signingbooks Chapter 1406 You're Overthinking It
Chapter 1406 You're Overthinking It
Chapter 1406 You're Overthinking It
The day after Gao Yuan returned from New York, he received a WeChat message.
"Director Gao, I heard you're back from the United States. When are you free? I'd like to treat you to a meal."
The person who sent the message was named Duan Xiaoming, also known as Bald Duan. His profile picture was a selfie of himself with a bald head, wearing a white lab coat, with a huge HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) device in the background.
Duan Xiaoming was the director of the HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) department at Sanbo Hospital back then. HIFU is a technique that uses ultrasound to ablate tumors without surgery or punctures; it's like using an invisible beam of light to "burn" away tumors from the outside. It was a novelty at the time, and the entire hospital only had one machine, so they only performed a handful of procedures a year. The HIFU department was the most detached department at Sanbo Hospital; during that period, Director Duan was completely absorbed in stock trading.
Later, taking advantage of the opportunity to treat Sisi's illness, he learned some things from Professor Yang. After Xiaoming went to Pengcheng, Gao Yuan had less contact with him.
They chatted occasionally on WeChat; Duan Xiaoming would send photos of HIFU treatments, and Gao Yuan would reply with a "thumbs up" emoji. They exchanged small red envelopes during holidays, just for good luck. Gao Yuan knew he was doing well, but he didn't know just how well.
One day, Gao Yuan was flipping through a financial magazine on a plane when he came across a report titled "Duan Xiaoming: Leveraging a Hundred Billion Yuan Market with a Single Beam of Light." The accompanying photo was of Duan Xiaoming, dressed in a sharp suit and tie, standing in front of a HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) device. His bald head reflected the light from the flash, but this time it wasn't a surgical light; it was a studio light. Duan Xiaoming in the photo looked different from how he looked a few years ago—not because he had aged, but because he exuded a confident and triumphant air.
After reading the report, Gao Yuan learned what Duan Xiaoming had been doing all these years.
After going to that private hospital in Shenzhen, he spent six months revitalizing the idle HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) equipment. Instead of waiting for patients, he proactively reached out to gynecologists, "intercepting" patients who needed uterine fibroid surgery but didn't want a hysterectomy. He told them: no surgery, no hospitalization, no impact on fertility, and they could go home the same day. At first, no one believed him. But sincerity moves mountains. Starting with one patient every one or two weeks, he gradually increased the waiting list to several months.
During Duan Xiaoming's first year at that hospital in Pengcheng, the HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) department went from being the worst-performing department in the entire hospital to the best-performing one. The owner of a private hospital approached him, offering him shares to stay. Duan Xiaoming said, "I don't want the shares. I want this machine. Give me the machine."
The boss thought he was joking, but Duan Xiaoming wasn't.
The owner of that private clinic was a shrewd man. He handed over the HIFU knife to Duan Xiaoming, along with some money, as an investment, letting Duan Xiaoming handle it as he pleased; he wouldn't interfere. Duan Xiaoming rented a 200-square-meter space in Shenzhen, registered a medical management company, and started his business. He didn't call it a "clinic" or a "hospital"; he called it a "treatment center." He said, "I'm not running a hospital; I'm a technician. My technician is the HIFU knife, and I only do this one thing, and I do it to the best of my ability."
His judgment was correct; uterine fibroids are the most common benign tumors in women, with an incidence rate as high as 20% to 30% in women of reproductive age. Traditional treatment involves surgical removal, either the fibroids or the uterus. The cost of a uterus removal is permanent infertility; the cost of fibroid removal is abdominal scarring, postoperative adhesions, and a high recurrence rate. HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) is non-invasive, bloodless, scarless, does not affect fertility, and allows patients to go home the same day. In the eyes of these women, this is not treatment, but magic.
Other hospitals also perform HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) treatment for uterine fibroids, but they have more complications and cannot achieve the same level of safety, effectiveness, and fewer complications as Duan Xiaoming.
Duan Xiaoming's treatment center became a hit. It broke even in the first year, turned a profit in the second, opened a second center in the provincial capital of Nanjing in the third year, a third in Shanghai, and a fourth in Beijing. These four centers, located in four first-tier cities, were each equipped with a state-of-the-art HIFU (High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound) device and had a medical team personally trained by Duan Xiaoming. He developed a standardized treatment process, from pre-operative ultrasound localization to intra-operative energy control and post-operative efficacy evaluation, with clear operational procedures and quality standards for each step. This process wasn't copied from a textbook; he learned it himself from Professor Yang.
