"What did you say? Repeat it."
The coffee cup in Yang Ping’s hand stopped midway, wondering if he misheard.
On the other end of the phone, Manstein’s voice carried a peculiar calmness: "I said, the monkey can now walk six steps, not assisted standing, not trembling to hold for two seconds, but real coordinated four-leg walking over six steps."
"..."
"Professor? Are you listening?"
"I’m calculating!" Yang Ping put down the coffee cup, "What does six steps signify? Is there a video?"
"The video has been sent to your email. Gait analysis shows the hind limbs’ weight-bearing ratio has reached 62% of normal levels. There’s still a deviation in joint flexion angles, but the movent pattern is correct—it’s not compensatory, not dragging, but truly nerve-driven walking movents."
Yang Ping had already opened his laptop, and during the few seconds the video was buffering, he found himself holding his breath.
The screen lit up.
A Heng River Monkey stood at the edge of the lab bench, its forelimbs lightly holding onto the rail. Its hind legs, unlike before, didn’t drag powerlessly behind but firmly stepped on the ground, then, it moved.
The left hind leg lifted, stepped forward, foot on the ground, bearing weight. The right hind leg followed, the sa action. One step, two steps, three steps, on the fourth step, the body wobbled a bit, but it adjusted its center of gravity and continued walking. Fifth step, sixth step, then it stopped and looked back at the cara before collapsing.
Yang Ping would never forget that look, not one of pain, not of fear, but a kind of near-confused clarity, as if saying: Oh, so I can still do this.
"Professor, we’ve prematurely reached the 50% repair rate target. More accurately, 62% of the experintal group animals showed asurable walking function, with three able to independently walk more than six steps, which has already surpassed our original 50% benchmark."
Manstein’s voice finally showed so fluctuation.
"I’m already packing my luggage," Manstein said, "Professor, I want to report to you in person, to share the joy face-to-face. The phone can’t convey my current feelings—you gave theory, and I owe you a complete explanation. I want you to see the data with your own eyes, turn the experint records yourself, hear talk about every detail."
A montary silence on the other end of the call.
"Also," Manstein’s voice lowered a bit, "I want to thank you in person, saying it on the phone is not enough."
Yang Ping held the phone, silent for a while.
"Co!" he finally said, "Bring all the materials, I’ll co to pick you up."
When Manstein’s plane landed, Nandu was drizzling.
Yang Ping personally went to fetch him, almost failing to recognize this German old man coming out from the arrivals. Manstein had lost at least ten pounds; his cheekbones protruded completely, hair almost entirely white but eyes still energetic.
"Didn’t you sleep?" Yang Ping asked.
"I did!" Manstein tossed his suitcase to Tang Shun, "Slept four hours on the plane."
"Four hours are not enough."
"Enough, professor! Right now, I don’t need sleep; I need coffee."
Yang Ping looked at him, didn’t speak. Manstein’s shirt was wrinkled, collar with one button undone, holding a bulging docunt bag tightly like fearing it would be snatched.
Inside that docunt bag were the main experintal data, evidence of a paralyzed monkey standing up again, proof of seeing an exit after years in a dead end.
"Let’s eat first," Yang Ping said.
"Professor—"
"You flew ten hours from Germany, and the first thing upon landing isn’t a al but reporting?" Yang Ping glanced at him.
Manstein paused for a mont, then smiled: "Alright! Eat first, then back to the hotel to sleep, eight o’clock tomorrow morning, Institute eting room, you must give two hours."
"Okay."
Not just two hours, Yang Ping had more ti.
At seven forty-five the next morning, Manstein arrived at the Institute.
Yang Ping went downstairs to et him.
"What ti did you get up?" Yang Ping asked.
Manstein said: "Five-thirty, couldn’t sleep, went over the PPT once more."
"Which round?"
Manstein thought for a mont: "Counting from when I left Germany, probably the seventeenth round."
Yang Ping smiled, said no more, and led him upstairs.
The eting room was already full of people, all mbers of Yang Ping’s project group, plus so collaborators from other Institutes, more than fifty people in total. As Manstein entered, everyone was conversing softly; seeing him co in, the voices gradually quieted down, eventually becoming completely silent.
Manstein stood in front of the podium, took a deep breath.
His Chinese was very accurate, each word clear: "Ladies and gentlen, I’ve co today to report a research advance to Professor Yang Ping. The theoretical basis of this research is Professor Yang’s three-dinsional-guided gene theory. The experintal design and execution were completed by my laboratory in Germany. What I bring today is not a paper, not a press release, but original data."
He turned the folder, the first page was a sheet.
"This is the experintal design, twelve Heng River Monkeys, complete spinal cord injury, T9 segnt. Six for control group, six for experintal group. The experintal group underwent Original Cell Repair treatnt based on three-dinsional-guided gene theory within a forty-eight-hour post-injury window, regulating expression of specific genes."
He turned to the second page.
"This is the monitored continuous electrophysiological data."
In the eting room, only the sound of page turning and Manstein’s slightly hoarse narration remained. He went through the data item by item, not skipping an anomaly, not embellishing any imperfect result. One experintal group monkey showed no functional improvent; he dedicated a whole page of PPT analyzing potential reasons: gene editing off-target, excessive injury severity, individual differences.
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