godfather of surgery

Chapter 1327 Exclusive News
Song Ziming and Tang Shun were very happy when they returned; their speech in Stockholm, Sweden, was perfect.

Tang Shun, in particular, received likes and admiration from more than a dozen girlfriends after posting photos of his speech on his WeChat Moments. If he weren't already married, he would really like to invite more than a dozen girlfriends of different nationalities to China for another big reunion.

As the number one handsome, rich, and successful man at Sanbo Hospital, Song Ziming's charm has clearly increased significantly after taking a walk on the stage in Stockholm.

Soon, the first Monday morning of October arrived, and the weather in Nandu was refreshing. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the old banyan tree in the research institute, casting dappled patterns of light on the corridor.

Business as usual.

Tang Shun was in his office organizing a follow-up report on the Stockholm trip and revising the draft of his acceptance speech, which he had prepared "for any eventuality." Song Ziming was practicing introducing their work in a more down-to-earth tone. He had recently felt that his previous overly "lecture-like" style might not have suited the team's style.

Zhang Bo and Zhang Lin were quietly debating in their "workstation" whether or not to use sensationalist language in the title of their new science video. Meanwhile, Jiang Jitong and Chu Xiaoxiao's team were gathered around a flow cytometer, staring at the fluctuating data points on the screen, discussing how to further optimize enhancer technology.

Yang Ping arrived a little late today, at ten o'clock in the morning. As usual, there were documents to be read and several newly arrived journals on the desk.

He made himself a cup of tea, opened the latest issue of *Nature Medicine*, and found a commentary article on the heterogeneity of the tumor microenvironment, which cited several core concepts from their systems regulation theory. He read it intently, making some annotations in the margins.

The sunlight outside the window moved slowly, and the office was so quiet that the only sound was the turning of pages.

It was 3 a.m. in Stockholm, Sweden. The Nobel Prize Committee headquarters was quiet, with only security personnel conducting their routine patrol. Hours remained until the final vote and press conference that morning. The committee members were sound asleep at home, preparing for the important day ahead.

At noon Beijing time, Yang Ping had just finished a brief conference call about the academic seminar next month. He got up and walked to the window, stretching his somewhat stiff shoulders.

At 5:00 AM Stockholm time, the city was still asleep. But some staff members of the Nobel Committee were already up, preparing materials for the morning's meetings. The press conference room was undergoing final setup, with sound and lighting equipment being checked.

It was 12:30 a.m. Beijing time, and Yang Ping was about to go for lunch. He had just reached the office door when the landline on his desk suddenly rang.

The ringtone echoed in the quiet corridor. Yang Ping turned back, glanced at the caller ID—a long international number prefixed with +46.

The area code for Sweden.

It was 5:30 a.m. in Stockholm, and the sky was just beginning to lighten. President Carlson had already gotten up and would be leaving for the Karolinska Institute in half an hour to begin her final preparations.

Yang Ping returned to his desk but didn't answer the phone immediately. He remembered that Mainstein had said that notification calls usually came in the early morning in Stockholm, which corresponds to noon in Beijing.

He picked up the receiver when the phone rang for the fifth time.

"Hello, hello."

A slightly aged but clearly articulated English female voice came from the other end of the phone, with a gentle Swedish accent: "Are you Professor Yang Ping?"

"I'm."

"Professor Yang Ping, hello. I am Anna Carlson, Chair of the Nobel Prize Committee in Physiology or Medicine."

Yang Ping said calmly, "Professor Carlson, hello."

“I am honored to inform you,” Carlson’s voice came through the transoceanic telephone line, clear and solemn, “that the Nobel Committee of the Karolinska Institute of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences has decided to award this year’s Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in recognition of your development and validation of the theory of regulation of human systems, which has provided a groundbreaking framework for understanding complex diseases and developing new treatment strategies.”

There was a moment of silence on the phone, followed by a faint hum of electricity—proof that the signal had traveled eight thousand kilometers across Eurasia.

“The official press conference will be held at 11:00 a.m. Stockholm time,” Carlson continued, “which is 6:00 p.m. where you are. As is customary, we expect the winner to announce the news after the press conference. However, we will release a press release to the media about an hour before the press conference. So you will have a few hours to prepare.”

Yang Ping glanced at the clock on the wall: 12:37 AM. There were still more than five hours until the press conference, and about four hours until the press release was issued.

Thank you. I understand.

“Professor Yang Ping,” Carlson’s voice held a hint of amusement, “you sound very calm, without a trace of surprise?”

"Perhaps it's because this is the second time he's won the award..." Yang Ping explained.

A soft laugh came from the other end of the phone: "But you seemed very calm even when you won your first award, which is a great mindset. Keep it up. So, shall we meet in Stockholm in December? The awards ceremony is on the afternoon of December 10th, which is the evening of December 10th in Beijing time."

See you in December.

