tkworld Chapter 1373 Old Friends
Chapter 1373 Old Friends
Chapter 1373 Old Friends
August hummed a song after getting up in the morning. His wife, Anna, heard it in the kitchen, peeked out at him, and looked at him with a hint of surprise in her eyes: "Did you win the lottery today or get elected Chancellor of Germany?"
August laughed as he tied his tie: "That's even more gratifying than these things."
He didn't say much, and Anna didn't ask any more questions. After more than 20 years of marriage, she had long been used to the occasional mysticism of this German man.
In fact, three days have passed since the thing that made him feel good, but every time he thinks about it, he can't help but smile.
Three days ago, at the annual meeting of the European Society of Spine Surgery in Paris, something happened that he will never forget.
It was the last afternoon of the conference. All the major presentations had concluded, leaving only some free time for networking and tea breaks. He was standing in front of the booth, discussing issues with several young German doctors, when he suddenly sensed someone approaching from behind.
He turned around and saw Milton.
The Englishman stood two meters away, wearing a dark blue suit, his hair neatly combed, and behind his signature square-framed glasses was a face with a complex expression.
August paused for a moment. He and Milton had known each other for almost twenty years, their initial clashes occurring at various academic conferences since their youth. They debated surgical approaches, the choice of internal fixation, the merits of fusion versus non-fusion, and virtually every issue that could be debated. This debate lasted for over a decade, later evolving into a more direct competition for the presidency of the European Spine Surgery Association.
Three years ago, August was elected, and Milton was very unwilling to accept the defeat, refusing to shake hands with him after the meeting.
When Milton stood in front of him, August's first thought was: What is he going to do?
The young doctors nearby clearly sensed the subtle tension and made excuses to disperse, leaving only the two of them standing face to face.
“August,” Milton began, his voice lower than usual, unlike his aggressive tone during academic debates.
“Milton.” August nodded, waiting for him to continue.
After a moment of silence, Milton said something that made August wonder if he had misheard.
“I’ve always been reluctant to admit it,” Milton said, speaking slowly and laboriously, “but today I must formally admit that I’ve read your paper on complex spinal deformities, I’ve watched those surgical videos, and I can’t do it. I’ve tried, but I’ve never been able to.”
August was taken aback.
Milton continued, “We’ve been arguing for years, and I thought we just had different opinions and were on the same level. But after seeing your work over the last two years, I know I was wrong. You’ve gone far ahead, and I can’t catch up.”
After he finished speaking, he extended his hand.
August stared at the hand and remained silent for a long time.
Then he grasped it.
“Thank you, Milton,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “Those words mean a lot to me.”
Milton nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave.
This was Milton's formal and clear admission of defeat to August, although he had expressed this sentiment privately on several occasions before, this was the first time he had made a formal statement.
August stood there, watching his old rival's figure disappear into the crowd. A complex mix of emotions welled up inside him: the joy of victory, the satisfaction of being recognized, and a touch of inexplicable sadness. Suddenly, he felt empty inside.
His rival of twenty years has finally admitted that he is no match for him.
Three days later, August was still thinking about this in his study at his home in Munich.
The study wasn't large, but it was very tidy. One wall was lined with bookshelves, crammed with various professional books and journals. On the other wall hung a Chinese painting, which he had brought back from Sanbo. It depicted bamboo, with a poem inscribed beside it: "The humble bamboo has drooping leaves, the proud plum blossoms have no upturned flowers."
He understands poetry and also likes this painting.
Three years ago, at the age of 48, he had already made a name for himself in the German spinal surgery community, but he always felt he had reached a bottleneck. He could perform surgeries, write papers, and give presentations at conferences, but he just felt something was missing. It was an indescribable sense of stagnation, like a train that had reached a plain, where you could see the end from the front, and there was no longer any thrill of climbing mountains and crossing valleys.
