"Young man, it's best not to speak too confidently." Wei Gongxun frowned slightly, clearly displeased.
"Alright, since my brother-in-law has spoken, let this Dr. He stay and observe. It should be a valuable learning opportunity for him."
Zheng Shifan, seeing his brother-in-law's displeasure, didn't press further and quickly smoothed things over.
Lin Yu shook his head with a bitter smile. He had only heard of Ji Shi Tang's reputation for miraculous healing and benevolence but hadn't known about their arrogance. Today, he got a firsthand lesson.
After a short wait, Zheng Jiacheng emerged from the inner room. Dressed in a white silk Tang suit, he walked steadily, his white hair contrasting with his youthful complexion. He looked full of vitality, not at all like someone suffering from illness.
"Gongxun, you're here too. Sit, please."
Zheng Jiacheng's tone was casual, but the commanding presence of someone long accustomed to authority naturally emanated from him.
"Which one of you is the grandson of Old Master Song from Ji Shi Tang?"
After everyone was seated, Zheng Jiacheng glanced between Lin Yu and Song Zheng, his hands continuously rolling a pair of dark-red antique walnuts.
"Old Master Zheng, hello. I'm Song Zheng from Ji Shi Tang. My grandfather sent me to treat you. Before I left, he told me that although you're offering ten million for the treatment, Ji Shi Tang will give you a 20% discount."
Song Zheng smiled, his expression full of pride. Two million yuan, just waived like that—Ji Shi Tang was indeed generous.
"Good, truly heroes emerge from the young. Since Old Master Song sent you, you must have exceptional skills. Don't worry, if you can cure me, the money will be paid in full."
Zheng Jiacheng laughed heartily. To him, this amount was trivial.
"Dad, I've also invited a doctor for you—a young miracle healer with extraordinary medical skills." Wei Gongxun quickly introduced Lin Yu.
"Excellent. The new generation surpasses the old. It's the era of the youth now. Then I'll trouble both young friends later." Zheng Jiacheng smiled and instructed the butler to serve tea.
"Old Master Zheng, aren't we starting the treatment now?" Song Zheng asked, puzzled, seeing that Zheng Jiacheng showed no intention of beginning.
"Haha, if we start now, we might not find anything wrong." Zheng Jiacheng smiled helplessly. "In the past, doctors examined me and found everything normal, with no signs of illness. Only when the headache strikes can the symptoms be observed."
"Oh? That strange?" Song Zheng frowned and stepped forward to check Zheng Jiacheng's pulse.
Zheng Jiacheng didn't refuse, extending his wrist. Song Zheng's expression changed immediately—the pulse was perfectly normal, indicating robust health.
"Brother Song, no need to rush. Wait another hour, and Old Master Zheng's condition should manifest." Lin Yu glanced at the wall clock.
"Oh? Young friend, how do you know it'll happen in an hour?" Zheng Jiacheng looked surprised.
"Director Wei mentioned your migraines. In another hour, it'll be noon. The rising temperature will increase internal heat, causing qi and blood to rush to the head, triggering the migraine." Lin Yu explained with a smile, his eyes briefly flickering to the walnuts in Zheng Jiacheng's hands.
Zheng Jiacheng nodded approvingly at Lin Yu, while Song Zheng snorted, displeased.
As Lin Yu predicted, as noon approached, Zheng Jiacheng's expression suddenly twisted in pain. He clutched his head, sweat pouring down his face like raindrops.
"Old Master Zheng, hold on. I'll apply the needles now."
Song Zheng checked Zheng Jiacheng's pulse again, then took out a needle case from his medical bag. He swiftly inserted needles into the Qinglengyuan and Tianjing acupoints on Zheng Jiacheng's elbow, following with needles on the head and shoulders.
"Suo Shen Needles?" Lin Yu murmured in surprise. No wonder Song Zheng was so arrogant—he did have real skill.
Hearing Lin Yu name his technique, Song Zheng was taken aback but smirked proudly. "Not bad. You have some knowledge."
After Song Zheng finished the acupuncture, Zheng Jiacheng's pain visibly lessened.
"Haha, Ji Shi Tang truly lives up to its reputation!"
Seeing his father's relief, Zheng Shifan sighed in relief.
"A trivial matter." Song Zheng smiled modestly.
But before his words faded, Zheng Jiacheng suddenly convulsed, clutching his head again with a low groan—worse than before.
The room erupted in alarm. Song Zheng froze, muttering, "Impossible!"
He hurriedly checked Zheng Jiacheng's pulse, his face turning pale. The pulse was erratic, sometimes strong, sometimes vanishing—utterly bizarre.
"Brother Song, stop dawdling! Do something!" Zheng Shifan urged.
Song Zheng, now flustered, had no idea what to do.
Seeing the crisis, Lin Yu darted forward, swiftly removing the needles from Zheng Jiacheng. Then he took six new needles and inserted them into six acupoints on Zheng Jiacheng's neck and shoulders.
