Hey everyone! Thanks so much for being here and taking the time to read!
As you may have noticed, I’m currently in the process of migrating things over to this site and getting everything set up. It’s a bit of a work in progress, so please bear with me while I move things around, fix things up, and slowly get everything where it needs to be!
Another little note: at the moment, this site is being funded entirely out of the owner’s pocket. Keeping everything running does come with some costs, so if you enjoy the site and would like to help support it, donations are always very much appreciated. 💛
Thanks for sticking around while I get everything settled, and I hope you enjoy the site! 🙂
Chapter 48 – Always bright
by Abo DammenTranslator: Abo Dammen
The hardships of the past three years need not be elaborated on. The path from clinical trials to truly achieving results was long, filled with countless failures and struggles, falls and getting back up. So when Chi Zhao received the call from his supervisor, he could hardly believe it. “Is it really ready? To what specific degree can vision be restored? Are there any rejection reactions or other side effects?”
When the call came, Chi Zhao had just stepped off the operating table and was only halfway out of his surgical gown. A string of questions tumbled out instinctively. He had been constantly concerned about this project.
After the project entered the clinical stage, the team conducted various adjustments and finally established a new molecular material as the carrier for the artificial retina electrodes. This material had low rejection rates and could accommodate a large number of electrodes. Some time ago, they had conducted clinical trials on three patients. Chi Zhao had been closely following the project, calling to ask about the situation every few days. So, upon hearing the results now, he was naturally exceptionally excited. Before his supervisor could even answer, he fired off another series of questions, “Is there specific data? Can you explain in more detail? What exactly do you mean by ‘ready’?”
He was still in the operating prep room, surrounded by senior colleagues. His tone was too agitated, and after he spoke, several colleagues looked his way. Chi Zhao quickly made an apologetic gesture, took off his gown, and swiftly walked out of the prep room. He jogged to a quiet spot in the corridor, eagerly asking his supervisor for the latest project updates as he went. And his supervisor’s response ignited his hope even further.
“I’ll email you the specific data. The clinical effects and the probability of patients experiencing rejection or complications are even better than we imagined.” His supervisor’s voice was still clear over the phone, each word striking deep into Chi Zhao’s heart. “Currently, all our volunteers have shown significant improvement in vision after the surgery. I’m calling to tell you that this technology has officially passed clinical trials. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, it can be formally applied in clinical practice soon.”
“Can be formally applied in clinical practice”—Chi Zhao had waited far too long for this sentence. The particular nature of fundus surgery meant Chi Zhao dared not rashly experiment on Fu Nan’an’s eyes; he had to wait for the project to mature. He had been waiting for this day since the initial success in animal experiments. Now that the dream was suddenly becoming reality, he still found it hard to believe.
“Is it really ready?” Chi Zhao confirmed repeatedly with his supervisor. “There won’t be any more surprises?”
“No one dares guarantee one hundred percent. Even God made mistakes when creating humans,” his supervisor said with a laugh. “But based on the current results, this project can indeed bring light to many patients with fundus diseases.”
Health is entrusted, lives are pledged.1. Medicine is inherently a discipline that fights against fate. Humans are inevitably susceptible to disease, and medicine is the hand that pulls you back from the abyss. Chi Zhao had always striven to be a good doctor, and now his loved one was about to regain his sight because of advancements in medicine.
Another half-year passed in a flash. The artificial retina project was approved and launched overseas first. Chi Zhao was among the first to secure a slot for the surgery.
Obtaining such a slot in the early stages of the project’s approval was not easy. There were far too many patients with fundus diseases, yet the artificial retina couldn’t be mass-produced. Materials and technology were both in short supply, so only a few procedures could be performed. But because of Chi Zhao’s involvement, everything became possible. Chi Zhao had been making every possible effort for Fu Nan’an to see, from participating in the project to diligently protecting Fu Nan’an’s eyes. Whatever could be done, Chi Zhao had done his utmost.
Back during his internship, Chi Zhao often helped Fu Nan’an with eye compresses. Over the many years since, he had maintained this habit. While studying abroad, he would video call Fu Nan’an to supervise the eye compresses. After returning to China, no matter how exhausting his surgical days were, he would personally help Fu Nan’an with them. And facts proved Chi Zhao’s actions were very far-sighted. In the early stages of the project, with materials scarce, the assessment of the patient’s fundus condition became the gold standard for surgery selection. Coupled with Chi Zhao’s relentless efforts and his supervisor’s help, Fu Nan’an’s surgery was finally scheduled to take place overseas in half a month.
