"Up to now, that's always been our way of doing things. Yes, we've missed some talent because of it, but we've never regretted it, and we're not going to start regretting it over something like that."
"But in your particular case, I really do regret it."
Lu Cheng said, "Teacher Gu, you're overstating it. From my point of view, you don't regret it, and you don't need to."
"Honestly, I can see it. Because I didn't run off, you've actually been at ease about it all along."
"So there's no need to regret anything, really."
"Huashan Hospital has Huashan Hospital's rules, and I have my own fate."
"The way things are now is pretty good. I'm not tied down by anything."
Professor Gu knew that constantly bringing up the past was just turning regret into a kind of wind—wind into the nose, across the mouth, into the lungs, and then breathed out again, still regret.
"Lu Cheng, this partial separation anesthesia of yours, can it really be turned into an anesthesia machine?"