"Wen Ming Needle Technique?"
Song Zheng's jaw dropped.
"Not bad. You have some knowledge." Lin Yu echoed Song Zheng's earlier words without expression.
As the needles took effect, Zheng Jiacheng relaxed instantly. The headache vanished, and his complexion regained color.
"Dad, how do you feel?" Wei Gongxun asked, overjoyed. It seemed this He Jiarong was truly extraordinary.
"Much better."
Zheng Jiacheng managed a weak smile, his breathing steadying. The butler hurriedly wiped the sweat from his face.
Zheng Shifan, cautious, waited to ensure no relapse occurred. After a while, seeing his father stable, he finally relaxed.
"Little brother, has my father's condition been alleviated or cured?" he asked Lin Yu.
"Alleviated."
"Can it be cured?"
Song Zheng's face cycled through shades of green and white. Clearly, he'd lost Zheng Shifan's trust. Having failed, he no longer had a say.
"Yes, and it's simple." Lin Yu smiled, then turned his gaze to the walnuts in Zheng Jiacheng's hands. "The main issue lies with these walnuts."
"The problem is with these walnuts?" The crowd exchanged bewildered glances.
"Old Master Zheng, may I examine them?"
Lin Yu took the walnuts and inspected them closely. To his eyes, they emitted a vibrant green glow, indicating their immense value. But in the seam of one walnut, a thick black energy lurked—similar to what he'd seen in the little girl earlier.
"If I'm not mistaken, these are Qilin-patterned lion-head walnuts, dating back to the Qianlong era."
"Excellent eye, young friend!" Zheng Jiacheng's face lit up with surprise. Few could identify his walnuts' origins at a glance.
"But no matter how extraordinary, they're just antiques. What does that have to do with my father's headaches? Brother He, you must be joking." Wei Gongxun was skeptical.
Lin Yu didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked Zheng Jiacheng, "Old Master Zheng, where did you acquire these walnuts? How long have you carried them?"
"I bought them at an antique market half a year ago and have kept them with me since."
"Then think back—how long have you had these migraines?"
Zheng Jiacheng frowned, then his expression shifted. Staring at the walnuts, he gasped, "It started around the time I bought them!"
Being a skeptic, Zheng Jiacheng had never considered supernatural causes, attributing his pain to work stress.
"To be frank, these walnuts came from a deceased person, carrying residual negative energy. Since you kept them close, they affected your fortune. I suspect your business hasn't fared well these past six months either."
"True. Two projects I invested in suffered heavy losses. I thought age was dulling my mind and was about to hand the company to Shifan." Zheng Jiacheng sighed.
"Brother He, this talk of 'negative energy' sounds like superstition..." Wei Gongxun frowned. In his line of work, he dismissed such notions.
"Not all of it is superstition. Some principles stem from our ancestors' observations of nature's laws. Why else would the I Ching endure for millennia?" Lin Yu patiently explained.
Wei Gongxun had no rebuttal. Lin Yu made a fair point—many universities now offered courses on the I Ching.
"Little brother, if we destroy these walnuts, will my father recover?" Zheng Shifan asked urgently.
"Such fine artifacts—what a waste to destroy them." Lin Yu smiled. "I can cure Old Master Zheng while preserving his treasures."
"Then I'll trouble you, young friend." Zheng Jiacheng couldn't hide his excitement. He cherished these walnuts—destroying them would pain him for days.
"Old Master Zheng, do you have a cinnabar brush?"
"Yes, of course." Zheng Jiacheng instructed the butler to fetch one.
When the brush arrived, Lin Yu murmured an incantation, exhaled onto the tip, and lightly dabbed the end of each walnut. The black energy dissipated instantly, leaving the walnuts' green aura purer and brighter.
Returning them to Zheng Jiacheng, the old man felt a cool sensation spread through his body, his meridians opening as if refreshed.
Song Zheng, sullen and unconvinced, thought Lin Yu was bluffing. But with Zheng Jiacheng cured, he had no grounds to object.
"Little brother, will my father's condition truly not recur?" Zheng Shifan remained wary.
"Truly. If any issues arise, Director Wei knows where to find me." Lin Yu joked.
"Brother He, you jest. Our family is indebted to you." Wei Gongxun laughed, then signaled Zheng Shifan.
Taking the hint, Zheng Shifan said, "Brother He, please share your bank details. I'll transfer five million first. If my father remains well in a few days, the remaining five million will follow."
"Shifan!" Zheng Jiacheng chided. "Transfer the full ten million at once."
"Understood. Ten million, in one go."
"Ten million?" Lin Yu rubbed his nose, smiling. "May I set the fee?"
The room tensed. Was ten million not enough? Was he about to extort them?
"Very well. Name your price, young friend." Zheng Jiacheng remained composed. Having saved half his life, a higher fee was reasonable.