Chapter 237: The Gangster Doctor

"Hey, you..."

Seeing Wang Yan burst in, Ruan Mei wanted to say something, but then remembered he was a gangster, and since she still needed his help, she wisely stayed silent.

She made a fist-punch-to-the-head gesture behind his back, turned to shut the door, then saw Wang Yan's door wide open and shouted inside: "Hey, you don't even close your door?"

"Hey hey hey, I've got a name—I told you to call me 'Yan Ge,' and you're showing zero respect. Besides, who in this building would dare break into my room to steal?"

Ruan Mei said nothing, muttering "fucking loser" under her breath, walked to the opposite side, shut her door, then returned inside and closed her own door.

Wang Yan was already seated at the table, helping the old woman sort out the takeout food they'd brought back. Seeing Ruan Mei enter, he said: "Where's my roasted chicken, duck, and beer?"

She rolled her eyes, pulled a chilled beer from the fridge, then picked up two bags from the cabinet and placed them on the table: "Here, your beer's all chilled."

"Good job." Wang Yan nodded in satisfaction: "Bring me the test results. Let me see if this is even treatable."

She'd been waiting for that exact phrase—Ruan Mei rushed over, pulled out a file folder, and handed it to Wang Yan, then sat on the nearby stool, blinking at him.

"Eat your food. Why are you staring at me?"

"Oh come on, you've been staring for ages—say something! How am I supposed to eat like this?"

Wang Yan kept reading for a while, thinking through a treatment plan.

Ruan Mei's condition wasn't bad overall—it was a circulatory disorder caused by arterial issues, leading to irregular heart blood supply and flow. The key point was that her heart had fully developed, but by Western medical standards, its anatomical structure was abnormal. In simple terms, Ruan Mei's heart structure differed from that of most healthy people. But the deviation wasn't extreme—just a slight irregularity, still harmful to the heart.

Overall, it was a complex, hard-to-treat case. With his level of skill, consistent medication and proper rest for about a year or so would mostly fix it. No surgery needed—directly targeting the lesion—and the cost would be far cheaper.

As for the specific treatment plan, it followed traditional Chinese medicine principles: not directly altering the heart. Even the most powerful TCM couldn't restructure internal anatomy through the chest cavity. Instead, it would regulate other organs, enhance their functions, helping them adapt to this unusual heart and establish an overall healthy circulation.

After reading it, Wang Yan casually set the test results aside, tore off a chicken leg, and placed it in the old woman's bowl as she quietly ate: "Eat some meat, Granny."

The old woman nodded silently. She was a woman of propriety—Ruan Mei must have discussed seeing Wang Yan with her beforehand. Though she likely opposed it, she couldn't say anything now. Besides, Wang Yan was a gangster; offending him would bring bad luck to the household. What could an old woman do?

Ruan Mei, waiting half the night, couldn't hold back: "Hey, say something already!"

He glanced at her, opened the beer, and took a sip: "I told you—I've got a name."

Watching Wang Yan, grease dripping from his mouth as he ate, Ruan Mei was furious—but after holding it in for a long time, she finally whispered: "Yan Ge, can you cure me?"

"Louder. I didn't hear you."

"Yan Ge!" Ruan Mei glared, shouting loudly: "Can you cure me?!"

Wang Yan nodded in satisfaction: "Curing your illness isn't a big problem—it'll just take time, about a year. Can you accept that?"

"Don't lie to me, Yan Ge—is it really curable?"

"Yan Ge, time isn't an issue—not even two years if it cures me." Seeing Wang Yan nod, Ruan Mei instantly beamed, tore off a piece of meat, and cooed sweetly: "Yan Ge, eat more meat—you're so busy every day, you must be exhausted. Take good care of yourself. How much will the treatment cost? You know I don't have much money—it's all saved up bit by bit by me and Granny..."

"I can't say exactly how much it'll cost—you'll need to buy the herbs yourself." Wang Yan took a big bite of meat and drank a gulp of beer: "As for my consultation fee, just provide lunch and dinner. When you're fully healed, we'll call it even. But I'm clear on this: every meal must be four dishes and one soup, with meat included. Don't give me your spoiled leftovers."

