Robert is in a good mood today.

This morning, he just completed a rotator cuff repair surgery. The patient was the principal violinist of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. The postoperative effect was ideal, and it’s estimated that he could be back on stage in three months. With no surgeries scheduled for the afternoon, he found rare free time and sat in his private clinic office located in Long Island, brewing a pot of West Lake Longjing tea he brought back from China, leisurely scrolling through his phone. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Outside the window, the lawn was trimmed neatly, a few maple trees were all red, and the ground was covered with fallen leaves. This clinic is now not only the number one private sports medicine clinic in the United States but also a scenic line in the affluent area of Long Island.

The clinic’s name is quite special, "Brother Luo’s Clinic."

These four large characters are written in gold-plated regular script on a redwood plaque, hanging in the most prominent position at the clinic entrance. On each side of the plaque hangs a string of red lanterns, which are lit during holidays. Patients who come for the first time often pause, thinking they’ve walked into a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown by mistake.

But Robert is very proud of this name.

"Brother Luo," so intimate, down-to-earth, and full of Chinese flavor. He said he came up with the name himself, inspired by when he was training at Sanbo, and those graduate students would call Yang Ping "Professor Yang," but in private, they’d all say, "Brother Yang is really nice." He thought then, when would he also be called "Brother Luo" by someone?

Now he has achieved that.

The clinic’s decor is entirely Chinese style. At the entrance is a Chinese-style screen with carvings of pine and crane motifs symbolizing longevity. The sofa in the waiting area is made of redwood, paired with silk cushions. The walls are adorned with several ink paintings, featuring landscapes and flowers and birds. In the corner stands a large vase, a blue and white porcelain, allegedly from the Qing Dynasty, though whether true or not, it looks good anyway.

The most striking feature is the wall full of pennants, though all the pennants are the same.

Whenever new patients come in and see this pennant wall, they are usually stunned. Then Robert would walk over and explain, "These are from my patients who wanted to thank me, expressing their gratitude in this Chinese way."

He would also proudly emphasize, "My teacher in China is Professor Yang Ping, and I am his first direct disciple in North America."

He’s said this countless times, but every time, he still feels proud.

Robert’s phone rang, it was a message from the clinic’s head nurse, Marian: "Boss, the scholarship list for learning Chinese this month is out. Do you want to take a look?"

He replied, "Send it to my email, I’ll look at it later."

The "learning Chinese scholarship" Marian mentioned is a policy Robert implemented at the clinic; any staff member who learns Chinese and reaches a certain level can receive a generous reward. With the gradual escalation of the scholarship, now the reward for Level 4 Chinese proficiency is no small amount, enough for a down payment on a house or a new car, and the reward for Level 6 is even more generous.

This policy has been in effect for several years with remarkable results.

Now everyone in the clinic, from the top to the bottom, from doctors to nurses, from receptionists to security, can speak fluent Chinese. Marian, a native New Yorker, can now use Chinese to chat with patients about everyday matters. Old Tom, a tall African American security guard, speaks Chinese better than some Chinese people, and every time he sees a Chinese patient, he will greet them in Chinese, "Hello! Welcome to Brother Luo’s Clinic!"

Robert often jokes that his clinic is "the place with the best Chinese in New York."

Every time someone greets him in Chinese, "Hello, Dr. Luo," he feels a bit closer to his teacher. Because every time he sees those pennants, he recalls the days at Sanbo, and remembers Yang Ping standing in front of the operating table. Because every time he hears the security guard Old Tom say "Wish you a speedy recovery" to a patient in Chinese, he feels that this is the atmosphere he wants to create, warm, friendly, and full of human touch.

He put down his phone and took a sip from his tea cup. The aroma of West Lake Longjing spread between his lips and teeth, he closed his eyes, savoring this familiar taste.

This is the tea Professor Yang liked to drink. That time at Sanbo, he followed Yang Ping during an outpatient session, saw over thirty patients in a morning, and was so tired his back couldn’t straighten. Returning to the office, Yang Ping made him a cup of tea, saying, "Have some tea, it will help soothe your fatigue." He took a sip, feeling he had never tasted anything so good. Later he got to know that it was West Lake Longjing, a kind of Chinese tea.

When he was about to leave, Yang Ping gave him a box. He was reluctant to drink it and brought it back to lock it in his office.

The door was knocked, and Marian peeked in, her face showing an excitement she couldn’t conceal.

"Boss, there’s a special patient appointment who wants to see you."

Robert looked up: "Special? How special?"

Marian lowered her voice as if sharing a great secret, "Jack Sullivan."

Robert paused for a moment.

Jack Sullivan, the name is almost universally recognized in America. A top-tier Hollywood action star, with three consecutive films grossing over a billion US Dollars, an Oscar winner, also an extreme sports enthusiast, his social media followers exceed a hundred million, and any photo he posts can instantly go viral.

"What’s wrong with him?" Robert asked.

Marian said, "His knee, reportedly injured while filming a new movie, he’s had two surgeries before, but it’s hurting again. His agent contacted us, wanting you to have a look personally."

Robert put down the tea cup, stood up, "Let them in."