Chapter 101:

Yu Minglü’s connections were no joke. It took less than two days for the information he was inquiring about to come back to him.

Sitting in his office, Yu Minglü seemed deep in thought, as if pondering a very important issue.

After a long while, his gaze steadied, indicating he had likely reached a decision.

~

The family Yu Minglü was to perform surgery for was the Guan family, and the patient was the elderly patriarch.

This man was a retired general who had once held the position of Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission—a true hero of the older generation. During a leadership transition, recognizing the ambitions of the incoming chairman and suffering from poor health, he chose to step down voluntarily, relinquishing power and retreating to a secondary role. Because of this, the current chairman held him in high regard.

Unlike his predecessor, the current chairman was a strong-willed leader determined to push through reforms. Upon taking office, he set his sights on restructuring both the military and the government. However, such sweeping changes were fraught with complications, and targeting any faction would be difficult. The Guan patriarch’s graceful exit provided the chairman with an opportunity, which was why he felt such gratitude toward the old general.

Even in retirement, enjoying a quiet life with his grandchildren, the Guan patriarch’s influence and connections remained intact. It could be said that as long as he lived, he was the stabilizing pillar of the Guan family.

Now that the old man was hospitalized, the family publicly claimed it was just routine treatment for a chronic condition, not daring to reveal the severity of his condition. Yet, within their circles, everyone knew the truth.

Guan Qidong, exhausted, sat on a bench in the hallway, taking a moment to breathe. As the eldest son and heir of the Guan family, he bore immense pressure—concealing his father’s condition to prevent external threats, maintaining a normal work routine, and comforting his family internally. The strain had left him tense, unable to sleep soundly, fearing he might wake to tragic news.

Guan Qining had just stepped out of the ward when he saw his elder brother, who had always seemed unshakable in his eyes, looking utterly drained. He approached and sat beside him, patting his back. “Brother, you’ve been working hard.” These days, no one in the family had shouldered more than Guan Qidong.

Guan Qidong glanced at his younger brother before turning away, shaking his head dismissively.

Guan Qining sighed, scratching his head in frustration. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket but, spotting the “No Smoking” sign on the wall, put away his lighter without lighting it, merely holding the cigarette between his fingers.

He wasn’t fond of smoking, but as a businessman, social engagements often made it unavoidable. When offered a cigarette, refusing would be impolite. Usually, he’d just hold it, only smoking when absolutely necessary. Today, though, his agitation made him crave one.

Leaning back in his seat, he felt a rare sense of uncertainty—something he hadn’t experienced even when defying his father to venture into business. “Brother,” he asked Guan Qidong, “do you think Dad’s surgery will succeed? A thirty percent success rate… it’s practically no different from zero.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Guan Qidong replied without turning, his voice steady as ever, soothing his brother.

Seeing his elder brother’s composure, Guan Qining felt reassured. Yes, even if the worst happened, as long as the Guan family had the two of them, there was still hope.

As the Guan brothers spoke, Yu Minglü entered the patriarch’s ward.

The dozing caregiver jolted awake at the sight of him. Yu Minglü waved a hand, signaling her to stay quiet—he was just there for a routine check and didn’t want to disturb the old man’s rest.

The illness had been tormenting the patriarch; sleep was one of the few comforts left.

Yu Minglü carefully adjusted the medical equipment, checking the old man’s vitals and recording them. Finding nothing amiss, he quietly closed the door and went to find the Guan brothers.

The brothers had seen Yu Minglü enter their father’s room but assumed it was just another daily check-up. They didn’t follow, not wanting to risk waking their father with too many people around.

To their surprise, Yu Minglü approached them afterward to discuss the surgery. Their hearts sank, fearing bad news.

Guan Qidong’s expression remained controlled—years in politics had ingrained that habit. Guan Qining, however, couldn’t hide his anxiety. Yu Minglü quickly clarified, “Don’t worry. I actually have good news. As I mentioned before, the greatest risk in your father’s surgery is the high probability of severe bleeding, which would be life-threatening.” He avoided saying “fatal,” not wanting to jinx it.

