Chapter 11: You Still Claim You Practice Modern Medicine?

Feng Xue muttered to himself about this half-baked brand, but seeing the middle-aged women in wide-brimmed hats and whalebone skirts, panting yet still marching forward, he ultimately didn't approach—only silently scoffed inside.

"Just one glance, there are already seven or eight dressed like Western ladies; considering perfume prices, these women probably don't treat perfume shop visits as daily social rituals—I just happened to stumble upon this? Too much of a coincidence. It must mean this shop's normal foot traffic is this high. If so, there must be quite a few wealthy people in this small county."

He reviewed in his mind the knowledge he'd researched when writing his novels in his past life, but could only recall two possibilities—

One: this county is near an airport or port, or is itself a major transportation hub, leveraging its geographical advantage to amass great wealth.

Two: among the current leaders of this county, there exists a person of immense background, attracting numerous merchants to invest and set up factories here, boosting the economy.

Other possibilities like tourist attractions existed too, but given the utterly undeveloped wasteland he had crossed into, these could be safely ruled out…

"Wait!"

Feng Xue suddenly remembered: this world possessed supernatural power. So—is it possible… this county is a fengshui treasure land?

"If that's true, then this county might actually harbor some true experts!"

As Feng Xue's thoughts swirled, he arrived at the pharmacy's entrance. Gazing at the sign "Lan's Pharmacy," he brushed off the crumb residue from his baked bun, then firmly pushed the door open.

"Prescription or consultation?" As he stepped in, the bell chimed sharply—he heard a voice tinged with excitement. Looking up, he noticed the pharmacy's interior was unusual: on the left stood the traditional wooden medicine cabinets common to Chinese herbal shops; on the right, aluminum-steel shelves held row upon row of brown glass bottles.

The speaker stood beside a consultation desk in a white lab coat, her face masked—though it concealed most of her features, the spacing of her brows and the contour of her face suggested she wasn't unattractive. She stood at the center of the pharmacy, but what Feng Xue cared about most was the number hovering above her head: thirty thousand days.

"Even accounting for age, she could live past a hundred. Given her youth, she must have real ability." Feng Xue nodded inwardly, then spoke in a formulaic tone:

"You're… Miss Lan?"

"If you don't mind, call me Doctor Lan. I hold a medical license, though hardly anyone here recognizes it." Doctor Lan pointed to a "frame" on the desk—inside lay an open medical qualification certificate.

But the string of English letters on it? Feng Xue guessed even if locals wanted to recognize it, they couldn't read it.

Sensing her opening line sounded absurd, Doctor Lan pulled out a chair and gestured for Feng Xue to sit, then forcibly steered the conversation back on track:

"You look energetic. Any discomfort?"

Seeing Doctor Lan immediately prepare a classical-looking blood pressure cuff, Feng Xue hurriedly said:

"I'm not dizzy, and my blood pressure is normal!"

"Huh? You recognize it?" Doctor Lan raised an eyebrow, then carefully studied Feng Xue's attire, surprised:

"Out-of-towner?"

"So after all this time, you never actually looked at me?" Feng Xue silently scoffed, but replied honestly: "Yes, I'm traveling. I heard Doctor Lan's family has a…"

"Stop!" Doctor Lan instantly stiffened her expression:

"From your appearance, I thought you were well-educated. How can you believe this nonsense? I studied modern medicine—herbal or Western drugs are both medical techniques, not divine elixirs bestowed by immortals!"

Here, Doctor Lan took two deep breaths, as if suppressing her emotions, then said:

"Never mind. I'm a doctor—I shouldn't react like this. Tell me, what's your problem?"

"I have only nine years left to live."

Feng Xue wasn't concerned with Doctor Lan's inner turmoil—he spoke plainly. But Doctor Lan was thrown: she'd met many patients who claimed they were dying, but never one who pinpointed the exact year—nine years from now.

"So specific?" Her casual demeanor vanished instantly. Only now did Feng Xue feel: "This woman is truly a doctor."

"Yes, my condition is caused by a curse. If you insist you only practice medicine, I'll have to go elsewhere."

Feng Xue had no intention of beating around the bush—he spoke directly.

Doctor Lan fell silent for a moment, then pointed to the pulse pillow on the desk:

"At least let me examine you first."

The room fell quiet, save for faint breathing and heartbeat. Feng Xue was about to activate his over-the-shoulder view to spot something unusual—when suddenly, his finger twitched.

No—not his index finger—but…

The ring.

It was Bai She!

"Interesting!"

He activated his over-the-shoulder view, slowly rotating his perspective, and noticed: Doctor Lan held his pulse with one hand, while her toe tapped at a rhythm like stepping on an electric switch. He turned again—her seemingly idle left hand was forming a seal.

"So you still claim you study modern medicine?"

Feng Xue silently mocked—then suddenly noticed a faint aura, invisible to normal sight, rising around her.

The aura slowly enveloped Doctor Lan entirely. Her ordinary features suddenly took on an ethereal quality.

"Powerful cursing method!"

The voice entering Feng Xue's ears was still Doctor Lan's—but the tone had changed, as if another person spoke. Those ethereal eyes swept over him, lingering briefly on the ring formed by Bai She, then said:

"You bear two curses—both lifespan-draining. But… the second one, you deliberately took on?"

"Expert!" Feng Xue's hope surged—he immediately replied:

"Correct. When I was cursed, I had no other choice—I panicked and grabbed at any straw…"

"I can see that. Still, it worked out better than you thought." "Doctor Lan" nodded, speaking with an old, weary tone:

"Both curses are potent, but whether the caster is dead or for some other reason, they've become rootless ghosts. I can help you break them—but the lifespan already lost, I cannot restore."

Feng Xue's fleeting hope was doused—but compared to the despair of having only sixty days left after his first transmigration, this disappointment meant little.

Still, since she wasn't speaking without reason, he pressed: "What's the difference between breaking the curse or not?"

"Doctor Lan" smiled faintly:

"The difference? If you don't break it, no matter how much you nurture yourself, you'll live only nine more years—not a single day more. Break it, and you might extend your life a few extra days through healthy living."

(End of Chapter)