By chance, he saw Yang Ping performing surgery in Malaysia. After careful consideration, he made a decision that none of his colleagues understood: to go to China for three months of further study.
"Are you crazy?" his colleague said. "You're already famous, going to China to learn from a young doctor?"
He offered no explanation.
Some things don't need explanation.
Three months—not a long time, not a short time. But those three months changed his understanding of surgery, and also his understanding of medicine.
He remembered the first time he entered the operating room at Sanbo Hospital, seeing Yang Ping perform an extremely complex scoliosis correction procedure. The patient's spine was curved to over ninety degrees, accompanied by severe rotational deformity, which conventional methods simply could not handle. Professor Yang stood calmly in front of the operating table, and he watched as Professor Yang straightened the twisted spine bit by bit, watched the screws being precisely inserted into their correct positions, and watched the osteotomy cuts fit together perfectly.
After the surgery, he asked Professor Yang, "How did you do that?"
Yang Ping thought for a moment and said, "The more you do, the more you think; the more you think, the better you do."
He didn't quite understand that statement at the time, but he gradually realized that it wasn't modesty, it was the truth.
The more you do, the more you think; the more you think, the better you do.
That's the whole secret.
During those three months, he performed many surgeries, discussed numerous cases, and drank tea with Professor Yang many times. Yang Ping was a man of few words, but every word he uttered was to the point. Sometimes, when he asked a question, Yang Ping would remain silent for a long time before uttering a statement that would enlighten him.
After returning from China, August's surgical style changed, becoming more refined, more ingenious, and more daring to do what others dared not. He actively and boldly adopted the Young's osteotomy technique for scoliosis surgery, which caused a stir in Europe at the time.
Two years later, he published his paper on complex spinal deformities, causing a sensation in the European spinal surgery community. A year later, he was elected president of the European Spine Surgery Association. And Milton, his rival of twenty years, finally bowed his head before him.
His phone rang; it was a message from Professor Yang in the international academic group. He opened it and saw that Robert was up to his old tricks again, posting a photo of himself and Jack Sullivan with the caption: "Guess what surgery I did to him?"
The group chat instantly became lively.
This Robert, always so high-profile, but he had to admit that Robert was right. All of them, whoever they are, owe their success to Professor Yang.
After thinking for a moment, he also sent a message: "Milton formally admitted to me three days ago that he is not as good as me."
The group was quiet for a few seconds, then exploded.
Robert was the first to reply: "Really? That Englishman? Hasn't he been arguing with you for twenty years?"
Woodhead typed a string of exclamation marks: "August, you've finally waited for this day!"
Takahashi sent a clapping emoji: "Congratulations."
August looked at the messages, thought for a moment, and replied, "He said he read my paper and surgical video, and that he can't do it, that he can't catch up with me."
After sending that message, he suddenly felt a pang of emotion.
Twenty years of debate, twenty years of competition, finally ended with this sentence. There was no boasting from the victor, no resentment from the loser, just the frank admission of an old rival.
Robert posted another message: "So who should you thank?"
August stared at the words for a moment in silence. Then he replied, "Thank you, our teacher."
He didn't say much, but he knew that everyone in the group understood.
A few minutes later, Professor Yang's message appeared in the group chat. It was very simple, just two words:
"come on!"
"Dinner's ready," Anna knocked on the door. "I made your favorite pork knuckle today."
He stood up and walked out of the study. A meal was already laid out on the dining table, along with a chilled beer.
During dinner, Anna suddenly asked, "What were you laughing about in the study just now? So loudly!"
He paused for a moment, then asked, "Really?"
Anna said, "Yes, she was laughing quite happily."
He thought for a moment and said, "I remembered something."
Anna didn't press him further; she simply looked at him with a gentle understanding in her eyes.
After finishing his meal, he returned to his study and read for a while longer. The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and the lights along the Rhine began to illuminate the river.
He suddenly remembered a question: What is Milton thinking right now?
