Chapter Forty-Four: A Duel of Beauties

Li Qingcheng truly had no idea what connection Qin Luo and Lin Wanxi might have had before. How could a cute boy she had accidentally bumped into possibly have any dealings with the “Ice Queen” of their school? Besides, just as her own notorious reputation preceded her, Lin Wanxi’s peculiarities were widely discussed among students. Some claimed she was frigid, others whispered she preferred women; Li Qingcheng herself had witnessed Lin Wanxi’s attitude toward men.

After a banquet following a medical seminar within the education system, a teacher from another department had exchanged a few words with Lin Wanxi, and her irritation was impossible to conceal. While the man continued his rambling, she simply turned and walked away, leaving him standing awkwardly with his plate.

As for the rumors swirling through campus regarding Lin Wanxi’s supposed affair with Qin Luo, Li Qingcheng had never heard a word. Her unconventional personality meant she had no friends at school—no one would tell her such things, nor would she care to ask. She lived entirely for herself, unbothered by how others viewed her.

Yet, Li Qingcheng could sense that Lin Wanxi’s nervousness about Qin Luo was genuine. For someone so proud, she would never confront a woman of notorious reputation like herself unless she truly cared about the boy. In fact, when they had met in the past, they hadn’t even bothered with greetings.

“So they say that Teacher Lin keeps herself pure and distant from all men—seems the rumors aren’t quite true, are they?” Lin Wanxi hadn’t expected the other to produce evidence so readily; finding herself inexplicably bested, she sought another angle for attack.

“I’ve heard that Teacher Li changes men faster than she changes clothes, with an eclectic taste—so the rumors must be true,” Lin Wanxi retorted without hesitation.

“Too kind, really. But I do admit, I’ve fallen for Qin Luo,” Li Qingcheng said, looking at Qin Luo and laughing.

“No need for modesty. Still, I have no obligation to yield him to you,” Lin Wanxi replied coolly.

“Oh? That means Qin Luo is in for a blessing. I have no intention of letting go,” Li Qingcheng said.

“You’re late,” Lin Wanxi countered.

“The outcome isn’t decided; who can say who’s early or late?” Li Qingcheng argued.

“But the timing is clear—what’s left to decide?” Lin Wanxi replied.

One smiled like a blooming flower; the other was cold as a winter pond. A heated clash unfolded between two women of opposite temperaments, their words sharp as blades, neither willing to yield.

Qin Luo, the subject of their verbal duel, could only stand aside, unable to interject. Listening to them, he felt as if the air alternated between freezing and sweltering, as if he were living in a furnace and a glacier at once.

“Um... how about lunch? My treat. Shall we go eat?” Qin Luo finally summoned the courage to interrupt, speaking up.

“No need,” both women replied in perfect unison.

Qin Luo managed an awkward smile, marveling at their rare display of agreement.

“Little Qin Luo, your sister will be off now. I’ll find you later—don’t forget our promise,” Li Qingcheng said, winking flirtatiously at him as she laughed.

With that, she hailed a taxi and vanished.

Faced with Lin Wanxi’s suspicious expression, Qin Luo tried to explain, embarrassed, “There’s no real promise, just—”

“Your affairs don’t concern me,” Lin Wanxi said, turning toward her BMW.

Qin Luo hesitated, then hurried after her. The pair walked in silence; Lin Wanxi’s face was stern, and Qin Luo had no idea what to say. The more he tried to explain, the worse it seemed, so he simply gave up.

When they returned to the villa, voices could be heard from the living room—apparently, there were guests.

Entering, they found three men looking their way: two elderly gentlemen, Lin Qingyuan and Old Wang, and a third, a handsome young man with an arrogant demeanor whom Qin Luo did not recognize.

Lin Qingyuan smiled, “You’re back. We have guests.”

Old Wang stood, walked up to Qin Luo, and said, “Yangxin, this is Qin Luo, inheritor of the Taiyi Divine Needles I told you about. You’re both outstanding figures in the field of traditional medicine; you should get to know each other.”

Wang Yangxin, captivated by Lin Wanxi’s beauty, had his gaze fixed on the cold goddess standing beside Qin Luo. Only after Old Wang spoke did he turn his attention to Qin Luo, and upon seeing his youthful face, his expression immediately grew dismissive. Smiling, he said, “Is Old Wang really not fooling me? Is he truly the inheritor of the Taiyi Divine Needles?”

He was about Qin Luo’s age, but addressed Old Wang as “Old Wang,” indicating they were peers and that he held some standing in the field.

“Why would I lie? I’ve seen him use the Taiyi Divine Needles’ Fire of the Burning Mountain firsthand. Many can attest to it—Lin was there that day too,” Old Wang chuckled.

Wang Yangxin finally stood, scrutinized Qin Luo from head to toe, and extended his hand. “Wang Yangxin.”

“Qin Luo,” Qin Luo said, shaking his hand. He disliked this man.

