The Lian family lived on a solitary hill, much like the Gu family before them, though the Lian residence was even more remote, and the hill steeper.
As the car drew closer, Qin Chaoyu gradually caught sight of a house nestled among towering trees. When they reached the courtyard gate, likely because Bo Jixi had informed them in advance, they were able to drive straight in without any hindrance.
Stepping into the courtyard, Qin Chaoyu was surprised to find that the Lian family’s home was a rustic two-story farmhouse, exuding a strong rural charm. The yard was spacious, filled with fruit trees, flowers, and vegetables, brimming with life. Along the central path, various flowers bloomed vibrantly—nothing particularly rare or expensive, just hardy varieties that thrived under good care. Though not luxurious, the little courtyard had a quiet, unpretentious beauty of its own.
As soon as they got out of the car, Mr. and Mrs. Lian hurried forward to greet them. Despite Qin Chaoyu’s youthful appearance, they showed no sign of surprise.
“Jixi, thank you for taking the time to think of our family despite your busy schedule,” Mr. Lian said. He was a slightly plump middle-aged man with a round face that gave him an unexpectedly endearing look. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes suggested he was usually cheerful, and though he greeted Qin Chaoyu and Bo Jixi warmly, the sorrow in his expression was unmistakable—no doubt due to his son’s condition.
Qin Chaoyu sighed inwardly. *The love of parents knows no bounds.*
Bo Jixi, usually aloof and proud, softened in Mr. Lian’s presence, behaving like an ordinary junior. “Uncle, it’s nothing. I just happened to know someone skilled in medicine, so I thought I’d bring her along. It’s always worth a try.”
Mr. Lian sighed, clearly not holding out much hope but forcing himself to stay positive. He turned to Qin Chaoyu with a polite smile. “You must be Dr. Qin. We appreciate your help.”
Mrs. Lian nodded in agreement, taking Qin Chaoyu’s hand with maternal warmth. “Even if it doesn’t work out, we’re grateful for your kindness,” she said gently. From the moment she saw this girl—younger than her own son—she had taken a liking to her. There was something steadfast beneath Qin Chaoyu’s gentle exterior, a quiet strength that made Mrs. Lian’s heart soften.
Mrs. Lian was a woman whose gentleness ran deep, not the bland kind but one steeped in grace, like the elegant ladies in classical paintings. Her tenderness was subtle yet irresistible, the kind that could thaw even the coldest heart.
Qin Chaoyu, unfamiliar with such motherly affection, felt a pang of awkwardness. Her own mother had passed away early in her past life, leaving only faint memories. In this life, she had been raised by her rough-around-the-edges master. Though she never felt deprived, this sudden warmth stirred something deep inside her—something she hadn’t felt in so long that it left her momentarily flustered.
She managed an awkward smile. “I’ll do my best.”
Mr. Lian patted his wife’s shoulder reassuringly and gestured toward the house. “Let’s not stand out here. Come inside.”
Once indoors, Qin Chaoyu declined the offer to rest and immediately asked to see the patient. Unlike with previous patients’ families, she genuinely liked this couple and wanted to examine their son as soon as possible. If there was any hope of a cure, it would bring them immense joy.
Lian Huijie’s bedroom was on the second floor, in the best spot facing the sun. As soon as dawn broke, warm sunlight would flood the room.
When they entered, Qin Chaoyu’s gaze landed on the man seated by the large floor-to-ceiling window. He was turned slightly away, lips pressed tightly together, staring blankly outside as if captivated by something beyond the glass, oblivious to their arrival.
Mrs. Lian’s eyes reddened at the sight of her once-vibrant son now so withdrawn. He used to be full of laughter and mischief—though she’d often scolded him for his carefree ways, she had always been secretly proud of him. But since the accident that left him paralyzed, three years of futile treatments had drained his spirit, leaving behind what seemed like an empty shell.
