Ivan said, "He is thinking about how to ensure that an African child with burns can receive the sa treatnt as Carlotta. This isn’t charity, it’s justice. He believes that dical progress isn’t truly progress if it’s not universal."
Carlotta listened quietly, her pace slowed. They walked to a fountain, where the sound of water murmured, shielding them from the distant hustle and bustle.
"I understand," she finally said, "He wants to save more people, so he doesn’t have ti to celebrate those he has already saved."
"Exactly!" Ivan said, "That’s the lifestyle he has chosen, and we respect it."
Carlotta turned to Ivan, her eyes sparkling with complex emotions: "But I learned Chinese, professor. I practiced for three months, each note of ’Jasmine Flower.’ I originally thought, if he could co, I would say ’Thank you, Professor Yang,’ in Chinese on stage, and then play this piece."
"He said, as long as you hold gratitude and goodwill towards the world, that is the greatest form of thanks to him."
Carlotta nodded, took a deep breath, as if she had made a decision: "I understand! I will face this world well."
The follow-up examination took place at the manor’s dical center, a modern building contrasting starkly with the ancient surroundings, apparently reconstructed urgently for Carlotta, but at this mont, it looked more like an ordinary clinic, quiet, professional, filled with hope.
Ivan had flown in the most advanced testing equipnt in advance, also opening remote video links with Yang Ping’s team mbers, providing real-ti data transmission, though not Yang Ping himself.
"Skin elasticity is at eighty-seven percent of normal skin," Ivan noted, his voice calm and professional, "up two percentage points from last month. Tactile and temperature sensation have fully recovered, pain threshold close to normal, fine motor function in the hands, flexibility recovery at ninety-two percent, strength recovery at eighty-five percent."
"Miss Carlotta: your recovery data is excellent, continue playing the piano, but do not overuse the hand joints. Continue to protect the skin, but don’t let the protection beco a burden, continue living, but rember what you have experienced, not as trauma, but as a starting point. This is Professor Yang’s comnt on this examination." The voice ca from over there, and the translated Italian appeared on the screen.
Carlotta’s eyes turned red, she read those few lines repeatedly, as if she could discern more from them.
"He rembers ," she softly said, "in his own way."
Ivan said, "He rembers every patient."
After the examination, Ivan organized the report in the study of the dical center. Carlotta ca in, holding the music score she used to practice ’Jasmine Flower’ with, densely annotated with Chinese notes.
"Professor," she said, "I would like you to help check whether my Chinese pronunciation is marked correctly. If Professor Yang can’t co, I want to make sure, at the very least, if he hears it on video, he will understand what I am saying."
Ivan took the music score, looking at those Chinese sentences marked with Italian phonetics. His Chinese wasn’t very good, but sufficient for judgnt: "Here, the tone for ’thank you’ is incorrect, it should be the fourth tone, not the first tone. Also here, the pronunciation of ’shou’ in ’Professor’ should be lighter."
He helped her correct it, over and over again.
The banquet after the examination was held in the manor’s main dining room. The long dining table was filled with exquisite Italian cuisine, but the atmosphere was not relaxed. Augustus sat in the main seat, Ivan on the right, Carlotta on the left. They talked about music, art, politics, but couldn’t circumvent the absent person.
"We originally hoped to simultaneously thank both benefactors," Augustus raised his glass, his voice filled with a father’s deep emotion, "but we understand Professor Yang Ping."
He turned to Ivan, "Professor, please convey to Professor Yang Ping, the Balberini family will establish a fund under his na to support the research and application of dical theories. Not as repaynt, but as a way to maintain gratitude and goodwill towards this world."
Ivan nodded, but his expression turned serious: "I will convey the ssage, but I cannot guarantee he will accept it, he seldom accepts honors nad after him."
Carlotta sincerely said, "If he cannot accept it, we can use another na, after all, the na is not important; what’s important is that we do this with heart, Professor Yang will surely be happy."
Augustus raised his glass: "Then, cheers to Professor Yang Ping, to Professor Ivan, to everyone who has made a contribution."
The glasses clinked with a crisp sound.
In the night at La Scala Opera House in Milan, Ivan sat in a box, looking at Carlotta on stage.
This opera house is the sanctuary of Italian music, red velvet seats, golden decorations, crystal chandeliers shimring overhead. But at this mont, all the lights focused on the young woman in the center of the stage.
She wore a simple white gown, no jewelry, no makeup. As her fingers touched the keys, Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat major flowed out, simple and perfect. Each note seed to narrate a story, about disaster, about rebirth, about those who persist in darkness.
Then ca the Revolutionary Etude, a piece requiring both hands, speed, strength, once considered impossible for her to play again. Her fingers danced on the keys, those once deford, contracted fingers now agile, powerful, and filled with life force. The music filled the entire space, intense, angry, then returned to tranquility, like dawn after a storm.
The performance ended, thunderous applause followed. As Carlotta bowed, she looked towards Ivan’s box, slightly bowing. Then, she walked to the center of the stage, saying in Italian: "Next, I would like to play a Chinese folk song, ’Jasmine Flower.’ This piece is dedicated to a doctor not present — Professor Yang Ping. Through his theory, his techniques, his ti, he gave new skin and muscle, new life. He isn’t here, but he is."
Then, she began speaking in Chinese, slow but clear, each word practiced: "Thank you, Professor Yang. I will continue playing the piano, continue living, continue to be the person you wish to be."
The music began, simple and beautiful, a lody like jasmine flowers swaying in the night breeze. The hall was silent, then, with the translator’s explanation, the applause grew even louder.
After the concert, Carlotta waited for Ivan backstage.
"Professor Ivan," she said, "I want to go to China to et Professor Yang Ping; I want to do sothing for his hospital, his team."
"It’s actually unnecessary; Professor Yang is the most pure person I’ve ever t. He doesn’t need gratitude like yours. I’ve said before, as long as you harbor goodwill and gratitude towards the world, he will be happy. If you must go to China, you can use another way, like seeing if there’s anyone in need of help."
"Is... can I?"
"Of course! There are still many people in need of help in this world. Like your father’s proposal to establish a fund, I actually have an idea for your reference. You could establish a fund to aid impoverished burn patients, use your story to encourage those burn patients to bravely face life."
"Thank you for reminding . I feel I can do many things, establish a charity fund concerning burns, a tour thed around burns, inspire those injured to have the courage for life. I can encourage them ntally and support them financially, practicing Professor Yang’s advice of gratitude and goodwill towards this world."
"Yes!"
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