Chi Zhao hadn’t deliberately hidden or spoken about his relationship with Fu Nan’an, it was his private matter after all, and the hospital valued ability above all. But helping Fu Nan’an apply for the surgery was something he couldn’t conceal. The successful development of the artificial retina was a major event, and as ophthalmologists, everyone was naturally paying attention. As insiders, they knew how difficult it was to obtain a slot at this stage. Therefore, when they learned the news, they were astonished and viewed Chi Zhao with newfound respect.
“Our Xiao Chi is truly amazing. This brings great honor to our ophthalmology hospital.”
“Didn’t I say that Chi Zhao was destined for great things? Look, it’s come true so quickly.”
“Don’t even mention it. When Chi Zhao first arrived, I thought he looked too young and inexperienced. Now I feel like I’m being proven completely wrong.”
Amid the chorus of praise, Chi Zhao accepted their compliments with composure. He truly deserved them. Behind every seemingly effortless success lies countless accumulated efforts.
When he first returned to China, Chi Zhao was still young. In the medical field, where seniority is often highly regarded, he faced considerable skepticism. But within just three years, he had won everyone’s recognition with his absolute competence and his humble, driven attitude. Now, more and more people knew about the young doctor named Chi Zhao in the ophthalmology hospital. Even the notoriously strict senior experts within the department had praised him more than once, saying he was sure to make a difference and would undoubtedly grow into a future pillar of ophthalmology.
Chi Zhao carried a light within him. Even though his origins weren’t privileged, through years of tempering, he had gradually revealed his sharp edge. The visa application, document verification, hospital admission procedures, Chi Zhao handled them all single-handedly. Originally, Fu Nan’an’s parents wanted to come too, but considering their age and the long, inconvenient journey, after weighing all factors, only Chi Zhao accompanied him.
After admission, a nurse asked Chi Zhao, “Did you prepare all the documents yourself? Are you alone?”
“Yes, just me,” Chi Zhao replied. “All the documents are ready. You can review them anytime.”
Chi Zhao was the sole caregiver for Fu Nan’an, yet his attentiveness was in no way inferior to that of patients with multiple family members. Beyond the basic required documents, Chi Zhao had also meticulously compiled a complete record of Fu Nan’an’s medical history and examination reports over the years. This thick dossier cost Chi Zhao a great deal of time, but it provided invaluable information for the surgeons.
“You are truly remarkable,” the young nurse exclaimed sincerely, holding the translated medical records. “If every patient were as thorough as you, we’d hardly be needed.”
Chi Zhao had grown accustomed to such praise. He simply smiled and said, “You flatter me.”
The materials Chi Zhao prepared were indeed comprehensive, adding an extra layer of assurance to Fu Nan’an’s surgical process. Time flew by, and soon it was the day before the surgery. A nurse came as usual to provide reassurance and explain the next day’s surgical procedure.
Chi Zhao knew the surgical procedure inside and out: anesthesia, incision, implantation, suture. He had performed similar surgeries on lab animals years ago. He would also be observing this surgery in its entirety. But the moment the nurse handed him the informed consent forms and the surgical risk disclosure documents, a wave of nervousness suddenly welled up from the depths of his heart.
It was as if all the emotions he had been suppressing suddenly surged forth. Chi Zhao found himself utterly unable to control the thoughts swirling in his mind. He had waited for this surgery for more than five years, and had poured countless hardships into it. But now, as the dream was on the verge of becoming reality, Chi Zhao couldn’t help but overthink.
Would there be complications during the surgery?
Would Fu Nan’an really be able to see after the operation?
Could other side effects occur?
The technology was too new, with too many uncertainties. But even if it were a completely mature procedure, Chi Zhao knew he wouldn’t be fully at ease. Low-probability events can still happen, and Fu Nan’an only had one pair of eyes. They didn’t have any extra chances.
Chi Zhao slowly closed his eyes. He had never so acutely understood the feelings of a patient’s family member before. His lips moved slightly. He wanted to ask something to reassure himself, but no words came out.
He was all too familiar with every step of the process. He knew the probability of those adverse events was very low. But when emotions took over, they were utterly uncontrollable. He cared too much about Fu Nan’an’s eyes.
