Chapter Seventeen: My Medical Skills Are Not So Cheap!

When Lin Huanxi returned to the office, she immediately sensed the odd looks from everyone around her. Their smiles were sly and mocking, as if saying, "We all know your secret."

“Qin Luo was right. She truly isn’t worthy of sympathy,” Lin Huanxi sighed inwardly.

Chen Xiaoxue strode over, her face twisted into a cold sneer. “The director knows about your situation,” she said. “He wants you to go to his office after you arrive.”

With that, she turned and left, heading straight toward the director’s office. Clearly, she intended to make a public spectacle of Lin Huanxi, ensuring she couldn’t wriggle out of the accusation. Chen Xiaoxue never underestimated her opponent—despite Lin Huanxi’s icy demeanor, she was adept at winning people over.

Lin Huanxi stood up, expressionless, and followed Chen Xiaoxue toward the director’s office. Behind them, whispers erupted, all revolving around Lin Huanxi’s rumored romance with a student.

“What kind of student is so bold, even courting a teacher? It’s scandalous.”

“Ah, students these days… Back when we were in school, who would have imagined such a thing?”

“It can’t be true, right? Chen Xiaoxue loves stirring trouble. I’m afraid Teacher Lin’s being framed.”

“Perhaps. Teacher Lin never pays attention to us, so how could she be interested in a student?”

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The director of the School of Biomedical Engineering, surnamed Xiong, was a ‘sea turtle’ who had returned from studying in the US. With five parts talent, four parts connections, and one part luck, he’d risen to his position as director in just a few years—a testament to his methods.

Director Xiong, forty years old, was the epitome of midlife success. His complexion was fair, his build slightly plump. He wore a tailored black suit, a dark tie, and expensive gold-rimmed glasses, exuding an air of cultured elegance.

He stood beside his fish tank, absorbed in tending to his prized dragon-patterned dwarf cichlid, and asked absentmindedly, “Teacher Chen, you claim Teacher Lin is involved with a student—do you have any evidence? Such accusations can’t be made lightly; they could ruin someone’s reputation.”

“Director, I wouldn’t dare say anything without proof. I saw it with my own eyes,” Chen Xiaoxue replied, her tone suddenly softer and more coquettish than when she’d spoken to Qin Luo and Lin Huanxi.

“Well, what evidence do you have?” Director Xiong finally set aside the fish food, wiped his hands with a clean towel, and turned to sit at his desk.

“I took a photo of them together,” Chen Xiaoxue said, pulling out her phone, pressing a few keys, and handing it to Director Xiong.

Indeed, the screen showed Lin Huanxi and a young man leaning close together—a shot Chen Xiaoxue had secretly snapped in the car when the pair weren’t paying attention.

Lin Huanxi frowned, surprised at Chen Xiaoxue’s scheming determination.

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Director Xiong said, handing the phone back.

“Director, how can it not? Think about it—when has Teacher Lin ever been seen with a man? When has she ever been friendly to any of the men in the office? Except for you, has she spoken more than a few words to any male colleague?” Chen Xiaoxue pressed, forgetting that Director Xiong himself had received the cold shoulder from Lin Huanxi, awkwardly explaining herself.

Director Xiong sneered inwardly. Sometimes, silence is better than a foolish explanation.

“There’s more. Yesterday, Wang Hao and I ran into them at New Century Mall. You should’ve seen how close they were, holding hands—” Chen Xiaoxue clicked her tongue in feigned admiration.

Director Xiong felt a headache coming on. As director, he could disregard this woman entirely—even throw her out if he wished. But her boyfriend, Wang Hao, was someone he couldn’t afford to offend; Wang Hao had considerable connections in Yanjing.

“Teacher Lin, what’s the truth of the matter?” Director Xiong finally turned his gaze to Lin Huanxi, who sat quietly in the corner of the sofa.

“He’s my friend,” Lin Huanxi replied coldly.

“What kind of friend?”

“A good friend. Must I report my friendships to you, Director?” Lin Huanxi couldn’t help but retort.

