking?"

"I’m not joking. I go home after work to have dinner with my family, play with my child, read literature for an hour after the child goes to bed, and then sleep. I try not to work on weekends, that’s my principle."

Richardson was silent for a long time, thinking about how in the past twenty years he had barely eaten dinner at home, either traveling or in meetings, and if not in meetings, in the laboratory. He wasn’t there when his child learned to walk, when his child called him dad for the first time, or at his child’s high school graduation, because he was at an academic conference in Tokyo.

"Professor Yang, how do you manage that?" His voice was a bit hoarse.

"It’s very simple," Yang Ping said. "Finish work during work hours. If you can’t finish, it means the workload is too heavy, so you should reduce it, not work overtime."

Richardson laughed on the other end of the phone, but it wasn’t a happy laugh; it was a bitter, regretful laugh.

"Professor Yang, you make me feel like I’ve wasted these decades."

"Not at all, you just took a different path. I have my path, and you have yours. But I don’t think giving all my time to work is a good path, so I chose another one."

Richardson didn’t try to persuade him anymore. He congratulated him and then ended the call.

Yet he couldn’t understand why, with Yang not working overtime and living so leisurely, he could continue to release so many new theories. He simply could not fathom it.

Yang Ping put the phone on the table and glanced at the time, five-thirty in the afternoon. He closed his laptop, organized the scattered documents on the desktop, put them in the drawer, picked up his coat, and walked out of the office.

In the hallway, he ran into Tang Shun, who was carrying a stack of documents and was about to knock on the door.

"Professor, there are a few documents that need your signature..."

"Tomorrow," Yang Ping said.

Tang Shun was momentarily stunned. He looked at his watch, five thirty-three. Then he looked at Yang Ping, who had already put on his coat and was walking briskly without the exhaustion typical of researchers working late into the night.

"Isn’t it urgent?"

"It’s not urgent!"

"Then it can wait until tomorrow."

Yang Ping left without looking back.

Tang Shun stood there, unsure whether to hand over or take back that stack of documents. He watched Yang Ping’s figure disappear down the corridor and then lowered his head, carrying the documents back to his office to lock them in the drawer.

Fritz came out of the animal room just in time to see this scene.

"Director Tang, has the professor left?"

"Yes, he left at five-thirty, right on time."

Fritz nodded, as if confirming something he already knew.

"M7 completed the last batch of data today and is in great condition. I’ve emailed today’s records to you, and I should be leaving too. The supermarket has discounts today, I need to buy some things."

Tang Shun looked at Fritz’s back, then at the colorful sticky notes on the corridor wall, remembering Yang Ping’s words: "Science is not made by working overtime desperately, but by thinking. Being in the laboratory with a tired brain is also a waste of time."

He silently repeated this sentence in his mind, then turned off the lights, locked the door, and left the institute.

When Yang Ping got home, Xiao Su was cooking in the kitchen. The range hood was humming, the sound of the spatula flipping food could be heard, mixed with the aroma of garlic and soy sauce.

Xiao Shu was sitting on the living room carpet, with a pile of blocks in front of him. When he saw Yang Ping open the door and enter, he immediately dropped the block he held, ran over in his blue little slippers with a ’pat-pat’ sound, and hugged Yang Ping’s leg.

"Daddy! Daddy’s home!"

Yang Ping squatted down, picked up his son, and kissed his face. Xiao Shu’s face was soft, with a sweet milky smell, as if he had just woken up from a dream.

"Have you been good today?"

"Good!" Xiao Shu said loudly. Then he thought for a moment and added, "Mom said so."

Yang Ping laughed and, carrying Xiao Shu, walked into the kitchen and stood at the door. Xiao Su was cooking, not turning her head, but the corners of her mouth had already curved up.

"You’re back?"

"I’m back."

"Wash your hands and eat."

"Okay!"

Yang Ping put Xiao Shu down, went to wash his hands, and when he came out, the dining table was set with three dishes and a soup.

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