Chapter 71:

“Mr. Bruce!” Qin Chaoyu interjected with a smile, stopping Bai Jixi’s attempt to explain on her behalf. “I think you can try to trust me. After all, Mr. Bai wouldn’t just casually introduce you to any doctor, right?”

She spoke flawless English, her pronunciation clear and her fluency impeccable. Anyone listening would assume she had studied abroad.

But in reality, Qin Chaoyu had only learned it during her spare time—just a year and a half so far. She wanted to study Western medicine, and since many authoritative textbooks and materials were in foreign languages, she had no choice but to master them. Perhaps her linguistic talent was extraordinary, or perhaps the world of geniuses was simply terrifying—she had effortlessly learned the languages of four countries, including Irisia, Floralia, and Hopeland.

At the very least, she could comfortably read books in these languages. As for conversation, she was only truly fluent in Floralian.

Having been doubted too many times, Qin Chaoyu was no longer fazed. In fact, compared to some of the more insulting skepticism she had faced, Adrian Bruce’s questioning was downright polite.

Adrian Bruce fell into thought, reluctantly admitting that the young woman had a point. Bai was currently seeking a partnership with him and wouldn’t risk offending him by recommending an unreliable doctor. So, could this young woman truly possess remarkable medical skills?

At such a young age? Unbelievable!

Adrian’s skeptical gaze swept over Qin Chaoyu before he shrugged, leaning back in his chair with relaxed honesty. “I’ll admit you make a fair point. But I’m a man who trusts facts. Even if Bai vouches for you, I can’t fully believe in you just yet. So, how do you plan to convince me?”

Qin Chaoyu shook her head. “Mr. Bruce, you must understand—our positions aren’t unequal here. Whether or not I treat you makes no difference to me. I came here solely out of respect for Mr. Bai. But you? I imagine the headaches are quite unbearable.”

Adrian narrowed his eyes. “Bai told you?”

“No. I never rely on others to diagnose my patients. I observe for myself, and I trust only what I see.”

“Oh! Qin, you truly are a remarkable young woman.” In an instant, Adrian’s stern skepticism melted into a warm smile. “I suppose this is what you call ‘observation’ in traditional Chinese medicine?”

“Mn. In TCM, diagnosing a patient’s condition through their complexion is indeed called ‘observation.'” With that, Qin Chaoyu moved to sit beside Bai Jixi. She had been standing for a while and was starting to tire.

Bai Jixi, who had obediently taken his seat the moment Qin intervened, silently observed their exchange.

“Observation… an interesting term,” Adrian mused, his tone unhurried. If not for his slightly pale lips and weary demeanor, one might assume his condition wasn’t as agonizing as it truly was.

“Mr. Bruce,” Qin Chaoyu said, “TCM has many fascinating terms, but right now, the priority isn’t discussing them. Have you decided whether to let me treat you? If not, I’ll take my leave—my time is valuable too.”

“Alright, fine.” After a moment’s hesitation, Adrian finally relented.

His headaches had become unbearable. Three years ago, the condition had started as a minor nuisance—occasional, mild pain that medication could manage. But over time, it worsened, tormenting him nightly, depriving him of sleep. Yet, to keep his mind sharp, he refused to rely on sleeping pills. It was a living hell. Were it not for his iron will, he might have sought a more permanent solution long ago.

That Adrian Bruce had been pushed to such extremes spoke volumes about the severity of his condition.

Qin Chaoyu wasted no time. Seated across from him, she gestured for him to extend his wrist so she could take his pulse.

Unfamiliar with TCM, Adrian was puzzled but complied without protest.

As a fair-skinned Caucasian, his veins stood out starkly beneath his pale, almost translucent skin—a somewhat unsettling sight under the light.

Qin Chaoyu gently pressed her fingers against his pulse point, feeling its rhythm before releasing him. After scrutinizing his complexion, she said, “Mr. Bruce, your headaches stem from mental overexertion. I don’t know your profession, but it must demand intense cognitive effort. Clearly, you haven’t balanced work and rest properly, so your brain is now protesting.”