“Director, did you hear that?” Chen Xiaoxue sneered from the sidelines.

“Of course, everyone has the freedom to make friends. There’s no need to report that. But—what is his status? Is he a student here?” Director Xiong’s voice carried a hint of anger.

This woman never gave him respect. If she didn’t have her own connections, he would have kicked her out long ago.

“He’s a teacher at our university,” Lin Huanxi said.

She finally understood why Qin Luo had repeatedly advised her, “If they give you trouble, just take them around my workplace.” He had foreseen all this—such a cunning man.

“A teacher?” Director Xiong frowned, looking toward Chen Xiaoxue.

A romance between teachers was perfectly acceptable—something the administration not only couldn’t interfere with, but often encouraged. Dual-employed couples even received preferential treatment in matters like housing and promotion.

“Director, how is that possible? You just saw the man—do we have any teachers that young? If he really were a teacher here, how could I not know him?” Chen Xiaoxue retorted sarcastically. “Director, don’t let her fool you.”

“Teacher Lin, can you verify his identity?” Director Xiong asked. He too doubted that such a young man could be a faculty member at the medical university.

He himself had only started teaching at this prestigious institution at thirty, and felt accomplished for it. The man in the photo looked like nothing more than a fresh-faced student.

“I can take you to the classroom,” Lin Huanxi replied.

Seeing her confident expression, Chen Xiaoxue suddenly felt uneasy. Could that scoundrel truly be a teacher?

*************************************************

Silence. A deathly silence.

“Hey, man, are you for real?” A student in NIKE gear shouted at Qin Luo from below the lectern.

“I’m not joking with you,” Qin Luo said, tapping his fingers on the podium, his expression earnest.

“Are you kidding? Show us your teaching certificate. How could a teacher be so young? Come down, stop messing with us—or else I won’t let you off,” said a burly, buzz-cut student, his face covered in acne, growling menacingly.

“Sorry, my work ID isn’t ready yet. If you want to see it, I can bring it next class,” Qin Luo replied, eyeing the big guy and thinking, “How is he so much like a thug? Can someone like this really study Chinese medicine?”

“Then why are you here? Get out!” demanded a student in a casual suit, laughing arrogantly. He was even more brazen, holding a girl in his arms in the classroom, their intimacy so blatant it seemed they’d rather undress each other right then and there.

Qin Luo recognized the brand of his jacket—Armani. Among students, anyone who could afford it must come from a wealthy or prominent family.

“I’m here to teach,” Qin Luo said. “And, don’t you know how to respect your teacher? I don’t care about your relationships off campus, but in my classroom, please refrain from public displays of affection. If you can’t wait, you’re welcome to leave and return after you’ve settled matters. I won’t mark you absent.”

“Who the hell do you think you are? What gives you the right to boss me?” the suit-clad student shouted, pointing at Qin Luo.

“I am Qin Luo. Your teacher. And frankly, I don’t think you’re fit to be my student,” Qin Luo replied calmly from the podium, not even bothering to acknowledge the students’ provocations.

“All right, enough arguing,” Wang Jiujie stood up from her seat. Qin Luo noticed then just how tall she was—her long legs were a lethal weapon for any man’s gaze.

“What’s the point of fighting? If he’s really a teacher, let’s test him and find out.”

Wang Jiujie clearly commanded authority in the class. Her reprimand silenced everyone; no one dared to object.

“How shall we test him?” Qin Luo smiled at her and asked.

“Teacher, nine out of ten people are ill, and the last is sub-healthy. Why don’t you check if any of us have health issues? That would combine theory and practice from our Diagnostics course,” Wang Jiujie suggested.

“Anyone else have objections?” Qin Luo scanned the class.

“No objections,” a few students replied, scattered voices.

“If everyone agrees, we’ll start with Wang Jiujie,” Qin Luo jumped off the podium, looked at Wang Jiujie’s face, and said, “Insomnia and palpitations—you haven’t been sleeping well lately, have you?”

“Ah, yes! That’s exactly right!” Wang Jiujie exclaimed. She had just moved from home to the dorms, but struggled with unfamiliar beds, unable to sleep well for days—lying awake until dawn each night.

