After being separated from my family, I became a darling of the military region thanks to my medical

The Hongqi car left the airport, got onto the airport highway, and headed towards the city.

Gu Zheng sat in the passenger seat, leaning slightly to the side as he chatted with Williams in the back, while Xu Wenqiang sat between Williams and Anderson, acting as the translator.

Green sat in the third row with the young doctor from St. Mary's.

The car was heated to a high level, and a faint scent of jasmine tea filled the air.

Gu Zheng took a thermos from the front armrest and handed it to Williams.

"Old Wei, have some tea to warm yourself up. Uncle Li specially prepared jasmine tea, the first batch of this year's new tea."

Williams took the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and smelled it.

"Thanks."

He took a small sip, and his brow relaxed a little.

It must be admitted that Chinese tea is indeed delicious.

Williams held the thermos and felt his palms warm up considerably.

Seeing that he had drunk it, Gu Zheng's smile became even more genuine.

"Old Wei, you left in such a hurry last time that I didn't have time to take you to see many places."

"Stay in China a few more days this time, I'll make some arrangements and treat you all to something nice."

Xu Wenqiang turned that statement around.

Anderson perked up at the mention of this and peeked out from behind Williams.

"Mr. Gu, Arthur told us when he came back last time that the Peking duck in Beijing was delicious."

Green chimed in from the third row.

"I heard you also have a kind of hot pot called 'shuan yangrou' (steamed mutton), the kind with a copper pot and charcoal fire? I tried it once in London's Chinatown, it was alright, but they said it wasn't authentic."

Gu Zheng clapped his hands.

"Professor Green has hit the nail on the head. What kind of hot pot is that in Chinatown? That's just fooling foreigners."

"Authentic copper pot hot pot requires hand-cut mutton from Inner Mongolia. The pot is just water with a few slices of ginger and a few goji berries. You dip the meat in it, cook it a few times, and then dip it in sesame sauce, chive blossom sauce, and fermented bean curd sauce. It's so delicious."

Xu Wenqiang was halfway through translating when he found that translating the phrase "sesame paste, chive blossoms, fermented bean curd sauce" into English was really difficult, so he simply used his hands and feet to gesture for a long time.

Anderson and Green listened with shining eyes.

Anderson nudged Williams with his elbow.

"Arthur, why aren't you saying anything? Didn't you already eat?"

Williams held his thermos without saying a word.

He was rapidly calculating in his mind.

Last time I ate Peking duck, I lost a Montblanc gold pen and a custom-made leather suitcase.

If we add hot pot and mutton hotpot to the mix, the contents of the six boxes he brought will probably be enough for three meals.

"Mr. Gu, I appreciate your kindness."

Williams cleared his throat, choosing his words with extreme caution.

"But this time we are mainly here to learn, and time is very tight, so we probably won't have much free time to arrange social activities."

Gu Zheng was taken aback and turned to look at him.

"Old Wei, you're being too polite."

"Studying is studying, and eating is eating; they are two different things."

"People need food to survive. You've flown all this way, how could I not even provide you with a meal? That would be unreasonable!"

Anderson nodded repeatedly beside him.

"Exactly, Arthur, you're too reserved."

"Mr. Gu, don't listen to him. We are very much looking forward to your arrangements."

Williams turned and glanced at Anderson, his eyes filled with disappointment and frustration.

What are you expecting? Do you know that this person's dinner table is his battlefield?

Have you forgotten how he was gradually disarmed at Quanjude last time?

First, Ye Zhen used the authorship of the paper as bait, then Gu Zheng flanked from the side, taking things out one by one. After taking them all, he even packed up a duck carcass for you, laughing and saying that you should take it back to make soup for great nourishment.

That wasn't a dinner invitation.

It was a delicate surgical procedure, and the object of the operation was his wallet.

But he couldn't possibly say those words to Gu Zheng's face.

Williams gripped the thermos tightly and forced a polite smile.

"Then I shall respectfully comply."

"But Mr. Gu, I must make this clear in advance."

His gaze was fixed on Gu Zheng.

"This luggage contains my personal belongings, each item has a purpose, and I need to make sure they are intact."

After Xu Wenqiang finished translating the sentence, he secretly glanced at Gu Zheng.

Gu Zheng blinked twice.

"Old Wei, what do you mean by that?"

"Do you think I'm going to carry your suitcase and run away?"

He shook his head, a look of utter injustice on his face.

"Last time was a special case. The equipment you brought was exactly what our hospital was in dire need of. I had no other choice."

"Don't you think so, Xu Wenqiang?"

Xu Wenqiang nodded earnestly.

"Yes, it was indeed urgently needed at the time."

Williams looked at Gu Zheng, then at Xu Wenqiang.

The master and servant maintained a perfectly unified story.

He silently tightened the lid of the thermos.

Anderson and Green exchanged a glance.

Anderson's lips curled up in a relaxed smile, the kind that comes after hearing a joke. Green's lips twitched slightly, but it was more like he was pondering something—not so much that he found it funny, but rather that he was making a mental note of it.

Before they set off, they were somewhat skeptical of the experiences Williams had told them in London.

It now seems the old man didn't exaggerate.

This Chinese officer was indeed very enthusiastic, so enthusiastic that you didn't dare take your hands out of your pockets.

The convoy drove onto the highway leading to the north of the city.

On both sides of the road is the North China Plain in early spring. The freshly turned soil in the fields is a damp, dark brown, and in the distance, several gray chimneys are emitting white smoke.