He felt as if he were being strangled, forced to just watch as the nurse explained the surgical risks and precautions, watch as Fu Nan’an signed the consent form, watch as the nurse took the forms and left the room, and watch the door open and close. With a final click of the lock, the surroundings fell into silence. Chi Zhao sat silently by Fu Nan’an’s bedside, holding his hand, and called out, “Professor.”
“What’s wrong?” Fu Nan’an’s voice was deep and steady. After all these years, his palm was still solid and strong. Chi Zhao sat a little lower, resting his head on Fu Nan’an’s shoulder. He didn’t know what to say, so he could only murmur, “It’s nothing, Professor. I just wanted to say your name.”
“Alright, say it,” Fu Nan’an said. “I’m right here.”
Since Chi Zhao didn’t elaborate, Fu Nan’an didn’t press further. The two of them simply leaned on each other quietly. Outside, the sky had darkened unnoticed. Once the sun hid behind the trees, the sky curtain turned dusky. Fu Nan’an’s hospital room wasn’t on a high floor; outside the window, you could see lush, leafy trees. But after dark, the branches turned black too, a dense, dark mass blocking the view, obscuring the sun’s faint remaining glow.
It was a very oppressive mood. When the sky had completely darkened, Chi Zhao called out “Professor” again. By now, they had shifted from sitting to lying down. They lay side-by-side on the narrow hospital bed. Fu Nan’an held Chi Zhao’s shoulder, lowering his head to kiss his forehead, and repeated his earlier words. “Mhm, your Professor is here.”
Fu Nan’an’s voice was gentle. He slowly kissed Chi Zhao’s skin. Since Chi Zhao wasn’t speaking about it, he truly didn’t ask a single question. He didn’t seem worried about the next day’s surgery at all. But Chi Zhao couldn’t manage that. Chi Zhao was too afraid. The more he cared, the more frightened he became. He simply couldn’t control his emotions.
“Professor, I’m a little scared,” Chi Zhao finally admitted, clutching Fu Nan’an’s clothes, his voice soft.
Fu Nan’an had already changed into the patient gown. The loose, baggy clothing accentuated Chi Zhao’s feeling of unease. Only in moments like this did Chi Zhao feel his own insignificance. Even though so many people praised him and he had achieved so much, he still felt small. In the face of the unknown, humans are always insignificant. No one is exempt.
Chi Zhao was afraid of too many things. He was afraid of surgical complications, afraid of rejection reactions, afraid of side effects, and afraid that even after undergoing the surgery, Fu Nan’an still wouldn’t be able to see. Once the floodgates of emotion opened, it was hard to stop. He burrowed into Fu Nan’an’s embrace and asked, his voice muffled, “Professor, aren’t you afraid?”
Fu Nan’an’s hand rested on his shoulder. “What is there to be afraid of?” he asked gently.
“Aren’t you afraid the surgery might fail? Aren’t you afraid you still won’t be able to see after the operation?” Chi Zhao felt a sense of urgency. Anxiety filled his mind, making it impossible to think calmly. He looked up frantically, kissing Fu Nan’an’s eyes, seeking some reassurance. Fu Nan’an lowered his head and met him in a quiet, steady kiss.
“There’s no need to be afraid of any of that,” Fu Nan’an said when the kiss ended, giving Chi Zhao’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. His palm was warm and firm.
He knew what Chi Zhao was worried about, but he truly wasn’t concerned himself. He was not nervous, nor was he afraid. “I believe in your ability, and I believe in your entire project team. This is a project you personally participated in. It has already received so much recognition. I believe it can bring me light.”
“But what if it fails? What if you never get another chance to see?” Chi Zhao’s tone was stubborn now. He knew the probability was small, he knew he was getting stuck in a loop of negative thinking, but he just couldn’t break free, until—
Fu Nan’an reached up, his hand gently finding Chi Zhao’s cheek, and placed a soft, reverent kiss on his eyelid.
“It won’t fail. You have already succeeded. You succeeded a long time ago,” Fu Nan’an said, his kisses gentle, his tone gentle yet carrying strength. “It doesn’t matter whether the surgery succeeds or fails, I’ve adapted to being blind. As long as I have you, my world has always been bright.”
Translator’s Feed:
Oh to be loved so devotedly like this. I love Xiao Chi so much :’))
0 Comments