Chapter 56

Qian Jianing, having obtained the Life Extension Talisman, had been in great spirits these past few days. Even though Treasure Bowl was avoiding her to escape giving her gifts, it didn’t dampen her mood. Now that she had more money on hand, she spent time scouting out prime real estate in the future world in addition to managing her restaurant, hoping to buy a suitable property.

Before she knew it, it was time for Old Master Dong’s next treatment. After breakfast, Qian Jianing placed an order on Xiantao.com for suitable ingredients and then stewed a medicinal dish for the old man.

The Dong family driver arrived ten minutes early and parked the car just outside the alley. At exactly 2:00 PM, he stepped out and headed to the door, only to see Qian Jianing carefully carrying a clay pot out before he could even press the doorbell.

“I made some medicinal stew for the old master. Where should I put it?” Qian Jianing didn’t let the driver take it but walked straight to the car to ask.

“There’s a basket in the trunk.” The driver quickly opened the trunk and found a secure spot for the clay pot. To keep it warm, he even wrapped it in a small quilt.

The car steadily made its way to the Dong family’s courtyard. Though only three days had passed, Old Master Dong looked significantly better. Previously, due to illness, he had been half-asleep in bed, looking weaker by the day. But after taking the medicine Qian Jianing prescribed, though his stomach remained bloated, he could sleep more soundly, as if his lost vitality was being replenished. He slept day and night for three days and finally felt more energetic.

When Qian Jianing arrived, the old master had just eaten a few bites and was sitting by the window sunbathing. She entered with bright energy and smiled even before speaking, “You look much better today, Old Master!”

“Mhm!” The old man rarely felt this comfortable these days and greeted her warmly. “You’re here? Hmm?” He sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”

Qian Jianing took the clay pot from the driver and set it on the table beside him. “I made you a medicinal stew. It works even better alongside the prescription I gave you.” She checked his complexion and nodded with satisfaction. “Your color looks much better than it did two days ago. Let me check your pulse first.”

“Can’t I eat the stew first?” Old Master Dong couldn’t take his eyes off the pot. “I’m already starving.”

Qian Jianing turned to Dong Bocheng, who was massaging the old man’s legs. “Didn’t he eat lunch?”

Dong Bocheng smiled wryly. “His appetite’s not been great. Even though the chef keeps changing dishes, he only manages a few bites.”

“Then let’s eat first.” Qian Jianing sat on a nearby stool. “I can check your pulse after.”

The old master hadn’t had an appetite since falling ill. This was the first time in ages he’d said he was hungry. Dong Bocheng quickly sent the housekeeper to fetch a bowl and spoon, then washed his hands and used a warm towel to wipe the old man’s hands and face.

As the lid came off the clay pot, the fragrant aroma and steam surged out, hitting Dong Bocheng right in the face, making him swallow involuntarily.

Old Master Dong glared at him, eyes full of suspicion. “That’s my stew.”

“I know.” Dong Bocheng shook his head with a laugh, served a bowl, scooped a spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it to the old man’s lips.

The old master leaned forward and drank. The flavor burst in his mouth and flowed warmly into his stomach. Just as he was savoring the taste, his stomach growled, and he suddenly felt ravenous.

He snatched the bowl from Dong Bocheng and shoved a chunk of sea cucumber into his mouth, glaring at him. “Look how hungry you let me get! All that love I gave you growing up was wasted.”

Dong Bocheng nervously wiped sweat from his forehead as the old man devoured the stew. “Blow on it! Please blow before you eat!”

Once he’d finished two bowls, Dong Bocheng no longer worried about the stew burning him—now he was worried he’d overeat. Those two bowls were more food than he’d had in half a month. Could his stomach handle it?

The old master finished the last sip and handed the bowl over. “One more bowl. What kind of meat is this? It’s delicious. Give me more of that!”

Dong Bocheng looked troubled. “Dad, maybe you should save it for dinner? I’m afraid it’ll be too much.”

Old Master Dong, rubbing his satisfied belly, scowled. “But I’m still not full.”

Dong Bocheng could only turn to Qian Jianing for help. “Doctor Qian, what do you think?”

Qian Jianing set down her teacup and gently pressed on the old man’s stomach. “This stew also has a warming effect on the stomach. But since you haven’t been eating much recently, it’s better to go easy for now. You can have the rest at dinner.”

The old man reluctantly put down the bowl, rinsed his mouth, and then looked at Qian Jianing even more fondly. “Your cooking’s really good. That stew smells heavenly.”