Qin Luo walked to a girl in the back row, observed her face, and said, “Facial spots and fatigue. Excess blood stasis. Remember to promote circulation.”

“Teacher, is there a prescription for that?” the girl asked excitedly.

Qin Luo took her pen, quickly wrote a prescription in her open notebook.

“Three times a day, cured in a week,” Qin Luo said.

“Thank you, Teacher!” The girl was overjoyed, carefully studying the prescription as if she’d found a treasure.

“Pale complexion, disordered meridians. Severe internal heat. Symptoms of hemorrhoidal bleeding—”

“Both heat and cold, abdominal pain as if wrung. Menstruation blocked. Same prescription as the previous girl.”

“Yellowed pupils, blackened upper lip—symptoms of liver disease.”

“You—no need for examination. Obesity.”

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Qin Luo moved among the students, diagnosing their health issues with speed and accuracy. He even identified hidden ailments that some students hadn’t noticed themselves. Not only that, he offered tailored prescriptions for each person’s condition.

Astonishment. Admiration. Ecstasy.

These emotions flickered across the faces of every student, their eyes following Qin Luo wherever he moved. Each diagnosis sparked amazement among the crowd. Whenever Qin Luo offered a treatment, they discussed its merits, the classroom buzzing like a marketplace.

After Qin Luo reached the last row and helped a boy with acne address his endocrine imbalance, nearly fifty students had been examined.

Of course, he deliberately ignored the suit-clad student and his girlfriend. Qin Luo didn’t spare them a glance, simply passing them by when their turn came.

Is there anything more humiliating than being ignored?

“You haven’t diagnosed me. What’s the matter—are you stumped?” the suit-clad student called out arrogantly.

His attitude sparked resentment among the class, for Qin Luo had already won them over with his skill. Seeing him speak to the teacher in such a manner made them all uncomfortable.

“Are you sure you want me to examine you?” Qin Luo squinted and smiled.

“Of course,” the student replied, confident in his own health.

Qin Luo approached him, studied his face, and said, “Weakness in the waist and knees, heat in the five centers, dizziness and tinnitus, emaciation.”

After listing the symptoms, Qin Luo concluded, “You have kidney yin deficiency.”

The class erupted in laughter—this was the first time Qin Luo had so bluntly diagnosed a student with kidney deficiency.

“You’re full of it. You—” The suit-clad student cursed, pointing at Qin Luo.

“Are you saying my diagnosis is wrong?” Qin Luo retorted coldly. He had no intention of showing mercy to students who insulted their teacher.

“You—”

The student tried to protest, but his girlfriend’s shocked expression betrayed the truth.

Qin Luo ignored him, striding back to the podium. His gaze swept over the students, stern and commanding.

“I don’t care where you come from, or what background you have. In my classroom, you must listen to me.

“If you think I’m too young to be your teacher, leave.

“If you believe I’m incompetent, leave.

“If you refuse to obey classroom rules, leave.

“If you insist on public displays of affection, get out.

“If you don’t take your studies seriously, if you think Chinese medicine is useless, if you’re just going through the motions—I don’t welcome you either.”

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“I’m here as your teacher, to teach you Chinese medicine. I owe you nothing. On the contrary, you owe me.

“If you believe your tuition entitles you to treat me however you please, that I should respect you—sorry, I don’t need your money.

“Let me be very clear: if you’re dissatisfied with me, don’t attend my class. Rest assured, I won’t mark you absent. At the end of the term, you’ll get a passing grade.

“My medical skills were acquired through years of painstaking study. I will only teach those who love medicine and respect me and the sages of our tradition.”

Standing tall on the podium, in flowing robes, with long brows and a proud, eagle-like bearing, Qin Luo pointed to the students below and declared:

“I won’t beg you to learn, nor persuade you. Because my medical skills are not so cheap.”

Thunderous applause erupted below. The boys’ eyes burned with passion, longing to shout out their excitement. The girls clapped and wiped their eyes.

For some reason, they suddenly felt the urge to cry.