The brothers nodded, urging him to continue.

“A few days ago, I met someone skilled in acupuncture hemostasis. At first, I was skeptical, but she demonstrated it in front of me. She also mentioned a case at Yuzhou Hospital where she stopped a brain hemorrhage, saving the patient. I verified the story—it’s true.” Yu Minglü paused, gauging their reactions. “I came to you immediately because using this method requires your consent. What do you think?”

Guan Qining couldn’t hold back. “If we use it, will my father’s chances improve?”

Yu Minglü gave a conservative estimate: “Seventy percent.”

“Seventy?” Guan Qining murmured.

Unlike his impulsive brother, Guan Qidong remained composed. “Is this person reliable?”

Yu Minglü nodded. “Absolutely. She was referred by Wei Bolan.”

Guan Qidong knew Wei Bolan’s reputation. “Can we meet her?”

“Of course. She’s interning in the outpatient department. I’ll bring her up. Let’s talk in my office—it’s more private.”

Guan Qidong agreed, leading the way. Guan Qining hurried after them.

Yu Minglü personally fetched Qin Chaoyu from the outpatient clinic, dismissing the staff to ensure confidentiality.

On the way upstairs, he briefed Qin Chaoyu on the situation to prepare her.

From the start of her medical career, Qin Chaoyu had faced skepticism due to her youth and appearance. By now, doubt no longer fazed her.

Entering the office, she sized up the Guan brothers and cut to the chase: “If this is about acupuncture hemostasis, I can confidently say I can stop any severe bleeding during surgery. That’s all there is to it.”

Guan Qidong was impressed by her clear, confident demeanor. His initial three-tenths trust rose to seven. Age didn’t faze him—decades in politics had taught him never to underestimate anyone, regardless of youth.

He didn’t take offense at her bluntness. Talent justified confidence. “You are…?”

“Qin Chaoyu.”

“Miss Qin,” Guan Qidong said, skipping formalities. “As the patient’s family, we want the best care possible. I won’t mince words—we need more proof to trust you with my father’s life.”

Qin Chaoyu understood. “I’ve treated the Gu family patriarch’s coronary heart disease, the Lian heir’s paralysis, and the Han family’s eldest son’s condition. Before coming to the capital, I worked as a specialist at Yuzhou Hospital. My credentials speak for my skill. I gain nothing from deceiving you.”

Guan Qidong fell silent, wrestling with the decision. Guan Qining, aware of his own inexperience, didn’t interrupt.

Yu Minglü stayed quiet—this was the family’s call. Privately, he thought they should take the chance.

The office was dead silent.

Finally, Guan Qidong met Qin Chaoyu’s gaze solemnly. “We’re counting on you.”

With their trust given, Qin Chaoyu nodded firmly. “Understood.”

With the biggest risk addressed, surgery could proceed. “Director Yu,” Guan Qidong said, “please arrange it as soon as possible.”

Yu Minglü replied, “We’ve been preparing despite the delay. Tomorrow at nine a.m. works. Miss Qin, rest well tonight.”

Qin Chaoyu didn’t need reminding—she knew the stakes.

The next morning at 8:30, the surgical team—doctors, nurses, anesthesiologists—gathered in the prep room, awaiting the patient.

Qin Chaoyu stood out among the familiar faces. The staff stole glances, curious about the stranger Yu Minglü had personally vouched for.

But professionalism kept questions at bay.

Qin Chaoyu meditated, ignoring the scrutiny. For her, the surgery was all that mattered.

Technically, this was her first real time in an operating room. The Yuzhou case didn’t count—she’d been too focused on the acupuncture to notice anything else.

She’d long wanted to study Western medicine, seeking ways to integrate its strengths into traditional Chinese medicine. This was her chance to observe, and she wouldn’t waste it.