Qian Jianing beamed with confidence. “There aren’t many people who can outcook me.” Her eyes sparkled. “I forgot to mention—I’m also the owner and head chef of Qian Xiaomi’s Private Kitchen.”

Old Master Dong had been sick recently and didn’t know about the famed restaurant in the capital. Dong Bocheng quickly filled him in. “Dad, Doctor Qian’s restaurant is super popular. Back in September, General Li celebrated his birthday there—fifteen tables, each costing 1,500 yuan. The Buddha Jumps Over the Wall dish had everyone raving, even better than what they serve at state banquets.”

Old Master Dong’s eyes lit up. He reached over and smacked Dong Bocheng on the back of the head. “And you didn’t bring me any?! All you feed me is congee and pickles!”

“Dad, you’re still recovering!” Dong Bocheng said helplessly. “Once you’re better, I’ll definitely take you.”

Hearing “once you’re better,” a shadow flickered in the old man’s eyes, but he quickly hid it with a laugh. “Alright, you better remember that.”

As soon as he said that, Dong Bocheng’s smile stiffened. Qian Jianing took out the wrist pillow. “Let’s check your pulse.”

After taking his pulse and examining his organs, she wrote a stronger prescription than last time. Dong Bocheng had already coordinated with the largest TCM pharmacy in the capital—Lehetang—to handle the medicine. He faxed the prescription straight from the home study, and within half an hour, the medicine was delivered.

Qian Jianing double-checked the medicine, then pulled out a small paper packet from her bag. Inside were a few leaf-like pieces. She placed one into each bundle and explained, “This medicinal primer isn’t available in pharmacies, and I don’t have much of it either—so just one per packet.”

Worried that one piece wouldn’t be enough, Dong Bocheng asked, “How many should there normally be?”

“Three pieces is ideal, but even one ensures effectiveness,” she replied as she sealed each packet.

Dong Bocheng didn’t argue further and went to prepare the medicine. After a hearty meal, the old man felt sleepy again and was helped back to bed by the housekeeper. Qian Jianing had the driver take her home.

Later that day, after drinking a bowl of medicine, the old master remarked at dinner, “My stomach didn’t hurt as much today after the medicine.”

Dong Bocheng was overjoyed. For cancer patients, aside from the fear of death, the worst suffering was the unbearable, stabbing pain.

The old master finished the leftover stew and was less reluctant to take his herbal medicine that evening. However, the preserved fruit that Qian Jianing left was running low.

“Go to Qian’s place every day and buy more preserved fruit. She runs a business—can’t keep freeloading off her.” He paused and added, “Also ask if that stew can be eaten daily. If it can, order a year’s worth. Pay in advance. Have the driver pick it up every day. If I had to rely on our chef, I’d starve.”

Dong Bocheng had always been a dutiful son. The very next day, he happily headed over to Qian Xiaomi’s shop to buy preserved fruit—and to ask about the stew.

Qian Jianing had made quite a lot of preserved fruits and had weighed out a portion for Dong Bocheng. As for the medicinal meals, Qian Jianing showed a troubled expression on her face: “Actually, eating them daily is fine—it’s just that my medicinal meals are quite expensive.”

She got up and walked to the kitchen, and a moment later brought out a few slices of tomato and cucumber, along with two boiled shrimp, placing them in front of Dong Bocheng. “To be honest, Mr. Dong, the medicinal meals I cook use rare and expensive ingredients. These ingredients are limited in quantity, delicious, and hard to come by. I’m not bragging—even with your status, they’re impossible to buy. According to my treatment plan, there’s only one jar of medicinal food per month.”

Dong Bocheng picked up a slice of raw tomato with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. A surprised expression appeared on his face immediately: “Delicious.” He then ate a shrimp—it had none of the usual fishy smell, only the natural sweetness of sea shrimp, even though Qian Jianing said she had just boiled it in plain water with nothing added.

“Even the water I use for making medicinal meals is special.” She brought a glass of mineral water from the kitchen, purchased from Xiantao.com, and handed it to Dong Bocheng. He took a sip and tasted a faint sweetness in the water. After drinking the whole glass, he felt clear-headed and refreshed, as if a weight had been lifted from his body.

“So how much is one jar of Doctor Qian’s medicinal food?” Dong Bocheng put down the glass and asked seriously.

“1,000.” Qian Jianing softly uttered the number, a little worried she might be asking too much. Her hands clenched into fists with nervous tension.

Dong Bocheng laughed when he heard the price: “I’ve already spent 1.5 million—what’s another thousand? Tell you what, I’ll subscribe for a year. I’ll have someone bring the money over this afternoon.”

