MMB Chapter 1450 An Ran's Doubtful Father
Chapter 1450 An Ran's Doubtful Father
The laboratory was quiet, with only the occasional soft clinking of various glasswares and the very slight gurgling sound of liquids being heated.
Chen Jun was completely immersed in the process. The vast knowledge and profound intuition of a master-level pharmacist flowed and resonated within his consciousness like a boundless galaxy. He didn't need precise weighing tools; when he picked up herbs or chemical reagents with his fingertips, the exquisite control over the quantities was ingrained in his instincts, effortless and precise. If anyone else were present at this moment, witnessing his artful and fluid operation, they would be astonished and doubt their own eyes—this completely transcended the conventional pharmacist's reliance on precision instruments; it was more like a dialogue with the materials themselves.
Time slipped away quietly as I focused on my work, and the sunlight outside the window shifted imperceptibly.
"Tuk, Tuk, Tuk..."
A soft, persistent knocking sounded from outside the heavy, soundproof door of the laboratory. However, Chen Jun's mind was completely focused on the gradually merging and subtly changing medicinal liquid before him; the sounds from the outside world were as if blocked by an invisible barrier, unable to penetrate his senses at all.
Outside the door, the dean held a tray full of the necessary medicines, a hint of anxiety showing on his face. He pressed his ear close to the door to listen, but could only faintly hear the sounds of instruments running inside; there was no response.
"Dean, is General Chen... really inside? We've been knocking for so long." Director Mu beside him couldn't help but ask in a low voice, his eyes filled with doubt.
“Absolutely true. I personally escorted him in, watched him begin, and I closed the door myself.” The dean frowned slightly, his tone certain, but his eyes also revealed uncertainty. “He said he needed these drugs to continue the experiment… He was probably too engrossed in it and didn’t hear me.”
As he spoke, the dean knocked on the door a few more times with greater force and a clear rhythm, even raising his voice: "General Chen? General Chen? The medicine you requested has arrived!"
Inside the door, all was silent except for their own breathing and the faint echoes from the distance in the corridor.
Director Mu pondered for a moment. As a senior physician, he could better understand the state of being immersed in exploration: "Top pharmacists or researchers may indeed enter a state of 'flow' during key experimental phases, blocking out all external interference. They may really not be able to hear anything."
The dean glanced at the precious medicinal herbs and reagents, some of which had been specially procured, on the tray in his hand, then at the tightly closed door, and finally sighed helplessly: "Well... we can only go in directly. I hope we won't disturb him."
He took a deep breath, swiped his access card to unlock the electronic door, and gently pushed open the heavy laboratory door.
The scene inside came into view. Chen Jun was standing in front of the central control panel, his back to the door, slightly bent over, intently observing the churning and changing liquid in the reactor. His movements were steady and precise; adding catalyst, adjusting the temperature, recording data… every step was smooth and natural, as if he were one with the entire experimental apparatus. His entire mind seemed focused on that small vessel, completely unaware of the door opening behind him and the two people entering.
Director Mu watched Chen Jun's retreating figure, his eyes filled with deep emotion and respect. This complete immersion in his professional world, this state of being oblivious to his surroundings, was truly the demeanor of a master. He tugged at the dean's sleeve, signaling him to be quiet and wait patiently.
Perhaps the experiment had reached a brief turning point, or perhaps it was some kind of intuition, but Chen Jun finally straightened up slowly, seemingly letting out a sigh of relief, before noticing someone behind him. He turned around, his face showing no displeasure at being disturbed, and his gaze fell directly on the tray in the dean's hands, asking, "Did you bring all the medicine I requested?"
"I brought it..." The dean finally snapped out of his solemn and focused state and quickly stepped forward, carefully placing the tray on the empty space next to the workbench.
Chen Jun nodded, his gaze sweeping over the items on the tray. Once he confirmed everything was correct, he said nothing more. He reached for a few items and, almost without hesitation, added them to the pot of liquid in front of him, which had already taken on a strangely clear luster, according to the proportions and order he had mentally rehearsed countless times. Immediately, his attention returned entirely to the experiment itself, his eyes sharply observing every subtle change in the liquid caused by the addition of the new ingredients, his fingers constantly adjusting the temperature control knob or the parameters of the recorder. He seemed to once again regard the dean and Director Mu beside him as just another part of the laboratory background, completely ignoring them.
The dean and Director Mu exchanged a glance, both seeing helplessness and astonishment in each other's eyes. They dared not utter a sound or move around, afraid that the slightest noise would disturb this seemingly delicate yet potentially crucial process. They could only stand quietly to the side, like two most loyal spectators.
