Surgery Godfather

Chapter 2244: Chapter 1460: Making a Dish (2)

"Slow down!" Yang Ping caught up and grabbed him by the back of his collar. "You can’t run where there are lots of people..."

"Got it!" Dabao twisted around. "Dad, you’re even more naggy than Grandma!"

Xiao Su caught up from behind and hung the canvas bag over Yang Ping’s shoulder. "You keep an eye on him, I’ll go buy the tickets."

"I have money..."

"You have money?" Xiao Su raised an eyebrow. "That hundred in your wallet is the one I put in there three years ago."

Yang Ping patted his pocket. He watched Xiao Su’s back as she walked toward the ticket booth and smiled faintly.

The parent–child event at the botanical garden was held in a grove of ginkgo trees. A dozen or so kids were gathered around a teacher in a floral dress, listening to her explain "the structure of leaf veins" in an exaggerated tone. Dabao stood in the front row, little face tipped up, eyes wide and round, as if he were hearing the ultimate secret of the universe.

Yang Ping squatted at the back of the group. Next to him was a young father in a checkered shirt, head bent over his phone.

"You’re... Professor Yang?" The man in the checkered shirt suddenly looked up, surprise and uncertainty mingling in his gaze.

Yang Ping was taken aback. "And you are?"

"I’m from the Cardiology Department at Affiliated Hospital No. 1, my surname is Zhao. Last year you did a Coronary Bypass consultation for our department." Doctor Zhao gripped his hand excitedly. "Didn’t expect to run into you here! Is that your son?"

"...Mm." Yang Ping glanced around and lowered his voice. "Don’t make a fuss. I’m here today to be a superhero, not a professor."

Doctor Zhao froze for a second, then gave him a meaningful smile. "Got it, got it, hiding your name, keeping a low profile. Don’t worry, I’m very tight-lipped."

Yang Ping sighed. He thought this must be what they call the "celebrity effect"—even if you just want to quietly pick up a leaf, someone will still recognize you.

"Dad!" Dabao suddenly ran over, holding up a golden ginkgo leaf. "The teacher said to find the most beautiful leaf. Is this one beautiful?"

Yang Ping took the leaf and held it up to the sunlight. The veins were clear, the edges slightly curled, like a tiny palm. He remembered how, back at University in botany class, the professor had said ginkgoes were living fossils that had existed on Earth 270 million years ago.

"It’s beautiful," he said, "but we can still find something even more beautiful. Do you know what ’beauty’ is?"

"I know! Ultraman is the most beautiful!"

"...That’s handsome, not beautiful." Yang Ping took his hand. "Come on, Dad’s going to teach you about symmetry, the golden ratio, and the Fibonacci sequence..."

"What?"

"It means that when you’re looking for leaves, you want ones where both sides are the same size. Those are the prettiest."

Dabao nodded as if he half understood and tugged him deeper into the grove. Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the ginkgo leaves, scattering dappled light and shadow on the ground. Watching his son’s bouncing little back, Yang Ping suddenly felt that all those Nobel Prizes, Nature, Cell, K Therapy and unknown factors... were nowhere near as important as this moment.

Dabao began carefully sifting through the fallen leaves, muttering to himself, "Symmetry, golden... Dad, what was that something sequence?"

"Fibonacci."

"Right, Fibonacci!"

Yang Ping squatted down to look with him. Ten minutes later, they had collected seven leaves that "met the criteria." Dabao carefully placed them into the specimen folder Xiao Su had prepared, as if he were storing away seven priceless treasures.

"Dad," he suddenly said, "I want to be a professor when I grow up too."

"Why?"

"Because professors can teach people how to pick leaves, and they can teach people how to draw Ultraman."

Yang Ping laughed and ruffled his hair. "Being a professor is more than that. You have to read a lot of books, do a lot of experiments, and also..."

"Also what?"

"Also learn how to pick leaves with your son even when you’re really busy."

Dabao blinked, clearly not understanding. But that was fine, Yang Ping thought. Some things aren’t said for the child to hear, but for yourself.