Qian Jianing breathed a sigh of relief and slowly relaxed her hands. “Alright. To make sure the old master enjoys his meals, I’ll vary the recipes a bit while still ensuring the medicinal effects.”

“Much appreciated.” Dong Bocheng took the preserved fruits and left. Once in the car, he instructed the driver, “To Lehetang at the Le family’s.”

The Le family and the Dong family had been close for decades. The Le family operated Lehetang, the largest traditional Chinese medicine hall in the country. When Old Master Dong fell ill, Dong Bocheng had already consulted Lehetang’s doctors, but they were helpless in his case.

The car stopped at the entrance of Lehetang. Dong Bocheng told the driver to wait outside and walked in alone. The manager of the medicine hall saw him and immediately greeted him with a broad smile: “Mr. Dong, are you here to see our Chairman?”

“Is Director Le here?” Dong Bocheng unbuttoned his coat and glanced at the manager.

“He is, he’s upstairs in his office. I’ll take you up.”

“No need.” Dong Bocheng turned and headed toward the stairs. “You go on, I’ll go up myself.”

He walked up to the third floor and knocked on the chairman’s office door, then pushed it open before waiting for a response.

Le Zongxiang looked up and saw Dong Bocheng enter. He immediately stood up with a smile to welcome him: “Brother Dong, come in and have a seat. Try this new tea I’ve got.”

Dong Bocheng watched as Le Zongxiang boiled water and brewed the tea, patiently waiting. Once the tea was ready, Le Zongxiang poured a cup for him. “How’s the old master doing lately? When I saw the prescription you sent this morning, I checked over the ingredients myself. I have to say, that formula is quite something. But you know, for such a rare recipe, that young lady who’s treating the old master just handed it over so casually—wasn’t she worried we might learn from it?”

Dong Bocheng smiled. “Every patient is different. This prescription was tailored to the old master’s condition, his physical constitution, and the state of his internal organs. Even if it’s a good formula, it wouldn’t suit others. Dr. Qian said if other doctors could develop treatments for other patients based on it, it would be a blessing for them.”

“But the formula isn’t complete.” Dong Bocheng took a paper packet from his bag. “It needs a guiding herb. Dr. Qian said the best effect comes from using three leaves, but she doesn’t have enough in stock—she can only use one at a time. You know me—I won’t cut corners when it comes to treating the old master. I’d like you to see if your family has this herb. I’m willing to pay whatever it takes.”

Dong Bocheng could afford to be generous. The Dong family was one of the most prominent households in the Imperial Capital. Old Master Dong had amassed great wealth through industry during the Republican era, donating generously to the war effort, funding infrastructure and schools after liberation, and doing much good. On the eve of the political campaigns, he sensed the danger and shut down his factories, taking his assets and family abroad. He did business across Southeast Asia for over a decade, doubling his wealth.

After the reform and opening up, the aging Old Master Dong returned to the Imperial Capital with his family and moved back into their ancestral home. He handed over the business to his three sons. The eldest, Dong Bocheng, now head of the Dong family, inherited his father’s business acumen. Upon returning to China, he seized the opportunities of the times, rapidly growing the family’s assets. Today, Dong Bocheng was one of the wealthiest men in the country.

Le Zongxiang took the packet from Dong Bocheng. But when he opened it, he was stunned. It was a leaf, which still retained its original shape after processing. Upon touch, the bright green leaf was clearly dried—it would crumble into powder with just a bit of force. Le Zongxiang had been studying medicine and herbs since he was three. Even though he didn’t treat patients, his long experience meant he could usually identify herbs by touch. But this one, he had never seen before.

He dared not be careless. He carefully laid the leaf on a sheet of paper and studied its shape closely, even leaning in to sniff it.

“What does it smell like?” Dong Bocheng couldn’t help asking.

“A very light fragrance… like sniffing a snowflake—cool and refreshing. Hard to describe.” Le Zongxiang set the leaf on his desk and began searching through references.

“You don’t recognize it either?” Dong Bocheng raised an eyebrow.

Le Zongxiang loosened his tie with slight embarrassment. “I’ve never seen it. Doesn’t ring any bells.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Manager Li, has Granduncle come in today? He has? Great. Please bring him to my office. I’d like his help identifying an herb.”

After hanging up, he turned to Dong Bocheng. “Granduncle is our living herb encyclopedia. If he doesn’t know what it is, we’re out of luck.”

“Your granduncle must be in his nineties now, and still comes to the shop every day?”

“He just can’t sit still. No one can convince him otherwise.”

Thinking of Le Lao’s age, Dong Bocheng sighed with admiration. “That’s amazing.”