After reading the report, Gao Yuan sent a message to Duan Xiaoming: "President Duan, I saw your report, awesome!"
Duan Xiaoming replied instantly: "Director Gao, don't call me President Duan, I'm still Duan the Bald. When are you coming to Pengcheng? I'll treat you to dinner, brother, let's have a good chat."
Gao Yuan smiled and replied, "Okay."
After Gao Yuan returned from New York, Duan Xiaoming's WeChat message remained in his message list. He didn't reply, not because he forgot, but because he hadn't figured out how to respond. Duan Xiaoming was no longer the bald man he once was. He was the founder of a chain of medical groups preparing for an IPO, worth over 100 million yuan, with a chauffeur and a seat on the dais at meetings. Gao Yuan didn't want him to feel like he was "climbing the social ladder" or "riding on his coattails." It wasn't because Gao Yuan was aloof, but because he felt that friendships didn't need to be like that. If someone has money, does that make you a friend?
But Duan Xiaoming clearly didn't think that way.
The day after Gao Yuan didn't reply to his message, Duan Xiaoming called.
"Director Gao, did you block me?" The voice on the other end of the phone was still the same, with a slight southern accent in Mandarin, speaking at a moderate pace.
"No! I was busy and didn't have time to reply," Gao Yuan said.
"What are you so busy with? So busy that you don't even reply to your brothers' messages?" Duan Xiaoming said with a smile. "I heard you made a big splash in New York. The experts at HSS were all stunned. Robert even became your assistant. Director Gao, you are now an internationally renowned expert."
"Don't be ridiculous! Robert is my junior apprentice."
“I know, you’re Professor Yang’s student. I’m also Professor Yang’s student. The three of us are fellow students. It’s just that you and Robert are the formal students, and I’m an auditor.”
Duan Xiaoming is still the same Duan Xiaoming; his way of speaking hasn't changed, nor has his self-deprecating humor. What has changed is the confidence in his voice—not the kind of boastful confidence, but a quiet certainty of "I know my worth." Gao Yuan is very familiar with this confidence because he possesses it himself. It's not something money gives him; it's something his skills provide. When a surgeon knows he can do what others cannot on the operating table, he gains confidence.
“To be honest,” Duan Xiaoming said, “I have a meeting in the provincial capital of Nandu this Friday. If it’s convenient for you, let’s have dinner together tonight. I’ll pick you up.”
"No need to pick me up, I'll go myself."
"Okay! I'll send you the address. See you on Friday."
See you on Friday.
Gao Yuan hung up the phone and looked at the address on his phone screen: the top floor of an office building in Nandu New City, a restaurant with a name that sounded expensive. He smiled; Duan Guangtou was treating, so sea cucumber and abalone were all you could order.
On Friday evening, Gao Yuan drove to Nandu New City.
The evening in Nandu, the provincial capital, was pleasant. A breeze blew from the river, carrying a slight fishy smell. He stood at the foot of the office building and looked up. The building was very tall, its glass curtain wall reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun, making the whole building look like a golden pillar inserted into the velvet-like skyline. The lights in the rooftop restaurant were already on, the warm yellow light shining through the glass curtain wall like a lamp suspended in mid-air.
The elevator went straight to the top floor. When the doors opened, a hostess in a cheongsam greeted him with a smile and asked if he was "Mr. Duan's" guest. Gao Yuan nodded. She led him through the lobby to a private room by the window.
The door to the private room opened, and Duan Xiaoming stood up.
He wore a dark blue shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His bald head was still the same, reflecting the light under the restaurant lights, exactly the same as before. But his physique was more robust than it used to be, not fat, but with that relaxed air of "no longer being weighed down by life."
“Director Gao!” Duan Xiaoming extended his hand. “President Duan!” Gao Yuan grasped his hand.
"Call me 'General Manager Duan' or I'll get angry." Duan Xiaoming gripped his hand tightly, then released it, pointed to the chair opposite him, and said, "Sit down! Order whatever you want."
Gao Yuan sat down, picked up the menu, flipped through two pages, and closed it.
“You order!” he said.
Duan Xiaoming picked up the menu, opened it, and said to the waiter, "Braised pork, roast goose, boiled shrimp, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, seaweed and egg soup, rice, and an apple." He paused, then added, "The braised pork should be a bit fatty; he likes fatty pork."
The waitress was taken aback; she probably hadn't seen such a large order in a place like this before. But she said nothing, made a note of it, and turned to leave.
