The secretary was bustling in and out, handing over documents, pouring water, answering phones, busy without a moment to breathe. As soon as the landline was put down, the cell phone rang again; just after answering the cell phone, the landline rang once more. Dean Xia was busily engaged, yet his face was full of radiance.

Finally finding a brief moment of respite, Dean Xia leaned against his chair, exhaling deeply. He gazed at the ceiling and suddenly started to laugh. So many joyful events lately, one after another, just like catching a wave.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Old Han? Are you free tonight? Let’s go out for a drink and celebrate."

The next morning, a red banner was hung at the entrance of Sanbo Hospital, proudly displaying golden letters: "Warmly congratulating our hospital’s Professor Yang Ping for being elected as a member of the Chinese Academy of Sciences and China Academy of Engineering!"

The outpatient hall was filled with flower bouquets, some sent by the hospital, some by different departments, others by sibling units, and even anonymous ones from patients. Red, yellow, pink, purple, densely packed with a fragrant aroma. Passersby couldn’t help but take a second look, and some took out their phones to snap photos. The cleaning aunty complained that the bouquets were moved three times today but still blocked the way.

The celebration was held in the hospital’s multi-function hall.

It wasn’t even eight in the morning, yet the hall was packed with people. There were hospital leaders, department directors, researchers from the institute, young doctors and nurses, and even many familiar faces, those retired old experts, who came leaning on their walking sticks.

Originally, Yang Ping didn’t want this formal event, but the superior leaders specifically instructed Dean Xia to celebrate well, as it’s an honor for the entire medical system. With everyone so enthusiastic, Yang Ping found it hard to refuse.

Director Han sat in the first row, wearing the deep gray Zhongshan suit he usually couldn’t bear to wear, his hair neatly combed, and an old party badge pinned to his chest. Next to him was Professor Zhang Zongshun, an elderly man in his 80s who was particularly spirited today, sitting upright and occasionally chatting with those beside him, with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

Director Bai sat in the corner with Fatty and Little Fatty. The trio occupied an entire row of seats. Fatty whispered, "Director, why aren’t you sitting in the front today?" Director Bai glared at him: "Too crowded in the front, here is spacious and you can see clearly." Little Fatty chuckled quietly beside him.

Xu Zhiliang stood at the door, chatting with several neurosurgery colleagues. He still stuttered a bit, but today he spoke quite a lot, excitedly with his face flushed, occasionally tiptoeing to look at the stage.

Li Zehui wore a crisp suit, standing with several cardiac surgery doctors. He usually avoided such events, always finding excuses, but today he came early and even specially wore a tie.

Dr. Jin sat in the middle with the spinal surgery team, each sitting upright, as if waiting for an important moment. Someone whispered about Yang Ping’s past in spinal surgery.

Song Zimo was over at the emergency department, surrounded by a group of young doctors asking various questions. "Director Song, what was Professor Yang like in the emergency department back then?" "Director Song, how long did you learn from Professor Yang?" Song Zimo replied with a smile, but he was wondering: Why are these people so gossipy today?

Robert couldn’t attend but sent a video. In the video, he stood in front of the North America clinic’s pennant wall, speaking in accented Chinese: "Teacher, I am your only direct disciple in North America! Today you became a double academician; I am prouder than anyone!" The video was displayed on the big screen, causing a burst of laughter in the hall.

August also sent a message, read by the host: "Professor Yang is my role model, a beacon in the medical community..."

At nine o’clock sharp, Dean Xia took the stage.

"Colleagues and friends, today is a great day!" his voice was loud, carrying uncontrollable excitement, "Our Sanbo Hospital’s Professor Yang Ping has been elected as a member of the Chinese Academy of Sciences and China Academy of Engineering at the same time! This is rare in the history of science in our country!"

Enthusiastic applause erupted from the audience.

Dean Xia paused, and when the applause subsided, continued, "A double academician, what does it mean? It means achieving the highest level in both fundamental research and engineering applications! Such experts are rare nationwide! And we, Sanbo, have one!"

The applause grew even louder, mixed with cheers.

"Next, let’s welcome Professor Yang Ping to speak!"

