Chapter 25: I Am Not the Person You Think I Am!

This is the latest model of NOKIA’s smartphone. Not only does it have calling and texting functions, but you can also listen to music, watch movies, play games, take photos, and chat online. For Qin Luo, the country bumpkin, it felt like he’d found a treasure, and he couldn’t put it down, fiddling with it endlessly.

He first called his grandfather at home, and the two chatted for quite a while over the phone. Eventually, it was Qin Luo who, worried about the cost of long-distance calls, proactively said goodbye to the lonely old man at home who was almost growing moss from boredom and wouldn’t stop nagging.

“Heh, at home he always scolds me. Now that I’m gone, he misses me, doesn’t he?” Qin Luo felt a sense of satisfaction from this little revenge.

After some exploration, Qin Luo finally learned how to use the camera function. He went all out, pouting, raising his eyebrows, making peace signs, pulling funny faces, and acting cute for a series of selfies. When he saw his quirky, trendy look left in the camera’s album, he was so excited he rolled around on the bed.

This poor child rarely had the chance to touch such high-tech things.

Qin Luo wanted to try chatting online, knowing that’s what young people do nowadays. But after many attempts, he couldn’t manage to log in.

Each time he tried, the system told him his password was wrong.

Later, Qin Luo discovered he’d been entering someone else’s account number. To log in, he needed to apply for his own account—it wasn’t as simple as entering a random string of numbers and a password.

Of course, he didn’t understand such advanced knowledge yet.

After dinner, Qin Luo accompanied Lin Qingyuan in the courtyard for tea.

“Qin Luo, I called your grandfather today. Told him about you teaching at the Medical University. He supports your choice, just reminded you to take care of your health,” Lin Qingyuan said, holding a cup of the finest Tieguanyin, smiling warmly.

Before, this big house was home to only him and his granddaughter, and it always felt lonely. Now, with Qin Luo here, the house felt lively. Having a younger generation he could converse with, someone who might become his granddaughter’s husband, Lin Qingyuan was deeply satisfied.

“It was your choice, wasn’t it?” Qin Luo thought to himself. At that time, it was you and Old Wang who insisted I stay in Yanjing to teach traditional Chinese medicine—what did it have to do with me?

“I called Grandpa too, and he said supportive things,” Qin Luo said with a smile.

“Yes, indeed. Promoting traditional Chinese medicine is our duty,” Lin Qingyuan sighed. “With Chinese medicine in decline, we’re anxious, but we’re old, our hearts willing but our strength lacking. So, we can only entrust it to you young people. Qin Luo, I hope you can find a path for Chinese medicine to thrive. When the day comes that everyone learns and uses Chinese medicine, those of us who’ve studied it all our lives can finally rest in peace.”

“Grandpa Lin, that’s a heavy responsibility. I’m afraid I can’t shoulder it,” Qin Luo said with a wry smile.

“If you strive, you’ll succeed; if you try, it’ll work. I believe in you.” Lin Qingyuan said. “By the way, how’s Huanxi’s illness?”

“It’s improving,” Qin Luo replied. “As long as she’s willing to accept my treatment, there’s an eighty percent chance she’ll recover. The worst thing about this illness is isolation—if her inner knots remain untied, there’s no cure.”

“Indeed. Before she went to study in America, Huanxi was such a good child. When she came back, she seemed like a different person. For the first few days, I wondered if she was still my granddaughter... Qin Luo, if you can cure her, you’ll resolve one of my greatest worries.”

“I certainly will,” Qin Luo promised again. What concerned him more wasn’t whether he could cure Lin Huanxi, but what would happen if her emotional backlash emerged afterward.

“As long as she gets better. Keep treating her, no need to rush. Take it slow. Haha,” Lin Qingyuan chuckled.

If some romantic entanglement developed during the treatment, that would be even more wonderful.

“I’ll do my best,” Qin Luo said.

“Huanxi seems to have gone upstairs? Go check on her. If she’s asleep, you won’t be able to treat her.”

“All right. Good night,” Qin Luo said, standing up. It was indeed time for Lin Huanxi’s acupuncture session.

Qin Luo returned to his room for a shower, then took the needle case and knocked on Lin Huanxi’s door.

She was already prepared, having just showered herself, her hair damp, her skin carrying that unique feminine scent mingled with the fragrance of bath products. The purple robe she’d worn before had been replaced; tonight she wore a black silk nightgown.

It was as thin as a cicada’s wing, the close-fitting silk accentuating her curves, fiery and seductive, making one’s blood boil.

“Would you like some tea first?” Lin Huanxi asked. Now, her conversation with Qin Luo was much more natural; she no longer showed the instinctive aversion and rejection she did with other men.

“No need, I’ve just had some,” Qin Luo replied, sneaking another glance at the fullness of her nightgown’s front. “Shall we begin? Would you like to change clothes?”

“Change? I just did,” Lin Huanxi said.

