Chapter Forty-Three: In the Depths of Despair

After finishing with the needles at Great Esteem, Between the Toes, and Five Miles on the Foot, Qin Luo packed up his needle kit and said, “Today is the last time.”

Lin Huanxi’s heart suddenly felt empty, as if something was slipping away.

“The last time?” Lin Huanxi asked uncertainly.

Even she didn’t realize she had grown addicted to this feeling. Every evening after dinner, she looked forward to this brief moment of warmth.

Even when, at times, not a word passed between them during the entire process, she still felt fulfilled beyond measure.

She didn’t believe it was love, nor did she think herself capable of such feeling anymore. Yet, she couldn’t quite identify what exactly this emotion was.

Indescribable, inexhaustible, and seemingly endless.

Qin Luo nodded and said, “When the body is too weak, it can’t take more supplementation. If I continue with the treatment, it will actually sap your vital energy. That would do more harm than good.”

“Alright. You’re the doctor, you have the final say.” Lin Huanxi nodded, pulling her skirt to cover her thigh and added, “Would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

“Yes, please.” Qin Luo nodded. Having helped Lin Qingyuan resolve a major worry, he was in high spirits.

Moreover, exposing Ma Youtai and bringing him to justice was largely thanks to his own efforts. Had he not ventured into the lion’s den or shamelessly asked Wang Jiujui for help, the police would never have tracked down the fugitive.

But no one knew about any of this, which left him feeling stifled. Doing good without recognition is like a woman dressing beautifully in the dark—no approval from peers or admiration from the opposite sex. It really is a frustrating thing.

Now, Qin Luo understood the enormous gap between himself and Comrade Lei Feng. The man endured decades of lonely, thankless service; Qin Luo, in contrast, couldn’t last even a few days.

The balcony off Lin Huanxi’s bedroom had become their usual spot for tea: the moon bright, the sky high, a cool breeze, warm water, fragrant tea, and a beautiful companion—such a life was truly bliss.

In the past, Qin Luo had often drunk tea, but his companion had always been an unappreciative old man whose sudden, eccentric questions would throw him into confusion. Each tea session was tasteless and fraught.

By comparison, his life now was nothing short of paradise.

Southerners usually drink kung fu tea; northerners prefer large bowls of tea. Perhaps to accommodate Qin Luo, a southerner, Lin Huanxi had chosen porcelain from Jingdezhen—sky blue after the rain—and her skill at preparing kung fu tea had become more and more refined.

“Grandfather’s gone on his hospital rounds,” Lin Huanxi said.

“Yes. It’s good for him to stay active. Suddenly leaving the place he’s worked at for decades would be hard for anyone,” Qin Luo explained with a smile.

He could understand Lin Qingyuan’s feelings. Initially, he had been forced out, cut off from the hospital, and to think of passing the directorship to Ma Youtai was unbearable.

It was easy to imagine the turmoil in the old man’s heart.

But after our very own Spider-Man, Qin Luo, stepped in, everything turned around: Ma Youtai was taken away by the police, and the old man was reinstated as director. The crowd of troublemakers in the hospital had been silenced with a single blow.

“If I were Grandpa Lin, I’d wander around my former rivals, those who mocked my departure, just to make my presence known,” Qin Luo thought privately.

If others make your life difficult, don’t let them live comfortably either.

“Thank you,” Lin Huanxi whispered, placing a cup of tea in front of Qin Luo with tweezers.

“What are you thanking me for? I didn’t do anything,” Qin Luo replied with a wave and a smile.

Lin Huanxi looked at him, her beautiful eyes shimmering, perhaps from the backlight. “Maybe Grandpa will believe the police’s story about accidentally uncovering the underground factory. But I don’t.”

“Why did nothing happen before, and suddenly, just as you started paying attention, things changed? With Wang Hao’s vast network, how did the police manage to solve the case without any interference? Why were they so focused on the connection between Wang Hao and Ma Youtai, and why did they make it a priority?”

“What are you getting at?” Qin Luo looked at her in surprise. People say women with large chests have no brains, but clearly, that’s not always true.

“You were orchestrating things behind the scenes,” Lin Huanxi said.

“Haha, how could I? I don’t have that kind of influence,” Qin Luo replied modestly, but his expression betrayed him—he looked exactly as if to say, “You’re right, it was me.”

“I also know you have a student who’s the daughter of a military district commander.” Lin Huanxi’s lips curled into a faint smile.

Qin Luo’s grin nearly split his face—a rare feeling of being truly understood.

“Oh, so you know? Haha, I thought no one did. Actually, I just thought I’d give it a try and ask Wang Jiujui for help, and unexpectedly, she agreed. The police were so efficient! They got everything sorted out in a day… By the way, don’t tell Grandpa Lin about this. I don’t want too many people to know.”