About ten minutes later, Chen Jun stopped all operations. He took out a special dropper, drew a tiny drop of the final product from the reactor, and added it to several test solutions that had been prepared beforehand. He carefully observed the color change and precipitation reaction. Then, he placed the product under a high-powered microscope and stared at it for a moment. Finally, he let out a long sigh, his tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and a look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.
He quickly dispensed the finished medicine into several sterile, sealed vials, picked up one of them, turned around, and handed it to Director Mu, who had been waiting quietly.
"Please take this medicine to my father-in-law immediately and make sure he takes it on time." Chen Jun's tone returned to its usual calm. "This is only the first course of treatment. To completely eliminate the hidden dangers and consolidate the therapeutic effect, at least five more courses of treatment with different focuses will be needed. I will continue to prepare them here."
Director Mu, somewhat bewildered, took the bottle of medicine, still slightly warm and with an indescribable color, its weight slightly noticeable in his hand. He opened his mouth, a flood of questions welling up—what was the mechanism of action of this medicine? How was its safety verified? Did the dosage need to be adjusted based on the reaction? But looking at Chen Jun's calm and confident eyes, and recalling the incredible ten-minute surgery, he forcefully suppressed all his questions. In the end, he simply nodded solemnly: "Okay, I'll deliver it personally and make sure it's taken on time."
After Director Mu, carrying the medicine, and the dean were "invited" out of the laboratory by Chen Jun, the dean couldn't help but lower his voice and ask incredulously in the corridor, "Old Mu, this... this is done? This hastily prepared stuff, can it really be given directly to the patient? And a pancreatic cancer patient after surgery?"
Director Mu glanced down at the seemingly ordinary yet mysteriously potent medicine in his hand, recalling the ten minutes he had witnessed in the lab—Chen Jun's almost instinctive precision, his near-intuitive control over the drug's properties, and his calm confidence during the final test. He slowly exhaled, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "It's hard to believe, but from what I saw… his entire process was infinitely more skillful and confident than our hospital's most senior pharmacist. It wasn't like he was experimenting; it was more like he was… replicating a formula he already knew by heart. Perhaps we really are witnessing a therapy that transcends conventional understanding."
Upon hearing this, the dean's astonishment deepened. He rubbed his hands together, both excited and apprehensive: "If... I mean if, this medicine really works, and combined with his miraculous surgical skills, it completely cures late-stage pancreatic cancer... My God, this will not only be a medical miracle, but a groundbreaking breakthrough that will overturn modern cancer treatment concepts and shake the world!"
three days later.
In the quiet, sunlit corridor of the hospital ward, a small "miracle" is unfolding silently.
An Qiang, Chen Jun's father-in-law, dressed in a blue and white striped hospital gown, stood in an open space by the corridor window, slowly practicing a simplified version of Tai Chi. His movements were graceful, his breathing steady, and while each move wasn't particularly precise or powerful, it was fluid and natural. Fine beads of sweat even appeared on his forehead, and his face was rosy. Anyone looking at him would find it hard to believe that this was a patient who had just undergone major surgery to remove late-stage pancreatic cancer lesions three days prior.
In fact, An Qiang himself was completely unaware of the severity of his condition. His daughter and wife gave him the same story, only telling him that it was a "severe inflammation" that required a minor surgery, and that he would need to be observed and recuperate for a few days after the surgery. He felt that apart from some slight pain in the wound, he didn't have much discomfort and was in good spirits, so with the doctor's tacit approval, he began to get out of bed and engage in these gentle activities.
Unbeknownst to many, a number of medical staff had quietly gathered at both ends of the corridor and at the entrances of nearby wards. There were doctors, nurses, and experts from other departments who had rushed over upon hearing the news. They pretended to be passing by or discussing work, but their eyes were all focused on An Qiang, and whispers echoed softly.
"Did you see that? She's really practicing Tai Chi... and she looks so healthy!"
"On the third day after surgery! This level of mobility, this mental state... After major surgery for late-stage pancreatic cancer? Who would believe it?"
"Could it be... a misdiagnosis? I heard that Dr. Li, the attending physician who returned from overseas, has been summoned for a talk by higher-ups, who questioned his diagnostic abilities..."
"Impossible! I've reviewed all the imaging and pathology reports repeatedly; it's definitely late-stage, the location and extent of the lesion are clearly defined. I've also reviewed the surgical records; the lesion was removed very cleanly. That's the most unbelievable part!"
"It seems... our hospital, no, the entire medical community, is really about to face an earthquake."
After finishing his set of punches, An Qiang slowly came to a stop, only then noticing that there seemed to be quite a few more people around him, and their gazes were subtly fixed on him. Puzzled, he wiped his sweat and walked back to the ward. He whispered to his daughter An Ran, who was peeling an apple, and his wife sitting beside him, "An Ran, Mom, have you noticed? These past few days, doctors and nurses have been looking at me in the corridor with strange looks, like they're quite surprised. Just now, when I was practicing my punches, they surrounded me again. Could it be... that I have something more serious than a minor ailment?"