Whenever he sized someone up, he did so with an air of superiority, as if everyone else were his servants. Such arrogance grated on Qin Luo, who was equally proud.

“You know the Taiyi Divine Needles?”

“I know a bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you believe it, it exists; if you don’t, it doesn’t,” Qin Luo shrugged indifferently. What does it matter to you whether I know it?

“Would you demonstrate it?” Wang Yangxin said, the corners of his mouth curling upward in a mocking smile.

“Demonstrate?” Qin Luo looked at him as if he were a fool. “Why should I?”

“Can’t you? Or don’t you know how? The Taiyi Divine Needles are a legendary technique, lost for a century with no successor. The truth is plain to see,” Wang Yangxin replied, thinking Qin Luo was refusing because he lacked confidence in his skills.

“No, I think you’re missing the point,” Qin Luo said, waving him off. “How is it any of your business whether or not I know the Taiyi Divine Needles? Believe it or not, it doesn’t affect me either way. Besides, the Taiyi Divine Needles depend on the practitioner’s qi. Why on earth would I perform for someone irrelevant like you?”

Qin Luo had the least patience for this type—those who believed that having a couple of tricks up their sleeve made them kings of the world. They rarely acted, often refusing to help even in emergencies, hoarding their skills as treasures not to be shared, sometimes not even passing them on to their own children if they weren’t sons.

Yet, when it came to contests, their competitive streak emerged, determined to win at all costs as if their heroism depended on it.

The energy spent on demonstrations would be better used saving patients at the hospital, earning some merit.

Demonstrate? Why should I bother?

“What’s wrong with you? Such a lack of manners. Exchange between peers is common—how can you twist it into—”

“What? I just don’t want to perform. Simple as that. Anything else you’d like to say?” Qin Luo replied with a cold smile.

“Ungrateful. Seems you’re nothing but an empty name, a fraud,” Wang Yangxin sneered, flicking his sleeve.

Old Wang had thought the two might appreciate each other’s talents, but instead they clashed immediately. He hurried to mediate, “Qin Luo, Yangxin, please don’t be angry. Traditional medicine is already weak—we ought to stick together. Seeing you two quarrel right away worries us elders.”

“Yes, Qin Luo, young people are quick-tempered; try to calm yourselves. I hoped you’d become friends,” Lin Qingyuan added, rising to speak.

“Old Wang, it’s not that I don’t respect you. You praised his medical skills and the Taiyi Divine Needles, so I came to see for myself. Now, it seems he is nothing special. Our Needle King family’s techniques aren’t easily surpassed. There’s no need to see this fake Taiyi Divine Needles. I’ll be leaving,” Wang Yangxin said, about to walk out.

“Wait,” Qin Luo called.

“What now? Want to prove you’re not a fraud?” Wang Yangxin turned, mocking.

“What’s this Needle King family?” Qin Luo asked.

“You haven’t even heard of the Needle King family and claim to study traditional medicine?” Wang Yangxin scoffed.

“I’ve heard of the eight major schools of traditional medicine, but never the Needle King family. Come, I’ll give you a chance—brag all you like,” Qin Luo said, smiling.

“You—our Needle King reputation needs no bragging!” Wang Yangxin shouted, furious.

Old Wang quickly interjected, “Yangxin’s grandfather is the esteemed Needle King Wang Xiushen. Xiushen was a Manchu from Beijing, third-generation court physician, began studying medicine at eight, assisting diagnoses at fourteen, training rigorously, practicing on himself, mastering secret traditional techniques, and establishing a unique style.”

“Xiushen was renowned for his skill, ethics, and wisdom, curing countless patients. So, the last emperor Puyi’s brother Pujie inscribed three characters, ‘Divine Needle King,’ for him. This honor was well deserved and widely respected. I admire him greatly.”

Qin Luo nodded, “To earn the respect of peers is rare—if so, Xiushen’s needlework must be extraordinary.”

With Old Wang’s introduction and Qin Luo’s praise, Wang Yangxin’s pride grew even more pronounced. “Naturally. Fame may be fleeting, but truth endures. Eventually, pretenders will be exposed.”

“But I wonder,” Qin Luo said, looking at Wang Yangxin, “with such a remarkable grandfather, what have you learned? With your attitude, you tarnish the Needle King’s name.”

“Some people just talk big. Whether I disgrace the Needle King, my peers will judge. But you—what have you learned? Not even the courage to show your skills. You dare discuss the path of medicine?”

“My medical skills are for saving lives, not for performing,” Qin Luo replied with a smile. “And the reason I won’t show you is simply because you are unworthy. Not worthy to watch, nor to be my opponent.”

Qin Luo glanced at the now livid Wang Yangxin and said, “When I have time, I’ll visit you in person. Your grandfather Wang Xiushen—that is the one I intend to challenge.”

“You—”

“Ah, after all this talk, I’m starving. Grandpa Lin, is dinner ready?” Qin Luo, tired of arguing, patted his stomach and headed toward the dining room.