Anderson pressed his face against the car window, looking out with wide curiosity.

"Mr. Gu, how much longer until we reach the Beicheng Military Region General Hospital?"

"It will take about three hours, until noon."

Gu Zheng glanced at his watch.

"Dean Zhou is already on his way. He'll treat you to lunch in Beicheng, and Ye Zhen and I will be joining him."

Williams' ears twitched.

"Will Dr. Ye come too?"

"Yes, she'll come directly over after her outpatient clinic hours end at noon."

Gu Zheng held the unlit cigarette in his mouth, his tone relaxed.

"Old Wei, don't be nervous. It's just a simple meal, home-cooked food, nothing fancy."

Williams didn't say anything.

Anderson turned his gaze away from the car window, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

"Mr. Gu, I have a personal question."

"Go ahead and ask."

"Does Dr. Ye usually cook at home?"

After Xu Wenqiang finished reading this, Gu Zheng was stunned for a moment, as if he hadn't expected to be asked this question.

Green paused for a moment while flipping through documents in the third row. He raised his eyelids slightly but didn't say anything, though his ears clearly perked up.

Gu Zheng smiled.

"She cooks at home occasionally."

"Did you do a good job?"

"not good."

Gu Zheng shook his head.

"She can burn a stir-fried vegetable three times in a row. But she studies recipes more carefully than academic papers, scrutinizing the heat and seasoning ratios over and over again, like she's doing pre-operative analysis."

"Last time I said the taste was off, she stared at me for five seconds and then said, 'Your taste judgment lacks a control group.'"

After Xu Wenqiang finished reading this, Anderson was the first to burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with laughter, and he slapped his knee.

"The lack of a control group is great!"

Williams' lips curled into a smile.

This is indeed Ye Zhen's style.

Green leaned back in the third-row seat, his lips twitching, but he didn't laugh out loud.

He glanced at the poplar trees flashing past the window, his finger unconsciously tapping twice on the document cover.

Even cooking a dish requires pre-operative analysis.

interesting.

But cooking well and performing surgery are two different things, Green thought. You can fool the tongue, but you can't fool the heart.

He lowered his head, reopened the document, and his gaze fell on the glutaraldehyde concentration parameter that he had marked in red pen.

0.6 percent, ten minutes.

Without any animal testing, it went straight to clinical trials.

After returning home, he checked all the available literature but couldn't find any prior research to support this figure.

Either this Chinese female doctor possessed some kind of basic data that they were unaware of, or—she simply took a gamble.

Green slowly closed the document, put it back in his briefcase, and zipped it up tightly.

In either case, he needs a face-to-face, plausible explanation.

The car was quiet for a while.

During the break, Xu Wenqiang poured water for the people in the back row and handed them a few pieces of peach shortbread.

Williams took the peach shortbread and took a bite. It was crispy and sweet, much better than the butter biscuits priced at three pounds each in London department stores.

As he chewed on the peach shortbread, a crack appeared in his defenses.

Gu Zheng glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Old Wei, there's something I need to tell you beforehand."

Williams stopped chewing the peach shortbread.

"you say."

"Dean Zhou's car is ahead, already taking the Gore company people to Beicheng."

"I know."

"Old Wei, at lunchtime today, the two groups will be sitting at the same table. Don't worry, no matter what they say, Ye Zhen and I won't make things difficult for you."

Xu Wenqiang reversed these words, deliberately softening his tone.

Williams looked at Gu Zheng for a while.

This young Chinese soldier has a truly infectious and relaxing smile.

Although he had been reduced to just a duck carcass last time, Williams had to admit that he hadn't been disrespected in the slightest throughout the entire process.

They were robbed, but robbed in a dignified manner.

Even after returning home, they felt that the deal was worthwhile.

What I learned during that surgery was indeed more valuable than several boxes of equipment.

"Mr. Gu, thank you for reminding me."

Williams picked up the half-eaten peach shortbread and took another bite.

Anderson listened to the whole thing from the side, his arm resting on the car window sill, his head turned to look at Gu Zheng, his eyes sparkling like a big kid who had just opened a Christmas present.

"Mr. Gu, may I have a brief chat with Dr. Ye at noon today?"

Gu Zheng glanced at him.

"What are you going to talk about?"

"Let's talk about the surgery." Anderson rubbed his hands together. "After Arthur came back, he talked for two whole hours about that valve-preserving surgery, and he used a phrase to describe Dr. Ye's suturing of the blood vessels—'like a pianist playing a concerto.'"

He leaned forward, his voice brimming with barely concealed excitement.

"I've played the piano for twenty years and stitched up my veins for twenty years, and no one has ever praised me for both of those things. I just want to see for myself what kind of person Arthur could say something like that."

After Xu Wenqiang finished reading this, Gu Zheng's expression relaxed a bit.

"Sure, no problem."

Green remained silent in the third row.

He turned his gaze from the window to Anderson's excited back of the head, and his lips curled down slightly.

Pianist. Concerto.

Anderson is easily swayed by flowery language, as was the case in London. He was different because he found at least twelve places in the paper that he considered "insufficiently described".

Twelve locations.

The more times he read it, the more questions arose. It wasn't because the paper was poorly written; quite the opposite, it was so beautifully written that it instinctively alerted him.

Throughout Green's thirty-year academic career, anything that was beautifully flawless was either a true work of genius or a carefully crafted product.

He needs to use his own eyes to determine which type of article it is.