Only two people remained in the private room.
The river outside the window flowed through the night, the lights on both banks reflected on the water like countless golden threads swaying in the ripples. In the distance, a slender tower glowed with purple light, like a giant, luminous hourglass, recording the city's time.
Duan Xiaoming picked up his teacup, took a sip, and put it down.
The dishes arrived: braised pork belly, fatty and translucent, lying trembling on the plate like a piece of amber; and roast goose covered with a layer of glistening golden oil...
Gao Yuan picked up a piece of braised pork, put it in his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and nodded.
"It still tastes the same," he said.
"Of course!" Duan Xiaoming said, "I specifically asked the kitchen to make it according to the Sanbo canteen's method. The sugar needs to be caramelized, the pork belly needs to be blanched to remove the fishy smell, and star anise, cinnamon, and bay leaves need to be added when stewing. It needs to be simmered over low heat for two hours. This is the recipe from Old Li of the Sanbo canteen back then. I specifically asked him about it."
Gao Yuan picked up another piece and chewed slowly. The flavor of the braised pork melted in his mouth, rich but not greasy, with a perfect balance of sweet and salty, like holding a piece of the past in his mouth. He remembered the greasy dining table in the Sanbo canteen, the lunches in white plastic lunchboxes bound with rubber bands, lunches that sat in the research institute's training room for an hour before being eaten, and Duan Xiaoming's words every time he handed him the lunchbox: "Director Gao, eat it while it's hot, it won't taste good when it's cold."
“You know what?” Duan Xiaoming said while peeling shrimp, “The uterine fibroid treatment I’m doing now uses the same method that Professor Yang taught me back then.”
Gao Yuan nodded: "Professor Yang would be very happy if he knew how well you did."
Duan Xiaoming shook his head, put the peeled shrimp in his mouth, chewed it, swallowed it, and then said something that surprised Gao Yuan.
"I don't know if I've tarnished his reputation."
"why?"
“Because I’m doing it for the money,” Duan Xiaoming said calmly, without remorse or explanation, simply stating a fact. “Professor Yang performs surgery for his patients, while I perform HIFU entirely for the money. Of course, I have helped patients, but my purpose is solely for the money, and I’m using that marketing tactic.”
Gao Yuan remained silent for a while.
"But it doesn't deceive patients; it's genuinely safe and effective."
Duan Xiaoming laughed and said, "Yes, even so, I still feel that I am not worthy of being Professor Yang's student. So I have never mentioned Sanbo or Professor Yang in my public statements. I don't want to tarnish Professor Yang's reputation. Without the methods that Professor Yang taught me back then, I wouldn't have achieved what I have today."
“He knows everything,” Gao Yuan said. “He knows you go to private hospitals, he knows you run a company, he knows you make money, but he has never said a bad word about you. Do you know why? Actually, you don’t understand Professor Yang. Professor Yang never opposes doctors making money, but it must be done honestly and without violating one’s conscience.”
Duan Xiaoming looked at him without saying a word.
“So he will definitely think you did nothing wrong,” Gao Yuan said. “What you did and what he did are essentially the same. You did what you do best to the extreme and then used it to help more people. As long as it’s not money obtained through dishonest means, money is not a problem.”
Duan Xiaoming lowered his head, looking at the plate of peeled shrimp in front of him. His hand froze in mid-air, his fingers trembling slightly. After a long while, he looked up.
"Director Gao," his voice choked with emotion, "thank you for telling me all this."
Gao Yuan didn't speak. He picked up his teacup and clinked it against Duan Xiaoming's again.
After finishing their meal, the two stood at the entrance of the office building. The night wind in Nandu New City was strong, blowing from the river and carrying the chill of late autumn. Duan Xiaoming put on his coat, zipped it up, and put his hands in his pockets.
“Director Gao, I’m going to Beijing next week,” he said. “My fourth center is opening, and I’d like to invite the Sanbo brothers to celebrate, but it’s not easy to get them to come. I’m afraid it might seem like I’m trying to make money.”
"Don't say that. Making money is an honorable thing. You've made so much money, how come your thinking is still so outdated?" Director Gao mocked him.
"I feel much more at ease now that you say that. I've always been worried that if I use Professor Yang's techniques to make money everywhere, it might upset him." Duan Xiaoming felt much more relaxed.
Gao Yuan laughed and said, "Haha, Professor Yang has a lot of knowledge. Who isn't making progress using his knowledge these days? For example, me, for example, Robert. You're just being presumptuous. This kind of thinking is completely unnecessary."