The phone rang softly as the receiver was put back into the landline, and the office fell silent once more.

At 5:40 a.m. Stockholm time, Chairman Carlson hung up the phone and nodded to his assistant. The assistant immediately began preparing for the next notification call. As is customary, the committee would notify all laureates simultaneously.

Yang Ping stood there, looking out the window. The sun was shining brightly, and the national flag in the institute's courtyard fluttered gently in the breeze. He remembered many years ago, when he was still a resident physician, the feeling he had when he walked out of the hospital after finishing a night shift and saw the first light of dawn—exhausted, but full of hope.

The phone vibrated; it was Mainstein calling. Mainstein had clearly been up all night, waiting for news.

“Professor! My God! Congratulations! I knew it!” Mainstein’s voice was almost cracking with excitement. “President Carlson’s office just notified me! You did it! We did it! You’ve won another award, my God.”

"Thank you, Professor Mainstein..."

“No, don’t call me professor, please call me by my first name!” Mainstein interrupted him. “Professor, you always forget how to address me properly.”

“Okay, Mainstein!” Yang Ping corrected.

Mannstein seemed even more excited than Yang Ping himself: "This is what you deserve for your work. Listen, it's going to be crazy from now on—media, invitations, everything… You need a plan. Also, remember to prepare a short statement… This is your second award, your second time! My goodness, you're so young, and you've won your second award so quickly…"

While Mainstein rattled off various suggestions on the phone, Yang Ping looked out the window. Several students were laughing and talking as they walked towards the cafeteria, completely unaware of what had just transpired in the building. In the lab, centrifuges were still running; an experiment was likely in the midst of a crucial step.

Everything was exactly the same as it had been five minutes ago, yet everything was different.

……

Yang Ping did not immediately tell everyone the news.

He calmly shut down his computer, locked his office, and headed to the cafeteria as usual. At noon, the cafeteria was bustling with activity as people discussed the weekend's ball games, newly released movies, or interesting stories from the labs or the ward.

Tang Shun and Song Ziming sat by the window, eating and discussing something. They waved to Yang Ping when they saw him.

"Professor, over here!" Song Ziming called out.

Yang Ping carried the tray over and sat down next to them.

Tang Shun and Song Ziming took turns giving informal reports to Yang Ping.

Yang Ping ate his meal slowly, listening to the noisy chatter around him. Zhang Bo and Zhang Lin were arguing heatedly about a data visualization problem at a table not far away. Chu Xiaoxiao and her team members sat together, eating and drawing something on a piece of paper, probably another experimental design.

It's 6:00 AM Stockholm time, and the sky is just beginning to lighten. The Nobel Committee staff are making final confirmations. The press release is ready and will be issued in four hours.

At 1 p.m. Beijing time, Yang Ping returned to his office after lunch and needed to call Xiao Su.

"Hello? What's wrong? Why are you calling at this hour?" Xiao Su's voice sounded a little surprised. She was at home preparing to take Xiao Shu for a walk in the afternoon.

"I have something to tell you," Yang Ping said calmly, "I've won another Nobel Prize."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "Yang Ping...you...you say it again?"

The Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine is awarded for theories on the regulation of human systems.

"Really?" Xiao Su's voice began to tremble. "Now? When did this happen?"

"I just received a call; the official announcement will be at 6 PM."

Xiao Su burst into tears of joy on the other end of the phone, but quickly held them back: "I...I don't know what to say...Xiao Shu is sleeping...I..."

"It's nothing, I just wanted to let you know," Yang Ping said. "I'll be home for dinner as usual tonight, around seven o'clock."

"Okay...okay...I'll wait for you."

After hanging up the phone, Yang Ping thought for a moment. He still needed to call Director Han, Dean Xia, and Professor Su, but he decided to wait until the announcement was made in the afternoon before making those calls.

At 9:00 AM Stockholm time, staff were making final equipment adjustments in the Karolinska Institute's press conference room. Reporters from major media outlets around the world were arriving, signing in, and collecting materials.

A little after 5 p.m., something unusual began to happen at the Sanbo Institute. First, several administrative staff members' phones rang frequently, and then some researchers' phones started receiving inquiries via text message from colleagues both at home and abroad. The news spread like ripples on water, starting from the center and spreading outwards.

Tang Shun was the first to sense something was wrong. He received a long-distance call from a friend who was a visiting scholar abroad. The friend's first words were: "Old Tang! Congratulations! Professor Yang from your institute won the Nobel Prize!"

"What? Where did you hear that from?" Tang Shun was stunned.

"It's already spreading within academic circles! Some media outlets in Sweden got the news in advance!"

Tang Shun hung up the phone and exchanged a glance with Song Ziming. The two rushed out of the office almost simultaneously and ran towards Yang Ping's room.

"Professor! There's something going on outside..." Tang Shun pushed open the door, but stopped midway through his sentence.

