Chapter 126: Medical Cases

After breakfast, the stand-in boss of the studio, Wuyong, went off to work, while the actual boss, Qin Qing, stayed behind at the temple to slack off.

Xinghe and Xing Cai took her to the fields to pick mulberries.

Freshly picked mulberries tasted completely different from the ones sold in fruit stores.

The store-bought ones were larger, uniformly black, but their flavor was bland—barely sweet or tart—and they didn’t store well either.

The ones on the tree varied in size and color, some red, some black.

No one fussed over how to eat them. A scoop of mountain spring water was enough to rinse the freshly picked berries before tossing them straight into the mouth. The burst of sweet, juicy flavor exploded right on the tongue…

Nothing particularly fancy, just the pure taste of the fruit itself.

Mumu, who had wandered in from who-knows-where, showed up too.

It was even less picky. It simply followed the group around, plopped itself down under the mulberry tree, and opened its mouth wide, waiting for someone to toss berries directly in.

Before long, Mumu’s whole mouth was stained black, looking like it had been poisoned.

It didn’t notice at all. When it saw people laughing at it, it grinned right back.

As the sun climbed higher, Qin Qing carried a small basket of mulberries over to the Free Clinic to find Daoist Wuwang.

The Daoist Master was a true cultivator, not someone like her who was always chasing snacks.

He was writing prescriptions at his desk and only ate one berry out of politeness.

He commented, “Dried, these can be used in medicine. They help regulate the liver and kidney meridians.”

The line at the clinic was longer than ever. Judging by their accents, many had come from out of town, a clear sign that the clinic’s reputation was growing.

Qin Qing didn’t understand medicine, so she wandered around the temple, knocking on things and inspecting them. Daoist Wuwang found her a nuisance.

After finishing the prescription he was working on, he handed over the clinic duties to his two disciples and waved Qin Qing away.

They found a quiet room and went over the backlog of medical cases. Wuwang had made it sound like a mountain of work, but in truth, there were fewer than twenty cases.

Daoist medicine formed its own independent system. Though Daoist Wuwang had a temper, his skills were among the best.

Diseases that modern medicine couldn’t cure weren’t necessarily beyond his reach.

And among those he couldn’t help, very few had accumulated enough merit to qualify for Qin Qing’s special treatment.

At first glance, these patients didn’t seem to have anything wrong with them.

All came from families known for their good deeds.

Some were already waiting on the mountain. Qin Qing checked the System Panel remotely and had Daoist Wuwang arrange their treatment schedules.

Qin Qing made the most of her time, working eight hours a day, treating one patient per hour.

In two and a half days, they cleared the entire queue.

The last patient was an elderly man who had traveled from another city.

Wuwang laid out the case file. “This one has lung cancer. He knows Cheng Ling, the one you cured before. Cheng Ling was the one who told him to come here. But I asked—Cheng Ling didn’t say much else.”

Qin Qing looked over the file. “Huang Youchang, 65 years old, runs a pharmaceutical company?”

“Yes, a major factory up north. It was founded by his grandfather and expanded over two generations. You could say he’s benefiting from ancestral merit. After all, making medicine and saving lives is a good deed. He has enough merit. I tested him with the bead you left behind. It lit up.”

“Alright.” Qin Qing closed the file. “Schedule him in.”

Wuwang called for Xinghe. “When is the patient, Huang Youchang, arriving?”

Xinghe, sucking on a lollipop, flipped through his pocket notebook. “His grandson told me they’re flying in this afternoon. Should land tonight.”

Qin Qing said, “Then we’ll meet tomorrow morning.”

The next day, Qin Qing dressed as a Daoist novice and went with Xinghe to meet Huang Youchang alongside Daoist Wuwang.

Huang Youchang didn’t look his age—he appeared to be in his late forties at most. He spoke with calm warmth and impeccable manners.

He was in a wheelchair, pushed by his teenage grandson.

Upon seeing him, Daoist Wuwang was slightly startled. “What happened to your leg?”

Huang Youchang replied, “Daoist Master, please don’t laugh. There’s nothing wrong with my legs. It’s just that ever since I got sick, I get short of breath when walking. So I figured I’d just use a wheelchair.”

Then, with a hint of urgency, he added, “I heard from little Master Xinghe that you have another method. I came here especially for that. Daoist Master, your healing hands are renowned. Please accept my gratitude in advance.”

Daoist Wuwang remained reserved, not making any promises.

“This method doesn’t work for everyone. It’s just something to try.”

Huang Youchang quickly said, “Having a method and a sliver of hope is already a blessing. Since falling ill, I’ve tried every kind of treatment, both domestic and abroad. I’ve suffered through it all, but nothing has helped.”

Wuwang stroked his beard, about to speak again.

Qin Qing poured a cup of tea and placed it before him.

On the other side, Xinghe served tea to the Huang family as well.

Wuwang didn’t look at Qin Qing. He took a sip of tea, then pulled out a pulse pillow.

“Whether this method can be used depends on your condition. Let’s take your pulse first.”

He checked both wrists. Ten minutes later, Wuwang sighed with regret.

“Sorry to have you come all this way. This method isn’t suitable for you.”

Huang Youchang didn’t react with disappointment. His expression didn’t change at all.

“Daoist Master, please don’t say that. Life and death are up to fate.”

He added, “I’ve always felt a connection to Taoist temples. I also have a deep appreciation for the vast and profound Daoist culture. To be honest, I’ve worked my whole life and only managed to save a modest fortune. I’d like to make a donation to the temple.”

Wuwang said, “It’s not about donations…”

Huang Youchang raised a hand. “Daoist Master, you misunderstand. This is just my way of showing sincerity. Consider it a way to earn merit for the younger generation in my family. It’s just that, in my current condition, I can’t handle long-distance travel in a short time. Would it be possible for me to stay on the mountain for a couple of days to rest?”

Wuwang hesitated, then reluctantly instructed Xinghe to prepare a room for them.

To avoid raising suspicion, Qin Qing and Xinghe escorted the grandfather and grandson out together.

On the way, Huang Youchang’s grandson softly called out, “Grandpa…”

Huang Youchang patted the boy’s hand.

“Don’t overthink it. Since we’re already in the mountains, just treat it as a little getaway.”

He seemed genuinely curious about everything in the Taoist Temple, taking in the scenery with quiet enjoyment.

At one moment, he stopped to watch birds nesting in the trees. At another, he sighed while gazing at the last few loquats clinging to the top branches.

They walked and paused, looked here and asked there.

Xinghe arranged for the grandfather and grandson to stay in one of the rooms behind the Monk’s Quarters, a space Wuyong had recently converted into a sort of “guesthouse.”

The conditions there were much better than the simple Monk’s Quarters.

The room was fully furnished and didn’t require any tidying up from Xinghe.

All she had to do was bring them over.

“Thank you both for your trouble.”

As they were leaving, Huang Youchang wheeled himself to the door to see them off.

He turned to Qin Qing. “I don’t recall seeing this Little Daoist Master during my last two visits?”

Qin Qing smiled. “There are hundreds of resident Daoist Masters, volunteers, and pilgrims on the mountain. It’s perfectly normal that you haven’t seen all the faces.”

“I see. Baiyun Temple is clearly thriving. Forgive my presumptuousness.”

Qin Qing turned and returned to her meditation room.

Daoist Wuwang was still waiting there.

He poured her a cup of hot tea. “You don’t look well.”

Qin Qing tilted her head back and drained the tea in one gulp, even chewing up the tea leaves.

Setting the cup down on the table with a clack, she said to Wuwang, enunciating each word, “We. Cannot. Save. This man.”

Wuwang nodded. “The moment you signaled me, I knew something had changed. But judging by his demeanor, he’s not going to give up easily.”

Qin Qing was still fuming. “Let him donate incense money all he wants. Let him stay on this mountain till the end of time. We still won’t save him.”

“Not enough merit?”

Qin Qing replied, “He has more than enough merit, but the sins he’s committed far outweigh it. His virtue can’t offset his crimes. We won’t intervene. Heaven will deal with him.”

Daoist Wuwang didn’t press further. He simply let out a long sigh.

How could someone from a family that had run a pharmaceutical business for generations end up carrying such a heavy burden of sin?

If Qin Qing hadn’t read Huang Youchang’s journal, she would never have imagined the kinds of atrocities he had committed.

What kind of men his grandfather and father were was no longer traceable.

But once the pharmaceutical company passed into Huang Youchang’s hands, in order to expand production, he not only recruited a number of professionals in the medical field, but also sought out prescriptions from traditional medicine families. If he took a liking to a particular formula and the owner refused to hand it over… that family always seemed to suffer some misfortune not long after.

Huang Youchang amassed a collection of rare and precious prescriptions.

His pharmaceutical team would then “optimize” these formulas. But did that mean he improved them?

Yes—and no.

This beast in human skin had somehow come up with a vile theory: “A good medicine is not a good product.” He believed that only by ruining the formulas—formulas that embodied generations of medical wisdom—could he turn them into profitable commodities.

After his so-called “improvements,” the medicines his company produced all had the same effect: immediate results upon consumption, but symptoms would return as soon as the medicine was stopped.

He believed this was the only way to ensure repeat customers.

Qin Qing was so furious she trembled.

What disgusted her even more was that this man had once been a guest at the “Seventh Day” laboratory.

He had only paid a deposit and was still waiting his turn. Fortunately, the lab was destroyed before he had the chance to carry out any of his plans.

How could Qin Qing possibly save someone like that?