“Heh, all right, let’s start then,” Qin Luo said awkwardly. Deep down, he wished she’d change again; this outfit was too visually stimulating, making it hard to focus.

Some women are more alluring clothed than unclothed.

Qin Luo felt this woman was like a mountain of flames—the closer one drew, the more likely one would be consumed by her.

A restless heart makes for unsteady hands.

As a bead of sweat rolled into his eyes, his hand slipped ever so slightly as he inserted the needle.

Ah!

Lin Huanxi cried out, thin streams of blood appearing on her thigh.

“Sorry, sorry!” Qin Luo hurriedly grabbed a sanitary pad, lifted the hem of her dress, and helped wipe the blood.

“I can do it myself,” Lin Huanxi said. With Qin Luo’s large-scale touch at the root of her thigh, her breath grew rapid, her hands on the bed almost losing strength.

“Oh—” Lin Huanxi’s body went limp, falling backward.

Qin Luo, leaning over her, reached out to catch her, and together they rolled onto the bed.

Except for his own mother, this was Qin Luo’s first close encounter with a woman’s body.

Last time, he’d fallen into a nurse’s arms, but that nurse was much more heavily clothed.

Her neckline gaped open, spring light spilling forth. Her skin was as smooth as jade, soft as cream.

Qin Luo lay quietly in Lin Huanxi’s embrace, knowing it wasn’t right, but feeling an unwillingness to leave, a lingering attachment.

Soft. Comfortable. Fragrant. It made him want to sigh aloud.

With a slight tilt of his head, Qin Luo could see the alluring hollow just before him.

Lin Qingyuan pushed open the door. “Qin Luo, I thought about it and decided to come learn a thing or two—hmm, you two?”

Lin Qingyuan’s pupils widened, standing at the doorway astonished. “That’s fast, isn’t it?”

Qin Luo wished he could die. How could the old man pick such a moment to walk in?

He quickly climbed out of his granddaughter’s arms, awkwardly explaining, “It’s not what you think.”

“I know,” Lin Qingyuan said. “Just remember to lock the door next time.”

Bang!

The old man reminded them with a smile, then turned and left, even closing the door for them.

Qin Luo and Lin Huanxi looked at each other, unsure what to say.

“You’re too nervous,” Lin Huanxi said. After the initial panic, she felt calm.

“I still couldn’t pass this test,” Qin Luo said helplessly.

The ‘Twelve Daoist Exercises’ included clearing the mind and overcoming emotional obstacles. But he’d failed the challenge. Otherwise, Qin Luo’s spiritual cultivation would have risen another step.

As the Daoists say: To transcend the world, first enter the world. To forget emotion, first experience emotion.

Qin Luo thought, perhaps it was time for him to fall in love.

“What test?”

“The beauty test,” Qin Luo smiled. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we should leave it for tonight?”

“No,” she replied.

Lin Huanxi’s eyes were clear, and Qin Luo’s thoughts didn’t dare wander. He gathered himself and resumed the acupuncture. This time, he smoothly completed the three points.

“Rest early. Good night,” Qin Luo said, packing up the needle case.

“Qin Luo,” Lin Huanxi called.

His heart skipped. Was she hoping he would stay?

Too soon. He wasn’t ready.

“What is it?” Qin Luo turned to ask.

“I want to know, are there others with my illness?” Lin Huanxi inquired.

“Yes.”

“How are they now?”

“They’re all living happy lives. Dating, marrying, having children—no different from anyone else,” Qin Luo said, smiling.

Unless, of course, that overwhelming emotional backlash appeared.

If it did, and the attending doctor wasn’t willing to accept the patient’s feelings, then the patient would simply move from one cage to another, unable to be saved.

In the morning, when Qin Luo came downstairs in sports clothes to exercise, Lin Qingyuan was already waiting in the courtyard.

Seeing Qin Luo, Lin Qingyuan smiled. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes, pretty well,” Qin Luo nodded, adopting the ‘Swaying the Heavenly Pillar’ stance from the Daoist Twelve Exercises.

“Plans never keep pace with change. You young people always do things that catch us off guard. But it’s good—I hope Huanxi finds a good partner soon. I’m getting old, almost retired, so I’ll be able to help take care of your children,” Lin Qingyuan said, practicing tai chi.

A partner? Taking care of children?

“Grandpa Lin, did you misunderstand something?” Qin Luo asked, puzzled.

“Misunderstand? What—are you shy? Embarrassed to admit it?”

“No, I just don’t know what I should admit,” Qin Luo said with a bitter smile.

“You and Huanxi—nothing happened?”

“No,” Qin Luo replied.

“Really nothing?”

“Really nothing,” Qin Luo insisted.

“How can that be?” The old man wasn’t convinced.

“I’m not the type you imagine,” Qin Luo said.

Lin Qingyuan recalled the situation and then slapped his thigh, full of regret. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been curious about how you treated her phobia, I wouldn’t have barged in. If I hadn’t gone in—what should have happened would have happened, right?”

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