The next activity was making leaf specimens. Dabao used glue to stick the seven ginkgo leaves onto a piece of card and drew a wobbly Ultraman next to them. Under Ultraman’s feet, he wrote a line: "My dad is a superhero!"

"Dad," Dabao held up the specimen, "does it look good?"

"It does," Yang Ping said. "It’s the best specimen in the world."

"Better than your papers?"

"Better than all the papers."

Dabao, satisfied, slipped the specimen into the canvas bag. Xiao Su watched from the side, a gentle smile at the corner of her lips.

The phone buzzed once. Yang Ping didn’t look at it; he simply reached out and pressed the power button.

"Let’s go," he stood up and took Dabao’s hand. "The superhero is taking you to ride the Ferris wheel."

"Yay!"

Xiao Su packed up their things and followed behind. Yang Ping glanced back at her. The setting sun edged her silhouette in gold, like a gentle cut-out figure.

"Thank you for today," he said.

"Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for letting me be a superhero."

Xiao Su paused for a moment, then smiled. "You already are one. You just forget sometimes."

The Ferris wheel was on the west side of the botanical garden, turning slowly like a giant ring. Yang Ping sat in the cabin with Dabao in his arms, while Xiao Su sat opposite, taking photos of them with her phone.

"Send me one," Yang Ping said. "I’ll use it as my screensaver."

"Which one?"

"The best one you took."

Xiao Su picked one and sent it to him. In the photo, Yang Ping was holding Dabao; both of them were smiling at the camera, with a blurred city skyline in the background. Sunlight streamed in through the glass, casting a warm glow over their faces.

Yang Ping set the photo as his screensaver, then turned off the phone and slipped it into his pocket.

The Ferris wheel slowly descended. Today’s parent–child class was nearly over.

"Dad," Dabao suddenly said, "can we come again next time?"

"We can."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear."

One big and one little finger hooked together and swung lightly. Watching from the side, Xiao Su suddenly said, "You take a pinky swear as seriously as you do Surgery."

Yang Ping smiled.

By the time they got home, it was already evening.

After Yang Ping coaxed Dabao to sleep, he tiptoed out of the children’s room and found Xiao Su sitting on the sofa, reading a parenting book. He walked over, sat down beside her, and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Tired?" Xiao Su asked.

"Yeah."

"Superheroes get tired too?"

"Superheroes are human too."

"It’s Sunday tomorrow. Any plans?"

"...No."

"Then come grocery shopping with me?"

"Sure!"

"Then we do a big housecleaning?"

"...Okay."

"Then you read picture books to Dabao?"

"Okay!"

"And then..."

"And then," Yang Ping opened his eyes and looked at her, "then I’ll cook you a meal. I’ve learned a new dish."

Xiao Su was taken aback, then laughed, her eyes curving like crescents. "You? Cook?"

"Don’t believe me?"

"I do," she said. "But you have to learn how to light the stove first. Last time, that pot of water you boiled almost set the kitchen on fire."

"That was an accident."

"The time before that, the eggs you fried turned into charcoal."

"...That was a failed experiment."

"And the time before that, the noodles you cooked were as hard as rebar."

Yang Ping fell silent. Thinking of those "kitchen accidents," he suddenly realized that the all-powerful Professor Yang in the world of Science might not even measure up to a high schooler in the home kitchen.

"I can learn," he said seriously. "The essence of research is constant trial and error, drawing lessons from failure, and eventually reaching your targets."

"And what are your targets?"

"To make a dish that you and Dabao are both happy with."

Xiao Su looked at him, her gaze as soft as still water. She reached out and cupped his face, her fingertips lightly rubbing the stubble on his chin.

She said, "We’re already happy with you. You don’t have to cook anything."

Yang Ping said, "But I want to. I want to do something that has nothing to do with the Nobel Prize, with Nature magazine, or with K Therapy. Something... ordinary."

Xiao Su didn’t say anything. She just leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. Outside the window, the city lights came on one after another like a fallen starry sky, and the faint sound of distant traffic wove together into a simple, living picture.

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