Surgery Godfather Chapter 1762: 1254: Homesickness (Part 2)

Chapter 1762: Chapter 1254: Hosickness (Part 2)

Now, the “Breaking Wall” project was like a thunderclap, exploding in his seemingly stable and successful world. He saw his forr classmates, and even juniors several years his junior, all abandoning lucrative overseas positions and resolutely returning to China, to imrse themselves in that unknown yet aningful battle. A long-lost sensation, known as “passion,” stirred faintly in his chest.

Go back?

This thought erged clearly for the first ti, accompanied by imnse fear and practical considerations. Everything he had in the United States—his top academic position, ample research funding, a world-class team, a comfortable family life, the education his children received… these were all things he had fought for over a decade to obtain, and abandoning them required imnse courage. Besides, he knew well that his past “betrayal” had long chilled the hearts of his ntors and many colleagues in China, so how would he find his place if he returned?

The intense inner struggle kept him awake at night. Several tis, he picked up the phone and scrolled to Mr. Liang’s number, his finger hovering over the dial button, but he never had the courage to press it. Guilt, self-reproach, and an indescribable sense of apprehension towards nearing ho eventually made him dejectedly put down the phone.

“Teacher…I…” he mumbled to the air, finally releasing a long sigh. He knew that so paths, once missed, are difficult to return to. He couldn’t drop everything and forge ahead like those young students.

Just then, his secretary knocked softly and entered, placing a folder on his desk: “Professor Zhang, this is the final list and evaluation report for this year’s doctoral admissions that you need to finalize and sign.”

Zhang Chunquan collected himself, sat back in his office chair, and opened the folder. Inside were more than ten extrely outstanding application materials from top students around the world, including many top achievers from Massachusetts, Stanford, and Cambridge.

His gaze slowly swept over those unfamiliar nas and photos. When he saw a few clearly Chinese-nad applicants, even so directly from China’s top universities, his fingers paused. These young faces, with eyes full of longing for science and dreams for the future, reminded him a lot of his past self.

A complex emotion welled up in his heart. While he couldn’t personally return to make ands, perhaps he could do sothing else.

He picked up the pen, and without much hesitation, solemnly marked ticks next to those Chinese students’ nas on the final admission list. His choice was not entirely based on academic scores, although their scores were already exceptionally high, but carried an indescribable sense of guilt.

“All right.” He handed the signed folder to his secretary, his tone calm, but inside he felt as if a silent ceremony had been completed.

He knew it was insignificant, perhaps even unnoticed.

But perhaps it was the only silent and weighty compensation he could make at this mont, for his own heart and that distant holand.

…

Southeast Asia, Malaysia.

In the Southern Ocean afternoon, sunlight filtered through palm leaves, casting dappled shadows in the garden of the Guo Family’s mansion. This white manor, built during the colonial era, was now shrouded in an unusual solemnity. Nearly eighty-year-old Guo Jingyao stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the study, playing with a Qianlong Tongbao coin that had long been smoothed—this was the only keepsake his great-grandfather had when he left his holand.

“Are they all here?” His voice was old yet still steady.

“Father, everyone is already in the eting Room,” his eldest son Guo Xiwen responded softly, his eyes involuntarily falling on the open docunt on his father’s desk—the “Breaking Wall Project White Paper.”

Guo Jingyao slowly turned around, the evening glow coating him in a layer of gold. He walked past the bookshelf, gently running his fingers over a set of yellowed “Zhongshan Collection,” which his grandfather had specially purchased from Shanghai when founding a Chinese school in Singapore in 1925.

In the eting room, more than twenty mbers from three generations of the Guo Family sat formally and seriously. In the center of the sandalwood long table, a pot of Fujian daffodils quietly blood.

“I believe you all know by now that I went to Nandu Provincial City a few days ago.” Guo Jingyao’s voice echoed in the silent room, each word carrying imnse weight. “I brought back this project docunt.” He raised the docunt in his hand, his fingertips slightly trembling.

His gaze swept over each face present: the steady and composed eldest son Xiwen, the ambitious second son Xiuwu, and the grandchildren educated in Europe and Arica. Among them, so were puzzled, so had expectations, and others were indifferent.

“I know so of you may see this as just another charitable donation,” Guo Jingyao’s voice suddenly rose, “but I tell you, this is the destiny of the Guo Family, a promise flowing in our blood.”

The old man’s eyes gradually drifted away, as if crossing the barriers of ti and space.

“In the 23rd year of Guangxu, our great-grandfather boarded a cargo ship to Penang at Xian Port with a small bundle. Before leaving, he knelt under the banyan tree at the village entrance, filled an incense bag with a handful of yellow soil, and said, ‘If we find warmth and sustenance in the Southern Ocean, we shall return to our holand.'” Guo Jingyao’s voice trembled, “But this promise has waited for generations.”

Guo Jingyao slowly walked to the wall, uncovering a silk-covered map. It was a hand-drawn map of the routes taken by overseas Chinese in the Southern Ocean to support the war effort, densely marked with donation channels and material relay stations.