In the quiet, subterranean laboratory of the courtyard house, the heavy hum of the medical machinery had finally slowed to a gentle, rhythmic purr.
Chen Yan was slumped heavily into a chair, his surgical gown completely soaked through with sweat. His brilliant, usually sharp eyes were bloodshot and glazed over with absolute physical exhaustion. He tossed his latex gloves into a bin, his hands trembling slightly from the high-precision medical marathon he had just completed.
"My part of the equation is solved, Ying'er," Chen Yan mumbled, his voice raspy as he rubbed his temples. "The neurotoxins have been completely flushed, and his neural pathways are stable. But physically, his muscles have been dormant for eleven years. He can think, he can speak, but he cannot walk a marathon. I'm going to sleep for the next twelve hours. Do not wake me unless the world is ending."
"Rest, brother. You've earned it," Chen Ying said softly, her eyes flashing with deep gratitude.
