godfather of surgery

Chapter 1371 The First Personal Disciple Overseas

Chapter 1371 The First Personal Disciple Overseas

Yang Ping's WeChat rang again.

He picked up his phone and glanced at it; it was a message Robert had sent in the "International Academic Group".

"Professor, I have an urgent request! Tomorrow, a New York Knicks player will undergo ACL reconstruction surgery. His agent insists that the Yang method be used, claiming that I am the only one in North America skilled in this technique. However, I have not yet fully grasped the essence of this complex reconstruction. I humbly request your guidance and instruction!"

show!

The group chat exploded instantly.

August of Germany posted an eye-rolling emoji: "I was strongly opposed to your retirement from the literary world."

Robert's reply came quickly: "August, you're making good progress."

He added another voice message: "Come on, repeat after me: The Cowherd loves the Weaver Girl, the Weaver Girl misses the Cowherd, the Cowherd misses the Weaver Girl year after year, the Weaver Girl misses the Cowherd again and again..."

Damn it, who can keep up with this? When reading the traditional Chinese vertical version of the "Huangdi Neijing," they throw out ancient poems all the time. Now, they directly use classical Chinese in conversations. There's no way to keep up with any of them.

August could only remain silent; there was nothing he could do. This guy was just too arrogant, incredibly arrogant.

The group chat fell silent, then filled with ellipses and laughing-crying emojis.

Woodhead, who was particularly impressed by the Chinese, was utterly humbled: "Brother Luo! Please give me your guidance!"

Yang Ping smiled and shook his head, then typed back, "Send me the medical records and surgical plan to take a look."

Less than a second later, Robert's private message arrived: "Professor! You finally replied to me! I'll post it right away! You have to save me. I'm already famous. Everyone knows I'm your first overseas student. The surgery absolutely cannot be messed up. If it is, it will damage your reputation."

Yang Ping opened the medical records and surgical plan he had sent and looked at them carefully. The injury was indeed serious, and it would take some effort to restore his mobility to the greatest extent possible.

Robert, in his forties, is the director of sports medicine at the New York Special Surgery Hospital and president of the North American Association for Sports Medicine. Any one of these titles would be enough to make him a prominent figure in the medical field. But in this WeChat group, among these top international doctors who have pursued or are currently pursuing advanced degrees at the three-doctoral level, he is merely an active student, considering himself the class monitor.

Robert only studied at Sanbo for three months. He had an exceptional talent for languages, and he quickly learned Chinese—not just the halting "hello" and "thank you," but truly fluent. He could chat with patients in Chinese, tell jokes in Chinese, and even haggle with the woman selling pancakes on the street in Chinese.

For those three months, he followed Yang Ping around every day. He watched surgeries, asked questions, and took notes. Sometimes Yang Ping would make rounds until eight or nine o'clock at night, and he would follow until eight or nine o'clock. The only thing he didn't follow was when Yang Ping went to the bathroom. Sometimes Yang Ping would say, "You can go back first," but he would shake his head and say, "No, no, in China this is called 'stealing the teacher.' It's a rare opportunity, and I can't waste a single minute."

During his advanced studies, he became sworn brothers with Director Gao of the Department of Sports Medicine at Sanbo Hospital. During that time, in order to practice his Chinese, he chatted with Director Gao on WeChat day and night, which made Director Gao's wife suspect that he was having an affair, causing the couple to quarrel.

On the last day of his advanced studies, Robert treated Yang Ping to dinner. After drinking too much, he said with a flushed face, "Professor, I know I'm not qualified to call you teacher, after all, I've only been with you for three months. But from today onwards, I will consider you my teacher. I am your only direct disciple in North America. If anyone dares to say a bad word about you in the future, I will be the first to object."

Yang Ping initially thought he was drunk and talking nonsense, but later realized he was serious.

Over the years, Robert has told everyone he meets that Yang Ping is his teacher. At various academic conferences, whenever there are Chinese experts present, he will introduce himself in Chinese: "I am Professor Yang Ping's student, and I work in New York." When someone asked him how long he had studied with Yang Ping, he said confidently, "Three months, but as Confucius said, 'Among three people walking together, there must be one who can teach me.' My three months of study with him is better than three years of study with others."

No one can refute his logic.

He brought Yang Ping's surgical techniques back to the United States, combining them with his own experience to make many adaptive improvements and developments. He is now a recognized top expert in North American sports medicine, and many athletes from professional teams such as the New York Knicks, Brooklyn Nets, and New York Rangers are his patients. Hollywood stars, Wall Street tycoons, and political figures who want to schedule surgery with him have to wait in line for six months.