Mindful of his foreign background, she avoided TCM jargon, explaining in simpler terms.

“Protesting?” Adrian echoed uncertainly. “You mean… overuse?”

“Essentially, yes.” Qin Chaoyu retrieved paper and pen from her medical kit, scribbling as she spoke. “It’s not a serious issue—just needs some brain-nourishing treatment. Here’s a prescription. Take it to a Chinese pharmacy, brew it once daily after dinner. You’ll notice significant relief in three to four days. For a full recovery, continue for three months—guaranteed cure!”

Adrian examined the prescription skeptically. Though he could manage basic Chinese, deciphering the handwritten characters was beyond him.

“This… can really cure me?” He was deeply doubtful. After consulting countless specialists and visiting numerous hospitals—all of whom claimed his condition was untreatable—how could a single sheet of paper hold the solution?

It seemed too fantastical.

With her diagnosis delivered and prescription written, Qin Chaoyu considered her task complete. She packed her medical kit and prepared to leave. “Mr. Bruce, the choice is yours. If you don’t trust it, that’s your prerogative. I have other matters to attend to.”

Nodding at Bai Jixi, she turned and walked away without another glance.

“Sh-She’s just leaving?” Adrian stared after her, then down at the prescription. “Do I… use this or not?”

“Mr. Bruce, you should try it. Dr. Qin is exceptionally skilled.” Bai Jixi rarely spoke idly—his earnest advice was a rarity.

Adrian carefully tucked away the prescription, deciding to give it a shot. If it failed, he could always consult another TCM practitioner later.

To Qin Chaoyu, this was merely a minor episode, quickly forgotten.

Yet, when Adrian’s headaches vanished, he not only finalized his partnership with Bai Corporation but also became one of Qin Chaoyu’s most ardent advocates. His high-society connections—though predominantly Western—later provided her with a favorable environment when she ventured abroad.

But that’s a story for another time.

~

After parting ways with Bai Jixi, Qin Chaoyu headed straight to the Han residence.

A month into treatment, Han Yixun’s legs had regained faint sensation—enough to register pain, albeit only under significant pressure. Still, Gu Qiuyan was overjoyed.

If just one month could restore some feeling to his damaged spinal nerves, what might three months—or six—achieve?

The thought filled Gu Qiuyan with renewed determination. She tirelessly prepared nourishing soups for Han Yixun daily, refusing to let exhaustion deter her.

Han Shuying, too, was swept into the routine. To spare her mother from overexertion, she bustled about like a diligent little bee.

This time, Han Yixun remained fully conscious during the acupuncture session. Unlike before, this particular technique didn’t induce drowsiness—on the contrary, its unique sensations sharpened awareness. His initial slumber had been due to Qin Chaoyu’s infused inner energy, which she no longer employed.

Now, facing the miraculous spectacle again, Han Yixun remained perfectly composed—a far cry from his wide-eyed astonishment during the first session.

Though no longer shocked, he still found it wondrous. The needles spun ceaselessly on his back—how such motion was sustained, he couldn’t fathom.

Once the needles were withdrawn, only tiny red dots marked his skin.

Normally, Qin Chaoyu would leave immediately after packing up. But this time, she lingered, pressing specific points along Han Yixun’s back in a deliberate rhythm.

“The treatment is progressing well,” she remarked. “At this rate, barring complications, you’ll be back on your feet sooner than expected.”

“Really?” Even Han Yixun’s usual calm fractured at the prospect. “Thank you so much, Dr. Qin.”

Incidentally, Han Yixun possessed a remarkably pleasant voice—one that would enthrall any audiophile. Though Qin Chaoyu wasn’t particularly drawn to vocal tones, she still found his speech soothing. Among all the people she’d met, only Bai Jixi’s voice rivaled his.

The two men shared many similarities: both were prodigies of their fields, exceptionally capable, strikingly handsome, and blessed with mellifluous yet sparing speech. Their differences, however, were just as pronounced—one exuded natural dominance, the other a steely, military austerity. Neither outshone the other; each had his own merits.

Realizing her thoughts had wandered, Qin Chaoyu quickly refocused.