Yang Ping was standing by the window, his back to them, seemingly admiring the view outside. Hearing the sound, he turned around, his face expressionless.

"Did you hear that?" Yang Ping asked.

"Is it true?" Song Ziming's voice trembled slightly.

"I'll take a few minutes after get off work to have a short meeting. I'll give you a formal notification then," Yang Ping said. "Now, go back to what you're supposed to be doing."

The two left the office and stood facing each other in the hallway.

"So...it's true?" Song Ziming murmured.

“It should be…” Tang Shun took a deep breath, “Let’s go back to work. Don’t let anyone know we know.”

By 5:30 PM, the news had spread throughout the research institute. Strangely, however, no one discussed it openly. Everyone maintained a tacit calm, though their eye contact carried a certain tension. Work in the lab continued as usual, but everyone's actions seemed to carry a more solemn weight.

……

At 6:05, the large conference room was already packed. Everyone was there, including administrative and support staff who rarely showed up. A tense silence filled the air.

Yang Ping pushed open the door and came in. He was wearing his usual white lab coat and holding a thin folder in his hand.

Everyone stood up instantly. No one gave the order, but applause erupted at that moment, surging like a tidal wave and lasting for a full two minutes. Some people began to wipe away tears, while others tightly gripped the hands of the people next to them.

As the applause from Yang Ping and others subsided, he gestured for everyone to sit down.

"I think everyone has already heard the news," he began simply and directly, "Yes, the theory of human system regulation has won this year's Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine."

As soon as he finished speaking, applause erupted again, even more enthusiastic than before, mixed with cheers and whistles.

Yang Ping paused for a moment, then continued, "This honor belongs to each and every one of us. It belongs to every researcher, technician, administrative staff, and logistics personnel present here. Without your daily dedication, there would be no today."

His gaze swept over everyone: "But what I want to say most today is that this award won't change anything. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, the lab lights will be on as usual; the centrifuges will be running as usual; and patients will come to the ward as usual. Our job is to understand life and help patients, not to chase awards."

“The core of system regulation theory is balance,” Yang Ping said in a steady and powerful voice. “And right now, what we need to maintain most is inner balance. Don’t let honor go to our heads, don’t let attention disrupt our rhythm, and don’t let expectations crush our steps.”

He opened the folder, which contained only one page: "So I'm announcing a few things: First, all external interview requests will be handled by the Publicity Department of the Academy of Medical Sciences, and the institute will not directly receive media inquiries; second, all academic cooperation invitations will be submitted to the committee for review according to the normal procedures; third, everyone's job responsibilities remain unchanged; fourth, there will be extra food in the cafeteria tonight, on my behalf, after the meeting."

The meeting room was quiet, and everyone was listening attentively.

"Finally," Yang Ping closed the folder, "remember why we are here today, not for a medal, but for the patients who are still waiting for answers, for the mysteries of life that have not yet been solved."

The meeting lasted only fifteen minutes. But everyone left the meeting room with a more confident stride.

……

The cafeteria was bustling with activity at 6:30 p.m. Many hearty dishes had been added, yet the atmosphere remained surprisingly orderly. People congratulated each other, but discussions about work were also taking place.

"Teacher Tang, I still need to go over that data model with you..."

"Xiaoxiao, I've read the revision comments on your paper. There are a few points..."

"Zhang Bo, is the script for next week's science popularization live stream finished?"

"Zhang Lin! Don't you always have insider information? Why didn't you come out to announce any exclusive news this time..."

"This news is exclusive to the professor!"

Yang Ping carried his tray, ate a little something symbolically, and sat down at each table. When he got to Zhang Bo's table, Zhang Lin was so excited he was incoherent: "Professor! I...I don't know what to say!"

"Then eat more," Yang Ping said with a smile, placing a piece of pork rib on his plate. "You'll have the energy to keep fighting counterfeits when you're full."

When they reached Chu Xiaoxiao's table, several young people stood up, their eyes red.

"Sit down, sit down," Yang Ping waved his hand. "The data won't automatically become better just because you won an award. I want to see your new analysis tomorrow."

At 12:30 PM Stockholm time, the press conference had concluded. Yang Ping's photo and a brief introduction to the systemic regulation theory appeared on the front pages of major media outlets worldwide. In answering reporters' questions, Chairman Carlson specifically mentioned: "This is a revolutionary study about a shift in medical thinking; it represents a completely new perspective on how we view disease and treatment."

At 7 PM Beijing time, Yang Ping returned home. Xiao Shu had already finished watching cartoons, and Xiao Su was waiting for him in the living room, with the TV playing news on mute.

"You're back?" Xiao Su greeted her.

"Hmm, where's the little tree?"

"I just finished watching an animated film."

Little Tree, sitting on the sofa, turned her head and saw him, her eyes lighting up: "Dad!"