Mr. Lian, too, was heartbroken. He held his wife close, silently reminding her not to show her sorrow in front of their son. He was already suffering enough—as his family, they had to keep his hopes alive.
For three years, Mr. Lian had been the pillar holding this family together. There were times he felt exhausted, but as the head of the household, he couldn’t afford to collapse. If he did, the family—and the Lian name—would be finished.
Mrs. Lian covered her mouth, nodding as she wiped away her tears. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and approached her son with a gentle smile.
“Son, Jixi has brought a doctor to see you,” she said softly, as if speaking to a fragile porcelain doll. “So many people care about you. Let’s not lose hope. Will you let her examine you?”
Lian Huijie slowly turned his head at his mother’s voice, taking a long moment before nodding.
He knew how much his parents had sacrificed for him—consulting every doctor, domestic and foreign, only to be told the same thing: *rest and recover.* He understood what that meant—no hope of a cure, just dragging out a life confined to a wheelchair. He had considered giving up, especially right after the accident, but the thought of his parents’ unwavering efforts kept him going. Now, after three years, even the faintest hope had faded. His only reason to live was for them.
Seeing his agreement, Mrs. Lian quickly motioned for Qin Chaoyu to proceed.
Qin Chaoyu stepped forward, frowning slightly and shaking her head.
The Lians tensed at the gesture. After so many disappointments, they still clung to hope before each consultation, but the plunge from hope to despair was always agonizing.
Bo Jixi, realizing their misunderstanding, explained, “Uncle, Aunt, she’s not saying she can’t treat him.”
Qin Chaoyu hadn’t even begun the examination—how could she have reached a conclusion so quickly?
Realizing her mistake, Qin Chaoyu apologized, “I should have been clearer. I meant that it’s difficult to examine him in this position. Could we move him to the bed? I need to check his acupuncture points.”
Mr. Lian hurried forward to help, but Lian Huijie, despite three years in a wheelchair, was still a sturdy young man. At his age, Mr. Lian couldn’t lift him alone.
Mrs. Lian moved to assist, but Bo Jixi stopped her. “Aunt, let me. I’m stronger.”
Bo Jixi had practically grown up under Mrs. Lian’s care—she and his mother had been close friends since before marriage, and their bond had never weakened. Though contact had lessened after Bo Jixi’s parents passed, the connection remained. Mrs. Lian didn’t hesitate to step aside.
Lian Huijie remained unresponsive as they moved him to the bed.
Once he was settled, Qin Chaoyu set her medical kit on the table and retrieved a small wooden hammer. Its dark surface bore faint patterns and emitted a faint medicinal aroma. She had found it in her spatial storage—crafted by an unknown predecessor, it had been soaked in preservative herbs like mustard, cloves, and cardamom. Though she hadn’t yet discovered its full purpose, she had brought it along on a whim.
She tapped various points on Lian Huijie’s legs, asking if he felt anything, but he shook his head each time.
*This paralysis is severe,* she thought, setting the hammer aside. Instead, she pressed firmly on each acupoint with her fingers, repeating her questions.
When she reached the *Juliao* point, Lian Huijie gasped in pain.
Qin Chaoyu’s eyes lit up, but she continued checking the remaining points, though he remained silent.
The Lians watched anxiously, restraining themselves from interrupting despite their concern.
After finishing, Qin Chaoyu flexed her fingers—half an hour of intense pressure had left them sore.
Not wanting the Lians to misinterpret their son’s reaction, she explained, “Him feeling pain is a good sign. It means his legs aren’t completely numb. While most points showed no response, the fact that the *Juliao* point did means there’s still hope.”
Mr. Lian hesitated. “What… what does that mean?”
Qin Chaoyu smiled. “The *Juliao* point is where the gallbladder meridian’s energy gathers before descending. Its sensitivity indicates his legs haven’t fully atrophied.”
Seeing their confusion, she simplified: “His legs can be treated.”
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