Chapter 2157: Chapter 1421: Rebuilding Is Harder Than Repairing_2
Chen Jianguo couldn’t understand German, but from Clara’s suddenly tense brow and the few seconds of silence from Professor Manstein, he sensed some heavy information. It was the gravity a doctor exhibits when faced with cruel facts—an assertion, not a surprise.
"Professor Mainshtan," Chen Jianguo took the initiative to speak, "is it very serious? Just tell me straight, I can handle it."
Manstein turned around, meeting Chen Jianguo’s eyes, his gaze unwavering, unflinching, and sincere.
"Serious! There’s no doubt about it." His German accent made the word "serious" sound particularly weighty, "but serious doesn’t mean incurable. In cases of old, complete damage, our strategy has never been to repair the necrotic, scar-devoured old nerves; that’s a dead end. Our approach is reconstruction, allowing new nerve fibers to grow through and establish new signal pathways. The original axons may be severed, but that’s not crucial—what matters is that the downstream muscles and organs are anatomically intact, they’ve just been ’disconnected’. As long as new signals can reach them, they can resume function. This is a completely different engineering approach."
Chen Jianguo looked into Manstein’s eyes. In those gray-blue pupils, he saw the kind of gaze a doctor only has when telling the truth—a nearly cold honesty matched by professional confidence.
"Let’s do it," Chen Jianguo said, his voice without a hint of hesitation, "whatever you need me to do, just tell me."
Sister Li stood beside him, one hand constantly on Chen Jianguo’s shoulder. From entering the Institute until now, that hand had hardly left him.
In addition to the MRI and electrophysiological examinations, a systematic cardiopulmonary function assessment was arranged that day.
Hans was responsible for this part. He was a cheerful Austrian, with blonde hair and blue eyes, speaking in Vienna’s distinctive lively tone. He had Chen Jianguo undergo a series of standardized lung function tests, including forced vital capacity, forced expiratory volume in one second, maximum ventilation, and a special assessment of diaphragm function. This was followed by a transthoracic echocardiogram to assess cardiac chamber structure and ejection fraction.
When the results came out, Hans blew a short whistle, turning to lift the report towards Manstein: "Manstein, guess what? This guy’s cardiopulmonary function is better than that of a normal person his age. Both FVC and FEV1 are over 110% of the predicted values, the echocardiogram shows a left ventricular ejection fraction of sixty-two percent, and diaphragm movement is completely normal."
Manstein took the report and quickly glanced through the data.
"Interesting," he walked over to Chen Jianguo, "he’s been in a wheelchair for eleven years, yet his upper limb activity level is quite high, and his thoracic mobility, both active and passive, is stronger than the average sedentary person. Moreover, judging from his muscle tone and cardiopulmonary reserve, he seems to have been consistently maintaining a rigorous exercise routine."
"Professor, you’re really sharp," Chen Jianguo smiled, "I exercise at home for two hours every day, rain or shine. I also bought various resistance bands for shoulder and core stretching. My wife—" he glanced at Sister Li, "designed the training plan for me and adjusts it regularly. She says it’s alright if I can’t walk, but I can’t let my upper body waste away or let my cardiopulmonary function deteriorate."
Manstein looked at Sister Li. The woman who had been standing behind her husband, slender yet upright, felt slightly embarrassed by this sudden attention, lowered her head, but a faint smile appeared on her lips.
"Sister Li," Manstein said sincerely, "you’re not just a good wife; you’ve effectively acted as his rehabilitation therapist, nutritionist, and psychologist. Eleven years—this is not something just anyone can do."
Sister Li softly replied, "I didn’t study medicine, I just... didn’t want him to fall apart."
"But you took on those roles," Manstein stated, "In the rehabilitation medicine systems of many countries, the role of family caregivers is seriously underestimated. But I have to tell you, at least half of Chen Jianguo’s current physical condition is thanks to you."
At six in the evening, as the light outside the window dimmed, the motion sensor lights in the Institute’s corridor lit up one by one. Finally, all examinations were complete.
Manstein invited Chen Jianguo and his wife to his office. It was a room located at the end of the corridor, furnished with a simplicity that bordered on austerity—a large oak desk, two visitor chairs, a computer connected to the hospital’s intranet, and a wall entirely covered with a whiteboard filled with various experimental data charts, hand-drawn diagrams, and sticky notes of to-do items. In the corner was a small fridge containing a few bottles of mineral water and a box of ginger cookies brought from Germany by August, which he kept for coping with jet lag.
"Mr. Chen, Sister Li, please have a seat." Manstein gestured towards the chairs, while he moved behind his desk but did not sit down.
Chen Jianguo, with both hands on the wheelchair armrests, skillfully adjusted his position to move himself closer to the desk. Sister Li sat on the adjacent chair, took a well-worn thermos from her bag, unscrewed the lid, and poured a cup of warm water, gently placing it before Chen Jianguo. She performed this action very naturally.
Manstein observed this detail without comment, but his gaze softened.
"Mr. Chen, let me systematically go over today’s examination results with you," Manstein said, hands resting on the desktop, body slightly leaning forward, "there’s good news and bad news. According to the habits of you Chinese folks, you might want to hear the bad news first?"