But whenever he encounters a complex case, he still contacts Yang Ping immediately. He sends WeChat messages, emails, and even makes overseas calls, sometimes just to confirm a single detail. When Yang Ping is busy and replies slowly, he becomes incredibly anxious, spamming the group chat with messages like, "Is the professor giving up on me?" "Does the professor think I'm too stupid?" "Is the professor giving extra tutoring to other students?"

Auguste said he had "histrionic personality disorder," but he wasn't annoyed. Instead, he smiled and replied, "It's called respecting teachers and valuing the way. You don't understand."

The phone rang again; it was a message from Robert: "Professor, have you seen it? Have you seen it? How did it go?"

Yang Ping replied, "I've looked at it. With your skills, there's no problem. It's just that the position of the femoral drill hole could be moved outward by two millimeters. This would make the ligament tension more ideal."

Robert replied instantly: "Two millimeters! Got it! I got it! Professor, you're my savior! If the surgery goes well tomorrow, I'll treat you to a big meal. Oh wait, you're in Nandu, and I'm in New York, so I'll send you a box of the best steaks!"

Yang Ping smiled but didn't reply.

He knew Robert was that kind of person. Enthusiastic, lively, and a bit talkative, but genuinely respectful and grateful to him. Over the years, Robert had helped him promote many technologies and introduced him to numerous collaborations in North America. Whenever someone asked why he worked so hard, he would say, "This is my teacher's business; if I don't help, who will?"

Even more outrageous is that Yang Ping's academic rise over the years has been suppressed by certain international forces several times. Robert's stance is clear and firm. He has stood up without hesitation and done his best to protect his teacher and speak out for him, sometimes even disregarding his own career prospects.

The group chat started to get lively again.

Robert posted a screenshot of his chat history with Yang Ping, highlighting the phrase "two millimeters," with the caption: "See this? This is my teacher, the most amazing doctor in the universe. One of his words is priceless, and I'm giving it to you for free today. You're welcome."

August replied, "Can you be a little more discreet? You're not the only teacher the professor has."

Robert replied instantly: "But I am the only direct disciple in North America, the only one! Direct disciple! The first direct disciple of the professor abroad, the first one! Direct disciple! Do you understand the significance of that?"

Griffin sent a facepalm emoji: "I don't know this person."

“I was the professor’s first personally trained overseas disciple, okay? I arrived at Sanbo Hospital for further studies a week earlier than you,” Takahashi said immediately.

Robert was not one to be trifled with as "the professor's first direct disciple overseas": "You? You think that studying abroad is the same as direct instruction? How naive! I served tea to my teacher, but you didn't, so you're just a student, while I'm the direct disciple? Do you understand?"

Takahashi was almost stunned by what he said, but he couldn't refute it because it seemed that such a thing had happened. At the time, in the doctor's office, with many people watching, this guy seemed to have made a cup of tea and offered it to Professor Yang with both hands, and even wanted to kneel down and kowtow, but Professor Yang stopped him. Finally, with his insistence, Professor Yang accepted the cup of tea and drank it.

People from other groups also started to chime in, some laughing, some speechless, and some rolling their eyes. Robert remained calm amidst the teasing and continued sending his smug emojis.

As Yang Ping watched the group making a ruckus, he suddenly recalled how Robert had studied at Sanbo back in the day.

Back then, he wasn't such a "drama queen." He would follow behind every day, observing intently, asking questions earnestly, occasionally speaking a few words of Chinese, and then scratching his head shyly. Once, when he went on rounds with Yang Ping, an old lady asked him, "Young man, are you a foreigner? Your Chinese is really good." He blushed immediately and stammered, "It's...it's alright."

Later, as they got to know each other better, he gradually opened up. Once, Yang Ping invited him to dinner, and he ordered a table full of Sichuan dishes. He was sweating profusely from the spiciness, but kept saying "delicious." Yang Ping asked him, "Can you eat spicy food?" He said, "No, but I want to try. In China, if you don't eat spicy food, you haven't truly experienced life. I want to experience everything. Three months is too short; I want to make the most of every minute."

For those three months, he truly studied every single minute. He spent his days in surgeries, his nights organizing notes, and even weekends were spent visiting other departments, chatting with people, and practicing his spoken English. Before leaving, he showed Yang Ping a thick notebook filled with his handwritten notes, all in Chinese, detailing surgical procedures, technical points, and every important word Yang Ping had said. On the title page was a line that read: "A teacher is one who imparts knowledge, teaches skills, and resolves doubts. Thank you, teacher." Yang Ping continued reviewing the materials Robert had sent, then replied with a detailed voice message, explaining the key points of the surgery again. After sending it, he put down his phone and returned to his work.