An Ran paused slightly in her hand holding the fruit knife, then a bright smile bloomed on her face, and she said in a relaxed tone, "Dad, you're overthinking it! Is it possible that when you practice Tai Chi, your otherworldly and masterly demeanor is so captivating that it stunned them all? They thought you were incredibly cool!"
“Yes, yes, yes!” An Qiang’s wife immediately chimed in with a smile, but her eyes quickly exchanged a glance with her daughter. “Old An, don’t even mention them, I feel so much more energetic just looking at you. Your punches are much better than those old guys in the park before you retired!”
After being coaxed by his wife and daughter, An Qiang's doubts dissipated by most, and he couldn't help but smile smugly. He laughed twice and said, "Really? I knew it! Looks like your dad still has the genes!" He even went to the mirror in the ward, looked at himself, and straightened his hospital gown, quite pleased with himself.
However, for the next half day, this feeling of being "attended" only intensified. Medical staff of different backgrounds came in under various pretexts to measure more detailed vital signs, inquire about more trivial aspects of his recovery, and some even meticulously recorded details of his eating, sleeping, and activities in notebooks. The patient in the next bed also underwent examinations, but the frequency and level of detail were noticeably different.
An Qiang's doubts resurfaced, growing stronger with each passing moment. After another doctor in a white coat, who appeared to be a leader, finished a thorough questioning session and left, he closed the ward door and looked at his wife and daughter with a serious expression.
“My dear wife, Anran, tell me honestly, what…what illness do I have this time?” Anqiang’s voice turned somber. “Low blood sugar? Or just a common inflammation? Why all this fuss, with wave after wave of people coming to examine me and take statements? Old Zhang next door also had surgery, why didn’t he get this treatment? Are you hiding something from me? Is it…something serious?” He paused, a terrifying thought surfacing, his voice trembling slightly, “Could it be…cancer? Late stage? I…do I not have much time left, is this just a final burst of energy before death?”
Seeing the genuine fear and searching in her father's eyes, An Ran knew that continuing to hide the truth would only increase his psychological burden and hinder his recovery. Now that her father was recovering exceptionally well, with all his indicators improving, it was time to tell him part of the truth.
She took her father's hand, gesturing for him to sit down, her expression earnest yet gentle: "Dad, don't overthink it, listen to me. Your illness is indeed more serious than we initially told you. It's a pancreatic problem, and it's already reached a relatively late stage."
An Qiang's face paled instantly, and his fingers tightened slightly.
An Ran immediately squeezed his hand tightly, continuing firmly, "But! I want to emphasize this 'but'—your illness is cured! The surgery was extremely successful, and the follow-up treatment was also in place. Your excellent recovery is the best proof! The doctors and nurses came here partly because they needed to closely monitor the postoperative recovery data of such special cases as yours, which is very important medical information; and partly..."
She paused briefly, looking into her father's eyes: "It's also because the doctor who operated on you used a very special method, and the results exceeded everyone's expectations. You could say it created a medical miracle. That's why everyone is so interested, wanting to witness and record this 'miracle' recovery process firsthand. It's that simple. All you need to do now is relax, cooperate with your recovery, take your medication on time, and you'll be discharged healthy soon!"
An Qiang listened blankly, processing the information in his daughter's words. The illness was serious (cancer, late stage)—but she was cured—the treatment method was special, a miracle—so she was the subject of much attention and research…
"Wait a minute," he suddenly seized on a crucial point, his eyes widening, "You said the surgeon... used a special method? Wasn't he a doctor at the hospital? Who performed the surgery on me? Who cured me?"
An Ran looked at her father and said clearly, word by word, "It was Chen Jun. Your son-in-law, Chen Jun. He performed the surgery, and he personally prepared the medicine you are taking now."
"Chen...Chen Jun?!" An Qiang seemed stunned by the answer. His mouth opened and closed for a long time, his face filled with extreme confusion and disbelief, as if he had heard the most absurd story. "My son-in-law? He...isn't he a soldier? He performed surgery on me? And prescribed medicine? What...what kind of hospital is this? Am I...am I dreaming, or are you all conspiring to deceive me?"
He looked at his daughter, then at his wife, his expression a complete mess, like an old man about to hang himself. It was impossible to reconcile the image of his young, valiant son-in-law, who seemed quite capable in the army, with the image of a "miracle doctor" who could perform surgery and bring the dead back to life.
This world, as if suddenly, opened a bizarre and wonderful window beyond his comprehension.