Ruan Mei looked down at her own bowl of food. She was stubborn and stingy—she knew perfectly well it had gone bad. But two meals a day, four dishes and a soup, with meat every time—how much would that cost? "Just dinner, okay? Prices are high, and you eat so much."

"Of course." Wang Yan nodded, then shifted tone: "Then I'll charge you one hundred thousand yuan."

"Hey, are you robbing me?" Meeting Wang Yan's gaze, Ruan Mei finally gave in, waving her hand like she was giving up: "Fine, two meals it is."

She wasn't stupid—she knew one hundred thousand yuan could cover years of meals, and with so much food, she and Granny could eat too. In the end, she still came out ahead. Looking at it this way... maybe this fucking loser wasn't so bad after all...

"Don't act like it's a burden—you're getting the better deal." Wang Yan watched Ruan Mei's eyes darting around, calculating her gains: "To prove I'm not a fraud, I'll prescribe you a formula right now. Brew it yourself and see the effect. Also, your Granny's health doesn't look good—I'll take her pulse and prescribe her some herbs too."

"Really? Thank you so much, Yan Ge."

Ruan Mei was delighted—calling him "Yan Ge" now came naturally.

"You'll know whether I lied after a few days of drinking the medicine." Wang Yan said: "Alright, eat. Throw away your food—it smells rotten. I brought back plenty—I'll share."

"It's not spoiled. Don't waste food—I'll eat it."

Wang Yan shook his head: "Eating spoiled food harms your health. If your heart condition flares up because of it, hospital bills are the least of your worries—you might die right here at home. Which do you think is cheaper?"

Saying that, he ignored her and went back to calmly drinking and eating.

Ruan Mei hesitated for a moment, then turned and tossed the food into the trash. She came back without a word, tore off a large chunk of meat, and devoured it.

"No one's fighting you for it—eat slowly..." the old woman warned from the side.

"No, I'm eating back every bite I threw away." Ruan Mei's mouth was full, mumbling at Wang Yan.

"I was just joking—you can keep eating if you want. Why blame me?"

"You scared me—that's why it's your fault."

She was twenty-one—normally still a student in her ivory tower. Though she'd lived through hardship in this era, she was still not fully mature.

But being lively was fine. Wang Yan's playful side surfaced—he drank and ate loudly, deliberately irritating Ruan Mei. The meal ended under her glaring eyes—boring, yet oddly entertaining.

After eating, Wang Yan washed his hands, took the old woman's pulse, then left her slowly clearing the dishes and took Ruan Mei back to his room across the hall.

"Make yourself at home. I'll write you and your Granny two prescriptions." Wang Yan pulled out paper and ink and began writing.

Though she'd been here once before, entering again still felt odd—Ruan Mei kept glancing around, touching things, feeling strange.

"Ah Mei." Soon, Wang Yan finished the prescriptions and called her over: "I've written the dosage and usage instructions. Tomorrow, go to the pharmacy, buy the herbs, and brew them yourself."

"Got it." Ruan Mei clutched the two prescriptions like treasures: "I never would've guessed—your handwriting's actually nice."

He ignored her superficial compliment and said: "Do you have an extra pot? You're not using the same one for cooking and decocting medicine, are you?"

Ruan Mei stuck her chin out: "So what? Wash it clean—it's the same."

"Fine. I'll be generous and help you once. Use my pot—you'll decoct the medicine in my room. Your and your Granny's herbs will smell so strong you'll annoy the neighbors every day. Here, it'll cause less trouble." Wang Yan pulled out a key and handed it to her: "I helped you again. In return, you clean my room and wash my clothes—fair enough?"

"Dream on," Ruan Mei said without hesitation, turning and walking out.

"Fine. Don't blame me when the neighbors come knocking to complain."

Hearing that, Ruan Mei stopped at the door, thought for a moment, then turned quickly, strode to the table, snatched the key, and said: "You're lucky—I'm giving you a break, hmph..."

