Chapter 12 Mastery in Mysterious Medicine

Yang Wei's face alternated between red and pale, sensing that the young man before him was not easily fooled. A youngster of his age would normally jump at the chance to help without a second thought.

Yang Wei simply said, "Brother, here's the situation, do you remember the middle-aged man who collapsed on the ground that day? That person is our Forestry Bureau's Director Song. After being sent to the hospital, he has been unconscious, and this morning, the hospital issued a critical condition notice. It looks like he only has a couple of days left…"

Upon hearing Yang Wei's words, Zhao Yang felt a sudden twitch in his eyelid.

From what Zhao Yang had observed that day, the middle-aged man should have been in his early fifties, not in poor health, and seemed like he could be saved.

Seeing that Zhao Yang was expressionless, Yang Wei said, "Brother Zhao, I think your medical skills must be quite good. Could you please do us a favor and take a look? Director Song has been very good to me; you could say he pulled me up with his own hands. Now that he's critically ill, my heart... Moreover, if the bureau leadership changes, it's likely my position as office director will also come to an end."

"What do you mean?" Zhao Yang felt there was more to the words and glanced at Yang Wei, not quite believing he was being threatened.

"Don't get me wrong, Brother Zhao," Yang Wei quickly explained, "the office director is always the bureau director's confidant. If the bureau director changes, of course, the office director will change to the new director's confidant. But even if I'm no longer the office director, the documents I've issued won't become void. A successor who has just taken office won't easily overturn the predecessor's decisions. As long as I'm in the Forestry Bureau, I'll ensure that document continues to be enforced. I just hope you can do this favor, isn't it said that saving lives and helping the injured is a doctor's duty? Please, help Director Song!"

"Okay, I can take a look for you, but why not transfer the patient to the city? The expertise in the county hospital is ultimately limited," Zhao Yang said.

"It was the chief surgeon from the city who operated," Yang Wei immediately replied.

"The chief surgeon from the city?" Zhao Yang wanted to say, 'Is that the level of competency we're dealing with in the city?' But on second thought, he let it go. Perhaps he had misjudged the situation, or the reality was worse than he had imagined.

Now, if he overpromised and then proved powerless, he would be slapping his own face.

"Alright, let's go now," Zhao Yang said.

"Thank you, brother!" Yang Wei expressed his gratitude.

Holding the bottle of Qiang Shen Jiu that Zhao Yang had given him, Yang Wei was reluctant to put it down. Noticing Zhao Yang's disdainful look, he hurriedly went to his desk, opened a cabinet, and carefully placed the little jar inside before locking it up.

His happiness for the second half of his life depended on it. Could he afford not to be careful?

Nowadays, his wife never showed him a pleasant face when he returned home, and Yang Wei really couldn't bear it.

But with this bottle of wine...

Yang Wei wasn't entirely convinced of Zhao Yang's abilities; it is said that good diagnosis does not necessarily mean good treatment. Many accomplished practitioners are accurate in their diagnoses, but effective treatment often eludes them. These were not uncommon occurrences around Yang Wei.

Yang Wei made a phone call, summoning the bureau director's car to the building, before heading downstairs with Zhao Yang.

Upon entering the car, the driver glanced through the rear-view mirror and felt somewhat displeased, thinking, 'Office Director Yang is really desperate, bringing such a young kid to treat the director.'

However, he could understand. If Director Song died, the hottest spot in the bureau, the office director's position currently held by Yang Wei, would likely have to be vacated soon!

They arrived at the Forestry Hospital, but unlike what Zhao Yang had anticipated, there weren't many people around the sickroom. Only a middle-aged woman around fifty sat tiredly beside the bed, peeling an apple and murmuring to herself.

She appeared to be Director Song's wife.

When people entered, Mrs. Song glanced up slightly, her eyes listless with confusion as she saw Yang Wei leading a young man inside.

A driver followed behind, saying, "Aunt Zhang, this is the young doctor Office Director Yang has brought to see Director Song."

"Yes, sister-in-law, this young man's surname is Zhao. I specially brought him over to check on Director Song," Yang Wei added.

Hearing the driver and Yang Wei, Mrs. Song's eyes became even more confused.

Such a young man, he seemed around her daughter's age, probably hadn't even graduated from university yet. With the city's specialists at a loss, what could he do?

"Hello ma'am," Zhao Yang said, noticing the woman's perplexity. He knew people would naturally be skeptical of his youth, which is a common human reaction.

After all, heroes are often young. His master had told him that before his retreat, he himself had been a world-renowned doctor who became famous at just twenty-seven years of age—though Zhao Yang wasn't sure if this was a bit of an exaggeration.

However, there was something else Zhao Yang believed wasn't an exaggeration: his master had said that Zhao Yang's future achievements would surpass his own.

The woman stood up to take a closer look at Zhao Yang and asked, "Can you really practice medicine?"

Before Zhao Yang could respond, Yang Wei already chimed in, "Of course he can, Brother Zhao is proficient in mystical medicine!"

At this, the driver behind them couldn't help but snicker.

Understanding Western medicine was one thing, but claiming to be skilled in mystical medicine...

Those old practitioners of mystical medicine, having practiced for decades, would never dare claim to be proficient, and here was this young fellow bragging about proficiency in mystical medicine!

Zhao Yang was unfazed and simply smiled, "Aunt, I've studied mystical medicine for a few days. I didn't really want to come; first, because I'm young and inexperienced, and second, people wouldn't believe me because of my appearance. But Office Director Yang insisted on my coming since Director Song is critically ill. I thought, if no one else can do it, then I may as well give it a try, right?"

With his words, Zhao Yang cleverly implied that since others had deemed the situation hopeless, he could attempt treatment without causing any harm. If it didn't work out, there was nothing lost, a last resort—besides, they were the ones who had asked him to come over.

The middle-aged woman, having seen a bit of the world, responded, "If Office Director Yang brought you, it must be for a reason. Please take a look at our family's Old Song. Just yesterday, the city's neurology specialist came over to perform surgery on Old Song, but then…"

She trailed off, on the verge of tears.

Director Song was only fifty-one this year. In the past, that may have seemed old, but nowadays, with life expectancy rising, fifty is still considered the prime of life.

Director Song had never had any severe health issues, and had been fine when he left home that morning. Unexpectedly, he suffered a stroke while walking and collapsed soon after.