The next evening, the phone rang again; it was Robert again.

This time it wasn't a message, it was a photo. The photo showed his operating room; the operating lights were on, all the instruments were set up, and a doctor in scrubs was preparing. The caption read: "Professor, everything is ready. I've remembered your two millimeters. Wait for my good news!"

Yang Ping replied with a "Go for it!" emoji.

Three hours later, Robert's second message arrived. This time it was a photo of him and his patient; the patient was lying on the operating table, giving a thumbs-up, and Robert was standing beside him, also giving a thumbs-up. The caption read: "Surgery successful! Thank you, my teacher!"

The group chat buzzed again. August sent a clapping emoji, Woodhead sent a flower, and others chimed in with congratulations. Amidst the likes, Robert beamed with pride: "Another perfect day."

August couldn't stand it anymore: "Robert, can you please stop being so high-profile every time?"

Robert replied, "I call this gratitude, do you have a problem with that?"

Woodhead sent a laughing-crying emoji: "Can you two please stop arguing in the group chat every day?"

Robert replied, "This isn't an argument, it's an academic exchange. August is jealous of me, and I'm teaching him what respect for teachers means."

The group chat was filled with ellipses again.

As Yang Ping watched the group making a ruckus, he suddenly felt a pang of emotion.

Robert's phone rang; it was the hospital. A patient had encountered a minor problem after surgery, and the on-call doctor was unsure what to do, so they asked him to come over. Without a word, he hung up and headed out.

As he reached the door, he glanced back at the photograph on the office wall. It was taken when he was studying at Sanbo; Yang Ping stood in the middle, and he stood beside her, both smiling brightly. It was his most treasured photo, which he had brought back from China and kept in the most prominent place in his office ever since.

Whenever someone asks who he is, he says, "My teacher, Professor Yang Ping from China, the best doctor in the world."

The patient's condition was not serious after the surgery. Robert finished his treatment, and it was already 7 p.m. He returned to his office, checked his phone, and saw that the group chat was still buzzing. Someone had shared a news link about today's surgery, titled "NBA Star's Knee Surgery Successful, Surgeon Says It Was Thanks to Chinese Technology."

He put down his phone, leaned back in his chair, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

He picked up his phone and sent a message to Yang Ping: "Professor, today's surgery was a success, thank you."

This time he didn't send a voice message or any emojis, just a simple line of text.

After a while, Yang Ping replied with three words: "I know, you already said that."

He suddenly remembered that, yes, he seemed to have already said that.

The next morning, Robert reappeared in the group chat, as active as ever.

He posted a photo of his breakfast, which was Nandu Rice Noodle Rolls. The caption read: "Breakfast today, authentic Nandu Rice Noodle Rolls, exclusive to New York. Sign up if you want some, and I'll send them to you."

August's first reply: "You made this yourself?"

Robert replied matter-of-factly, "Of course not, it was my wife who made it; she learned it from me."

August sent a facepalm emoji: "Your wife?"

Everyone knows that Robert is a staunch non-marriage advocate; he has had dozens of girlfriends, so how could he possibly have a wife?

"Yes, my wife."

"You're married?"

Everyone was surprised.

"Can't you have a wife if you don't get married? Do you have to get married to have a wife? Is there a direct connection between having a wife and getting married?"

Everyone was speechless; Robert was simply using the word "wife" to refer to his current lover.

"I just like being called 'wife,' is that wrong?"

"Okay, okay, don't get excited!"

"Is your wife Chinese?"

Robert said, "No, she's American, but I taught her how to make rice noodle rolls. A good teacher produces a good student, you know?"

The group chat was filled with ellipses again.

Yang Ping saw these messages, smiled, and didn't reply.

He knew that this was Robert—always lively, always energetic, always referring to himself as "Yang Ping's student." But he was also genuinely serious, truly hardworking, and truly wanted to do his best in every surgery.

Such a person is worth being friends with.

The phone rang again. It was a private message from Robert: "Professor, the rice noodle rolls I mentioned earlier are real. When are you coming to New York? I'll have my wife make them for you. I guarantee they'll be authentic."

Yang Ping replied, "Okay, I'll go when I have the chance."

Robert replied instantly: "Then it's settled! I'll be waiting for you! When you arrive, I'll have the entire New York Knicks team bow to you! I'll have those Hollywood stars present you with flowers! I'll have..."

Yang Ping didn't finish reading it before smiling and putting his phone aside.

There's just no way to deal with Robert.