Thunderous applause followed, and some stood up clapping.

Yang Ping rose from his seat and walked onto the stage. He was wearing a deep blue shirt today, no tie, looking very ordinary, even somewhat casual. But everyone was watching him, their gazes full of respect and pride.

He stood on stage, looking at those familiar faces below, Director Han, Professor Zhang, Director Bai, Xu Zhiliang, Li Zehui, Dr. Jin, Song Zimo, and so many young doctors and nurses whose names he couldn’t recall.

He was silent for a few seconds, then spoke.

"Thank you all."

He paused and continued, "This honor is not given to me alone, but to Sanbo, to all who have worked and fought here."

He looked at Director Han: "My teacher, Director Han, he brought me into this field and taught me how to perform surgery, how to conduct myself. Back then, I knew nothing, and he taught me hand-in-hand."

Director Han blinked forcefully in the audience, his throat moved.

He looked at Professor Zhang Zongshun: "Professor Zhang, back then you gave me the chance to go ahead. Without your trust, I wouldn’t be who I am today."

Professor Zhang Zongshun nodded, his eyes slightly red, his lips moved wanting to say something but didn’t.

He looked at his colleagues below: "And you all, years of fighting together, staying up late, performing surgeries, discussing cases. Every patient, every surgery, every paper was completed together. This honor belongs to each of you."

The audience was silent.

Yang Ping paused, then said, "So, this honor is all yours, thank you."

He bowed deeply.

Applause rang out again, louder and more fervent, like it would lift the roof.

Someone started calling: "Professor Yang! Professor Yang!"

More and more people joined in, the voice growing louder, converging into a flood.

Yang Ping stood on stage, looking at the excited faces below, suddenly feeling that this kind of celebration was actually nice, at least it could offer young people some encouragement, letting them know that as long as they work hard, recognition day will come.

After the celebration, the crowd dispersed, but the excitement didn’t fade.

At the hospital entrance, more and more bouquets piled up, some brought new ones, others watched and took photos. Security had to pull out a path, so people wouldn’t block the door. A young man pushing a cart arrived with another cart full of bouquets, asking the security where to place them.

In the canteen, today’s meals were much more plentiful than usual, allegedly instructed by the dean to add dishes. Director Bai sat with Fatty and Little Fatty eating three large plates full in a corner, buried in the feast. Fatty mumbled while eating: "Director, this meal feels like the New Year." Director Bai nodded, mouth full of braised pork: "New Year isn’t as lively as today."

Throughout the corridors, discussions were everywhere.

In the wards, patients were also discussing.

An old man asked a nurse: "Can the academician from your hospital look at my illness?" The nurse chuckled: "Sir, Professor Yang only looks at difficult cases, but rest assured, our hospital’s doctors are excellent." The old man nodded: "That’s fine, that’s fine. Just asking, sharing an academician’s hospital, my illness is half cured."

In the afternoon, a few reporters arrived.

Carrying cameras and microphones, they interviewed throughout the hospital. First, they interviewed Dean Xia, then several department directors, and finally found Yang Ping, who was in the institute laboratory, examining images through a microscope.

The reporter asked cautiously: "Professor Yang, do you have anything you wish to say to young people?"

Yang Ping looked up, considered, and said: "Work hard, don’t overthink."

The reporter paused: "Just... just that?"

Yang Ping nodded: "Just that."

The reporter persisted: "Do you have any secret to success?"

Yang Ping replied: "Research has no secret. If there’s a secret, it’s not true research."

Reporter: "..."

The nearby students nearly burst into laughter.

The reporter further asked: "Do you have any plans for the future?"

Yang Ping glanced at him: "Continue working."

The reporter was speechless.

In the evening, the red lanterns at the Sanbo Hospital entrance were lit.

It was specially arranged by Dean Xia for the festivity. The red lanterns swayed in the night, lit up the words "Sanbo Hospital," looking especially beautiful, attracting passersby to take a closer look, with some stopping to take photos.

That "Uncle Er’s Grilled Fish" next to the hospital, was booked tonight. The booking was made by Dean Xia, inviting Yang Ping and several old colleagues.