Then came the loud "bang" of the door slamming shut.

Wang Yan shook his head. He always complained the door was broken and needed repair, yet he kept slamming it around—of course it'd break.

He ignored Ruan Mei's tantrum, hummed a tune, and picked up a book to read.

He was truly idle now. The only thing he did was fight, steal money, seize territory—everything else was nothing. And even that one thing was the least respectable...

He loitered for another two hours, then wandered to the territory he'd seized yesterday. Today it reopened—every penny earned was his, so he had to show up to keep order. What if some fools, still dazed from yesterday's beating, came back with a gang? The profits weren't much, but better than nothing.

Of course, there's a saying: you see others as you are. Wang Yan was exactly that kind—what he saw were opportunities. If he were a third party, he'd have led men in to strike while they were unsteady and disunited.

In fact, he'd overthought it. If such a person truly existed, the very subordinates he'd beaten down—those small bosses and minor leaders—would be them now.

Wang Yan stayed until the small hours, personally observing the overall operations before heading home.

To be honest, it wasn't good at all. The place was a cesspool; only a few gangsters came here to spend, because it was cheaper than other big venues and offered drinking and bragging. The customer base was limited—how could you make money? As for real profits, Wang Yan watched people peddling small bags of powder here—that's where the real money was.

Wang Yan strongly disliked that, but since he wasn't yet respectable and no one heard his voice, he hadn't acted. It wasn't that he couldn't handle them—he could personally lead a decapitation strike and easily shatter their internal structure. But it wasn't worth letting someone else benefit; he'd just wait.

The immediate priority now was expanding the customer base. To attract other young people who liked to party, you needed a good environment. And for a good environment, it still came down to how much land you controlled and how many men you had.

For now, that's all they could do. Wait until he grew stronger and took over the entire Ma An Shan. Then he wouldn't just have customers—he could keep collecting management fees. Sure, the amount was small, but even a mosquito's blood is blood. Why let others profit when it could be him, Wang Mou?

Among the few establishments he took over, one karaoke bar came with that kind of business. Wang Yan instructed them not to force anyone, and simply raised the pay for frontline staff. Those already in the trade he couldn't save; those wanting to join, he had no obligation to save. All he guaranteed was not forcing decent women into it—the rest was up to them.

Pulling decent women into the trade, persuading fallen women to reform—this saying was very correct. Before he got the system, Wang Yan had seen old brothers go out with hostesses, talking about life and ideals, giving extra tips but not even sleeping with them—purely insane.

He himself was often hypocritical, but he never applied that hypocrisy here. There were reasons, but the path was chosen by themselves—who knew if she was comfortable or even enjoyed it?

The next day, Wang Yan woke early to climb the mountain and train. Again, he met Luo Huiling, who greeted him with her usual warm smile—only to get the cold shoulder. After exercising, he returned for breakfast, then carried a basin to the communal bathroom to wash up, just as Ruan Mei trudged out, dressed but listless.

"Don't forget—four dishes and one soup at lunch."

Knowing she had a cure, Ruan Mei had tossed and turned half the night, finally falling asleep in the small hours. Now, hearing Wang Yan's words, she perked up instantly: "Isn't this just a trial? I'll wait and see if there's any effect after this week's dose."

"Trial? Do you think my prescriptions are free?" Wang Yan glared. "Starting today, lunch and dinner must be four dishes and one soup."

Without giving her a chance to argue, he turned and walked inside, slamming the door shut.

"Hey?" She called out, got no reply, stomped her foot, and slammed her palm hard against the door: "Eat yourself to death…"

That day, Ruan Mei bought medicine and spent hours fussing in Wang Yan's room. Because public housing had high density and poor ventilation, the strong herbal smell permeated three floors up and down.

As Wang Yan had predicted, a group of residents couldn't take it anymore and came to complain. But when they saw Wang Yan standing there, they politely withdrew—though inwardly they sent their most sincere curses and blessings to his ancestors eighteen generations back…

After two days, news of Wang Yan's dozens of subordinates had spread. Even though they were all ordinary people, far removed from the dirty underworld, there were still plenty of well-informed gangsters in the building. Word of mouth turned it into gossip—everyone wished Wang Yan would die soon, get slashed to pieces.

No other gangsters were spreading the word—only Xu Guanwen and his few like-minded types, who loudly bragged about how powerful their bosses were and how many men they commanded.

Ruan Mei, seeing so many people come and go, finally realized how annoying it was, and gave Wang Yan a small thanks. She couldn't help it—she'd finally found hope for a cure; she couldn't abandon it. The nuisance? Let it be. What else could she do? As for cooking, cleaning, and laundry for Wang Yan, aside from occasionally bickering with him, she said nothing more. She felt the money spent on his treatment was well worth it.

Wang Yan's daily early rising continued, but on the third day, he no longer encountered Luo Huiling. She'd evidently confirmed he was diligent and didn't want to be bothered—she either left early or came back late, always avoiding him. Living on the first floor, Wang Yan had exchanged a few words with the other women. The most polite was Second Sister Fang Ting, then Third Sister Fang Min, and least so was First Sister Fang Fang. Why? Second Sister didn't want trouble; Third Sister was young and naive, thought Wang Yan was okay; First Sister was a fiery little thing, trying to scare off the ill-intentioned Wang Yan.

Wang Yan never slackened in his afternoon training. Over time, the subordinates adapted. Of course, they had no choice—he kicked hard. Train all afternoon, then guard the territory until the small hours—repeating this daily, the gangsters groaned in exhaustion.

Nearby factions watched Wang Yan's actions as a joke. They never imagined what he'd do next—was exactly them.

Days passed. Ruan Mei had taken the medicine for many days. Though her illness wouldn't show quick results, she felt something. Her grandmother looked much better—her complexion flushed, her vitality improving daily, her appetite growing stronger. The old woman, who'd once doubted Wang Yan, now treated him with warmth. She was old but not foolish—they'd hit the jackpot.

Because of Wang Yan's miraculous hands, the neighbors weren't fools. Seeing the grandmother's condition improve, others couldn't help but come to inquire, hoping he'd treat them too. But when they heard it was Wang Yan's doing, they were stunned—forced to abandon their immature ideas.

But the facts were right there, impossible to deny. And though Hong Kong was now under foreign rule, the locals had high acceptance of traditional Chinese medicine and feng shui—especially when results were visible.

Thus, despite Wang Yan being a thug and widely disliked, asking him for help wasn't a big deal—worst case, you got yelled at, and you lost nothing. So a few elderly residents came to him, leveraging their age to flatter and plead for favors.

Wang Yan didn't care. As long as they paid, he'd casually treat them to keep his skills sharp and pass the time. News of his willingness spread through the elderly patients he'd prescribed for. Soon, nearly everyone in the building came. Mainly because his fees were negligible compared to big hospitals—people came because they believed "if there's a bargain, not taking it makes you a fool." Otherwise, they were poor—why spend money they didn't have? They usually just endured.

With so many people coming—headaches, colds, general health—Wang Yan couldn't handle it all, and he had his own matters. So he had Ruan Mei register those seeking treatment and limited consultations to four hours each morning.

Luo Huiling and the three Fang sisters watched this scene, utterly stunned. A gang boss with dozens of men, treating people cheaply in public housing? The contrast was too great. Worse—there was actual efficacy. He really knew how. That made it even more unbelievable. After all, with such skill, how could he not be rich? Why become a gangster who'd get slashed to death by dawn?

Still, though they thought it, they became noticeably kinder to Wang Yan. Most visibly, he started encountering Luo Huiling again in the mornings, even exchanging a few words. His relationship with the three Fang sisters also improved—fairly decent, all things considered.

But the most astonished was Ruan Mei, closest to Wang Yan. Seeing how powerful he was, she couldn't help urging him to quit the underworld.

Wang Yan naturally refused. Their daily bickering was, somehow, pleasant.

In the blink of an eye, half a month passed…