At 5:17 a.m., Yang Ping abruptly woke up from a dream.
It wasn't a nightmare, but a thought. Like a seed lying dormant deep in his consciousness, it finally emerged at this neither too early nor too late moment. He lay there for a few seconds, then gently lifted the quilt and walked into the study.
When the desk lamp lit up, he saw the experiment log spread open on the desk. It was a page he had casually flipped to before going to sleep last night, containing the original data of the first clinical application of K Therapy, with its corners slightly curled.
He didn't deliberately look for this record; it had always been there, in the desk drawer, stacked with memories of those years.
Yang Ping sat down and started flipping through it.
K Therapy is not a cure-all; it works for some people and not for others. Why? He had asked himself this question for years.
Yang Ping turned the log to the last page, which was blank. He picked up a pen and wrote at the top of the blank page:
