Chapter Thirty: A Birthday Invitation!

Good people die young, while the wicked live a thousand years. Having witnessed too many incidents of petty villains prospering, Qin Luo couldn’t help but question his own outlook on life and values. He even began to wonder whether he should truly adhere to the noble virtues his family teachings had instilled in him.

Yet, as a doctor, how could he win the trust of his patients without medical ethics? The legendary physician Sun Simiao once proclaimed: “Treat patients as your own kin, and never belittle your peers.” But now, how many doctors truly uphold such conduct? If everyone observed these principles, the strained relationship between doctors and patients in China would not be as tense as it is today. The fact that doctors are scorned as “wolves in white coats” certainly has its historical roots.

Still, just because others do wrong, does that excuse oneself to do the same with a clear conscience? In that case, what difference would there be between oneself and the first wrongdoer?

“I won’t be a good person. Nor will I be a bad one. I’ll just be someone who’s neither good nor bad,” Qin Luo mused inwardly.

After finishing acupuncture on Lin Huanxi, he packed away his needle kit and said, “With two more consecutive treatments, your liver meridian will be fully unobstructed. Afterwards, herbal medicine should suffice for maintenance.”

Lin Huanxi lowered the hem of her nightdress and softly murmured her assent. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, a faint sense of reluctance lingered in her heart.

“Stay for some tea before you go,” she called out, stopping Qin Luo just as he was about to leave.

The scene felt uncannily like those melodramatic TV moments, where a lonely woman tries to keep her lover from leaving. This thought brought a fleeting panic to her usually frosty face.

Qin Luo considered for a moment, then nodded. “All right.”

Night, distinct from the blazing clarity brought by daylight, is a world painted in another hue by the gods. Its colors are dazzling yet veiled, enchanting yet softly blurred, luring people into a gentle intoxication.

Within the same dimension of time and space, countless stories unfold under the cover of night. How many, like them, sit beneath the vines, savoring tea and moonlight?

Lin Huanxi’s tea-brewing was somewhat clumsy, suggesting she rarely did it herself. Still, her earnest concentration was deeply alluring, pleasing Qin Luo’s eyes.

If not necessary, Lin Huanxi seldom spoke first. As the man, it fell to Qin Luo to start the conversation—after all, it wouldn’t do for them to just sit there in silence. The ancients were wise: when a man wished to ignore a woman, he’d simply say, “At this moment, silence is better than words,” and the woman would be inexplicably moved.

“Did you see the post on the school forum?” Qin Luo asked.

“Yes,” Lin Huanxi replied, setting the brewed tea before him.

“Should I speak up to clarify things for you?” Qin Luo inquired, watching her unperturbed demeanor. Did she truly not care at all?

“How would you clarify it?”

“I’d explain that we’re just friends. At the very least, I can reveal my identity,” Qin Luo suggested. If he said he was a teacher, perhaps the current uproar would die down.

There’s always something tantalizing about rumors of a student and a teacher—it excites the imagination, which was likely why their situation had become the talk of the campus.

“Why bother explaining to them?” Lin Huanxi looked up at him.

“Well… I just don’t want your reputation to be damaged.”

She nodded and said, “Before all this happened, they called me ‘the stone woman.’ Some even suspected I was a lesbian.”

Qin Luo had to admit, there really was no need to explain anything to such idle gossips. No matter what you said, they’d always find something else to believe.

“Do you know Li Qingcheng?” Qin Luo asked. He couldn’t explain why he brought it up; as soon as he did, he regretted it.

“You know her?” Lin Huanxi raised her elegant brows, obviously not fond of Li Qingcheng.

“Not exactly. We’re merely acquaintances,” Qin Luo replied.

“Don’t get involved with her,” Lin Huanxi warned.

“I understand,” Qin Luo nodded. He also realized the old saying was true: two tigresses cannot share one mountain.

“If only life could always be this peaceful,” Lin Huanxi murmured, gazing up at the moon.

Qin Luo greedily admired her almost sacred profile, intoxicated by the moment. He couldn’t tell if she meant life as it was now, or the tranquility she felt with him beside her, but he didn’t dare assume.

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

Though he’d mentally prepared himself, Qin Luo was still stunned by the scene when he entered the classroom.

The spacious room was packed to the brim, with students even dragging chairs to the back row. Some were squeezed together, two sharing a single seat. He couldn’t tell if they were there for the lesson or just to watch the spectacle.

Since Ma Heng switched classes, Qin Luo’s clinical Chinese medicine class had only forty-nine students. Yet now, nearly two hundred people had crammed into the room—meaning the auditors outnumbered the actual students several times over.

“My good looks have done me in. Maybe I should start charging an entrance fee for all these newcomers,” Qin Luo joked from the podium.

Laughter erupted, and several students whipped out their phones to snap his picture.

Waving his hand, Qin Luo continued, “I know, due to recent events, I’ve become a hot topic on campus. But as a teacher, I have a responsibility to my students. So, if you’re just here for the spectacle, please come back after class. That way, I won’t feel like you’re interfering with my life.”

“Teacher Qin, are you really Ms. Lin Huanxi’s boyfriend? The guy in those forum photos looks a lot like you,” a female voice called from the back.

Wang Jiujiu sat in the front row, looking calm but twisting her hands anxiously under the desk.

“No,” Qin Luo replied, shaking his head. “We’re just good friends.”

“Isn’t a good friend the same as a boyfriend?” someone challenged.

“A good friend is a good friend. A boyfriend is a boyfriend. As a man, if she were truly my woman, I’d have no fear admitting it publicly. Anything less would be irresponsible.”

A wave of applause broke out among the female students—Qin Luo’s words had struck a chord.

“Teacher Qin, you’re so handsome. I like you. Will you be my boyfriend?” a bold girl shouted.

Such remarks could be either a joke or a genuine confession. Women always have the advantage of switching roles freely—they can advance or retreat at will, never at a disadvantage.

“Ask me again when you’re older,” Qin Luo replied with a smile. He didn’t recognize this student—she was probably from another class, just here for the fun.

“I’m already quite grown up!” the girl protested.

The class burst into laughter, with some students teasing her about which part of her was “grown up.”

Qin Luo rapped the desk with the chalkboard eraser. “All right, that’s enough. Let’s start the lesson. This is your last chance—if you’re only here for the excitement, you can leave now. Once I begin, no one is allowed to wander in or out.”

He pointed to the aisle in the middle of the classroom. “After this, I’ll be the only one walking around.”

No one left, which meant the lesson was about to begin.

Qin Luo felt a little troubled. At this rate, would he need to switch to a larger lecture hall for the next class?

Since his “Diagnostics” class was the last two periods of the afternoon, once they were over, he could go straight to wait for Lin Huanxi to go home together.

Just as he left the classroom, Wang Jiujiu hurried after him.

“Teacher Qin!” she called from behind.

“Yes? What is it?” Qin Luo turned to her. This girl had a remarkable talent for Chinese medicine, nearly on par with his aunt, who was known as the “Living Herbal Compendium.” He could see she truly loved the subject.

“Teacher Qin, do you have time tonight?” Wang Jiujiu asked with a charming smile, her long lashes curving over her crescent eyes.

“Is your mother ill?” Qin Luo inquired.

Wang Jiujiu almost wanted to retort, “It’s your mother who’s ill!” But since he was her favorite teacher, she kept the words to herself.

“No, my mother’s in great health,” she replied, a little exasperated.

“Then what is it?” Qin Luo was puzzled. Last time, when she’d asked for his number, she’d claimed her mother had some sort of gynecological problem. Now, asking if he was free, his first thought was that her mother had fallen ill again.

“It’s like this: today is Xiaohua’s birthday. She’s booked a private room at a KTV and invited all our classmates to celebrate. We’d like to invite you as well,” she explained. Every college student knows—inviting a teacher to a birthday party is the highest compliment.

Although Qin Luo had only been teaching for a few days, he’d already won over his class with his unique methods and superb medical skills.

If anyone dared insult Qin Luo in front of his students, they’d probably start a fight on the spot.

“KTV is a place for singing, right?” Qin Luo asked.

“Yes,” Wang Jiujiu replied.

Qin Luo nodded. “You’re all students, and I’m the only teacher. Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

She squinted with a grin. “Teacher Qin isn’t someone who’s afraid of a little trouble, is he?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I like that. All right, I’ll come for a bit.”

“Yay! I’ll go tell everyone,” Wang Jiujiu exclaimed, rushing back to the classroom.

Soon, applause and excited cheers echoed from within.

Qin Luo glanced at his reflection on his phone screen, amused by his own charm. This could be a bad omen.

It’s all right to be handsome, but not so handsome that it attracts the attention of the central government.

After indulging in a moment of vanity, Qin Luo called Lin Huanxi to let her know he’d be attending a student’s birthday party and wouldn’t be able to accompany her home.