When Le Hongbo heard from Manager Li that Le Zongxiang needed help identifying a herb, he was intrigued. Becoming head of the Le family required more than a name—it took years of testing by the older generation, and the ability to diagnose and identify herbs was a basic skill.

He came up to the third floor with a cane and pushed open the office door. “What kind of herb is it that needs me to come up?”

Le Zongxiang and Dong Bocheng quickly stood to help support him. “Bocheng brought this herb. The doctor treating the old master says it’s rare, so the dosage had to be halved. Bocheng came to ask if we have any, but I don’t even recognize it.”

Le Hongbo walked to the desk and looked at the green leaf on the white paper, a puzzled expression on his face. “What herb is this?” He gently touched the leaf. “It’s been processed? Why is the color still like this?”

Dong Bocheng looked disappointed. “Even you don’t recognize it, Granduncle?”

“No.” Le Hongbo carefully picked up the leaf and sniffed it. Suddenly, something came to mind. “I think I saw this herb in a book once.”

“Which book?” Le Zongxiang and Dong Bocheng asked in unison.

After a long pause, Le Hongbo exclaimed, “It was in an old family manuscript—it described some extinct herbs.”

Le Zongxiang pulled open a drawer and took out a yellowed book. “Is it this one, Granduncle?”

Le Hongbo took one look and smacked Le Zongxiang twice with his cane. “I told you—family manuscripts must stay in the library. You’re not allowed to take them out.”

Le Zongxiang grinned awkwardly and didn’t dodge. “I keep forgetting what I read, so I brought it here to study at work.”

After scolding him, Le Hongbo pushed him aside with his cane, sat down, opened the book, and slowly flipped through the pages. Suddenly his eyes lit up. “Found it! Let me read it to you.”

Le Hongbo recited a string of obscure and difficult text, but its translation was quite simple: there is a flower called Suhua, which grows atop mountain peaks amidst snow. It sprouts leaves after five years and blooms after ten. Once processed, its leaves remain emerald green and unspoiled for a thousand years, with miraculous effects in relieving pain and dissolving tumors…

The Le family uncle and nephew instantly turned their eyes to the leaf. Seeing this, Dong Bocheng quickly reached out, picked it up, carefully wrapped it in paper again, and put it back into his bag. “Since you don’t have it, then forget it. I need to go home and decoct medicine for my father.”

As he turned to leave, the uncle and nephew each grabbed him—one by the hand, the other around the waist—firmly holding him back. “Let us see it one more time. What if it’s not the same? Let us verify it for you again!”

Dong Bocheng shook his head firmly. Though the illustration in the book was done in ink and the pages were yellowed, he had recognized at first glance that the leaf in the book was identical to the one he brought. Since this thing was extinct, every use meant one less piece. If he took it out again, the two would surely pester him endlessly for it.

“No.” Dong Bocheng shook his head solemnly. “Zongxiang, you know my father’s condition. He needs this medicine.”

Le Zongxiang sighed and released his grip around Dong’s waist. “Then where exactly does that little Doctor Qian get it from? I’ll go ask her to sell me one!”

Dong Bocheng shook his head. “Without her permission, I can’t tell you. But I can ask her on your behalf and see if she’s willing to spare one for you. But let’s be clear—if she agrees to sell, you must keep it confidential. If she doesn’t, you mustn’t pursue it. This thing is extinct, and I suspect she only has a few pieces at most.”

“I understand.” Le Zongxiang patted his chest. “We’re in the medical profession—we know the rules.”

Dong Bocheng nodded. “That’s best. Otherwise, don’t blame me for putting our families’ relationship aside.”

“Don’t worry.” Le Zongxiang looked at him seriously. “If little Doctor Qian is willing to part with one, I’m willing to pay a hundred thousand yuan for it.”

Meanwhile, in the Qian family courtyard, Treasure Bowl sat at the table drinking sweet osmanthus porridge. “Xiaomi, is my celestial cake ready yet?”

“Ready!” Qian Jianing brought out a plate of celestial cake from the steamer and placed it in front of Treasure Bowl. “Take your time eating.”

“Eh, wait…” Treasure Bowl grabbed Qian Jianing’s hand and studied her face carefully. “Xiaomi, you’ve got a windfall coming your way!”

Qian Jianing’s eyes instantly lit up. “How many zeros in this windfall?”

Treasure Bowl hesitated and bit his lip. “Can’t tell… but it’s a big amount.”

Qian Jianing gave him a look and shook her head helplessly. “Your professional skills are kinda lacking!”

Treasure Bowl jumped up, fuming. “My profession is attracting wealth, not fortune-telling!”