Is that Englishman, somewhere in London today, also thinking about every issue they've debated and every position they've competed for over the years?
He knew that from now on, his relationship with Milton would never be the same as before. No longer rivals, no longer enemies. But friends, in fact, they had always been friends, the kind of friends who would argue whenever they met.
There was another knock on the door; it was the youngest son, Max.
"Dad, can you help me with this problem?"
He nodded, took the workbook his son handed him, which contained a math problem about function graphs.
He looked at it for a while and suddenly thought of a question: if life is a function curve, what would its graph look like?
When I was young, I was on an upward trajectory. In middle age, I encountered a bottleneck. Then, three years ago, the curve jumped up again.
He picked up a pen and drew a diagram for his son on a piece of scrap paper, explaining it step by step. Max understood and happily said thank you.
He patted his son's head and said, "You're welcome. If you have any questions in the future, feel free to ask me."
After his son left, he sat alone in his study, looking out at the night.
The phone rang again; it was a private message from Milton.
"I don't want too many people to know about what happened a few days ago, but every word I said was from the bottom of my heart."
He stared at the words and remained silent for a while.
Then he replied, "I know, thank you."
After sending the message, he put his phone aside, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
There was an indescribable peace in my heart.
He recalled a quote from Yang Ping: "Medicine has no end; all you can do is keep moving forward."
But he also knew he could go even further. Because there was someone leading the way.
The next day, August went to work at the hospital as usual.
During the morning meeting, a young doctor asked him a question about the choice of surgical approach for scoliosis. He thought for a moment, explained the advantages and disadvantages of several approaches, and then said, "This patient's condition is special, and conventional methods cannot be used. I recommend the Yang's osteotomy."
The young doctor asked, "Yang's osteotomy technique?"
August nodded: "That's right. Starting today, I will begin to systematically teach you the Yang's osteotomy technique for treating severe scoliosis."
The young doctor nodded and wrote something down in his notebook.
He looked at the young man and suddenly remembered himself many years ago. Back then, he was just like that, chasing after his teacher with questions, desperately trying to memorize all the knowledge.
The surrounding doctors immediately became excited because the Yang osteotomy technique is particularly suitable for very severe scoliosis. However, because scoliosis surgery has a very high threshold, August had never taught them before. Now that he suddenly said he would teach them, everyone was naturally unhappy.
“Marcus, you have been my assistant for many years. Gradually, I will let you begin to perform surgeries as the lead surgeon, while the rest of you will enter the clinical experience accumulation phase,” August announced.
"Thank you, sir. I will definitely try my best." Marcus had finally waited for this day.
“Everyone, please pay attention and continue to work hard to learn Chinese, because many of Professor Yang’s papers are published in Chinese. If you want to learn the most advanced spinal surgery knowledge, you must learn Chinese in order to read the original papers,” August emphasized.
Everyone nodded confidently: "I've been learning."
Yes, they have been learning Chinese because each of them hopes to be able to read medical journals, which contain the most advanced medical knowledge in the world today.
Around noon, August received a phone call. It was from the secretary of the European Spine Surgery Society, inviting him to give a keynote speech at an international academic conference next spring.
He asked, "Where?"
The secretary said, "China, Southern Metropolis Daily."
“Okay, I’ll go.” He said without hesitation.
Southern Capital, the city where he stayed for three months, the place that changed his life.
He's going back again.
This time, he wasn't going to learn; he was going to give a report. But he knew that no matter what he reported, no matter how well he spoke, in that city, in front of that person, he would always be a student.
He recalled a phrase Robert often said in the group chat: "I am Professor Yang Ping's first direct disciple in North America."
Auguste has now defined himself as Professor Yang Ping's first direct disciple in Europe.
He himself would also teach these young people what he had learned from Yang Ping, little by little.
Just like Yang Ping did for them.
This is what inheritance is all about.
He picked up his phone and sent Yang Ping a message: "Professor, see you in Guangzhou next year."