Though he said this, inside Qin Luo wished the whole world would know.

A child who’s done a good deed always hopes for praise and a reward from his mother. Qin Luo had always regarded Lin Huanxi as a mother—no, as an elder sister (even an alluring one). Now, with her recognition, he felt an immense sense of accomplishment.

They talked late into the night. Only when fatigue began to show on Lin Huanxi’s face did Qin Luo finally rise to take his leave.

“Oh, there’s something I want to give you,” Lin Huanxi said, standing up.

“What is it?” Qin Luo asked.

“A computer.” She brought over a case. “I need one for my work, so I got you one as well. If you’re going to be out in the world, you need to learn how to use it.”

“I’ll definitely learn,” Qin Luo replied cheerfully, accepting it. “Thank you, Sister Lin.”

“Go get some rest,” Lin Huanxi said, caught off guard by his calling her “Sister Lin.”

“He’s just a young man, and I’m older than he is,” Lin Huanxi suddenly found herself thinking about age—a subject she’d neglected for years.

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

Qin Luo’s teaching methods were unusual. He never used textbooks, preferring instead to pass on the curriculum as he himself had learned it.

A single book holds at most a few hundred thousand words—how much can you really learn from that? It only covers the basics. To truly become a competent doctor, the textbooks are far from sufficient.

Qin Luo had made a promise: every student who stayed until graduation would become an excellent doctor. He was doing his utmost to keep that promise.

“I know the Formula Song is hard to memorize. It took me several days to learn it myself. But that’s no excuse for laziness. If I asked you to memorize the entire Chinese Herbal Compendium, what would you do?”

“I know some of you probably think this method is a bit foolish, but if you can’t even master the basics, how can you apply what you learn in real life? True mastery is being able to adapt your knowledge of herbs and formulas according to the patient’s condition. Next class, I want everyone to be able to recite the Formula Song fluently. That’s all for today.”

As soon as Qin Luo stepped out of the classroom, a chorus of groans and sighs rose from within.

He couldn’t help but smile. When his grandfather had made him memorize the song, he’d worn the same expression as his students.

But in the end, he’d learned it. And because he’d learned it by heart, he came to understand its endless usefulness.

Qin Luo’s teaching style was flexible and adaptive, but that did not mean he couldn’t be strict.

Just as he was about to contact Lin Huanxi, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was a message from Lin Huanxi: I’m waiting for you outside.

“Okay, I’m on my way,” Qin Luo replied.

He’d learned to type now, and his speed wasn’t too bad—about five or six characters a minute.

Qin Luo hurried toward the school gate. He knew if he was late, Lin Huanxi would soon become the center of attention for the gathered students. With her cool and reserved nature, she would surely dislike being watched.

Sometimes, Qin Luo found it odd—if she disliked something, why insist on doing it? He’d told her before that if she arrived early, she could go home first rather than wait for him, but she refused.

As he reached the school gate, a soft, alluring voice called out, “Qin Luo.”

He turned to see Li Qingcheng smiling brightly at him.

“Miss Li, is there something you need?” Qin Luo asked, his gaze drifting toward Lin Huanxi’s BMW, worried she might see him with Li Qingcheng.

“Can’t I look for you even if there’s nothing? I missed you,” Li Qingcheng said playfully, taking two steps closer and reaching out to hook his arm.

“Miss Li, it’s improper for men and women to touch in public—others will see us…” Qin Luo dodged in nervous embarrassment, making Li Qingcheng laugh melodiously.

“Qin Luo, you’re getting more adorable by the day. Come on, have dinner with me. Your sister Sixuan is treating—you can’t say you’re busy!” Li Qingcheng joked, loving how easily Qin Luo blushed, like a bashful schoolboy.

Of course, Qin Luo really was still a virgin. Not that such things were easy to prove.

“He’s actually not free,” a cold voice answered for Qin Luo. As they spoke, Lin Huanxi had gotten out of her car and approached.

Li Qingcheng’s gaze had been fixed on Qin Luo. Now she noticed Lin Huanxi coming over and gave her a surprised look, glancing from Qin Luo to this “Ice Beauty” who was her equal in school reputation. A sudden surge of rivalry rose within her.

“And who are you to him?”

“Family.”

“So what? How do you know he’s not free?” Li Qingcheng raised an eyebrow.

“Because he promised to have dinner with me,” Lin Huanxi replied.

“Too bad, he just promised me the same thing,” Li Qingcheng said.

“Do you have proof?” Lin Huanxi asked.

“—Does everyone have to record every conversation?” Li Qingcheng retorted.

“I do.” Lin Huanxi pulled out her phone and showed Li Qingcheng the message Qin Luo had just sent.