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Chapter 382

~11 min read 2,103 words

Wan Changqing was taken aback; he never expected this youngster to be so young yet so hot‑tempered. As the saying goes, without a diamond drill one shouldn't handle porcelain work—perhaps he really does have some skill.

At this moment two more physicians' servants were driven out; one even had his scholar's headgear ripped off. A servant shouted, "Quacks dare to come to the door to swindle—if you dare come again, I'll hit you each time." The two physicians fled in disgrace.

Wan Changqing glanced over, a faint cold smile curling his lips, then his gaze fell on Hu Xiaotian's face—his meaning could not be clearer: if you lack genuine ability and still try to swindle your way in, you'll end up just like them.

Although Wan Changqing deep down doubted this youngster could possess any remarkable medical skill, given the dire situation of the second young master—who was at death's door—he had already tried every conceivable remedy; as the saying goes, "treat a dead horse as if it were alive," so having another opinion could hardly hurt.

Hu Xiaotian followed Wan Changqing to Wan Ting Sheng's residence. The Wan mansion was vast, covering over thirty mu, far more imposing than the county office. The front area was for receiving guests and conducting affairs; all Wan family members lived in the rear courtyard, with the back garden as the center, divided into five separate zones. Wan Yuanwai lived in the main house facing south, the eldest son Wan Ting Chang resided to his left—in the east wing; the second son lived in the west wing; the third son, Wan Tingguang, had lived with his parents before marriage. Prior to his wedding, the Wan family specially prepared a small courtyard in the southeast corner adjoining the bamboo grove for the couple, but on their wedding day this ill‑fated third young master died, and the widowed Le Yao has continued to live there ever since.

Hu Xiaotian arrived at the west wing but had not yet stepped through the gate when he heard the sound of women weeping from inside; the servants standing before the door all wore looks of sorrow and despair. His heart sank as he thought to himself, "Could Wan Ting Sheng already be dead? If he is, then my trip here would have been for nothing."

Upon entering the west wing gate, he saw Wan Bo Ping and the eldest son Wan Ting Chang standing there with worried, grim faces. Although Wan Bo Ping had three sons, he doted most on the second son, Wan Ting Sheng; the third son was a simpleton and had already passed away. The eldest idled away his days, indulging in eating, drinking, whoring and gambling without restraint—one could say Wan Bo Ping had placed all his hopes for inheriting the family estate on the second son; who would have thought the second son would meet with such misfortune.

Wan Ting Chang accompanied his father with a worried frown, yet inside he felt immense delight. In affluent families, brotherly affection often grows thin; Wan Ting Chang knew he was not favored by his father, and the Wan estate would mostly fall to the second son. Deep down he had wished the second son would die early, and now, unbelievably, his wish seemed to have come true. If the second son were truly dead, he would become the sole heir, and the Wan family's vast fortune would essentially be his alone. The more he thought about it, the more pleased he grew—almost bursting into laughter.

Seeing Wan Changqing summon such a young physician, Wan Bo Ping was visibly displeased, and Wan Ting Chang finally found an opportunity to show off; he naturally seized the moment to point at Wan Changqing's nose and berate him: "Do you have any brains? You actually brought a wet‑behind‑the‑ears brat to treat an illness? You've delayed my brother's condition—I'll have you answer for this!" He acted as if he were deeply concerned about his brother's condition.

Wan Changqing hung his head under the scolding, saying nothing. Murong Feiyan, however, could not stand it—not because she objected to Wan Changqing being rebuked, but because Wan Ting Chang's remarks had insulted Hu Xiaotian. She said coldly, "One cannot judge a book by its cover; don't assume someone's abilities just because they are young, nor assume someone who looks upright is necessarily good—who knows what shady deeds he might be up to behind the scenes?"

Murong Feiyan had merely blurted out in a fit of anger; who would have thought her words struck exactly at the Wan father and son's weak point? Their gazes snapped to her in unison—sharp as they were, they instantly realized she was a woman dressed as a man, and both almost simultaneously thought, "What a beautiful woman she is!"

Hu Xiaotian said, "Well said, Feiyan. Since they don't trust us, there's no need for us to stay here and suffer their scorn—let's go!" He turned as if to leave; in truth he cared little whether Wan Ting Sheng lived or died, his reason for coming was solely Le Yao.

Wan Bo Ping had now reached the point of desperation, calling in any physician of repute in Qingyun Xian; yet everyone had been unable to help, all declaring his beloved son surely doomed. Although he had sent people far and wide to summon famous doctors, he did not know how long the round trip would take, and even if he could secure a skilled physician, by the time they arrived in Qingyun it might already be too late. Wan Bo Ping hurriedly said, "Please, sir, wait!"

Hu Xiaotian had originally been merely posturing; hearing Wan Bo Ping's plea, he halted his steps: "Wan Yuanwai, do you have anything else you need from me?"

Given Wan Bo Ping's arrogant nature, he would not lower himself unless absolutely forced; his beloved son's life hung in the balance, and he had lost his former pride. Wan Bo Ping squeezed out a faint smile and said, "Mr. Hu, please stay; my son's conduct has been improper—I hope you will not take offense."

Wan Ting Chang, hearing his father speak in such a deferential tone, could not help but flush with anger, his face turning ashen; he could not understand why his father would show such humility toward a young physician.

Hu Xiaotian glanced at Wan Ting Chang and said, "Failure to educate the son is the father's fault—Wan Yuanwai ought to reflect on this."

Both Wan Bo Ping and his son felt their anger flare; Wan Bo Ping used his gaze to check his son's outburst, thinking inwardly, "Just who are you, youngster, to be so arrogant, daring to lecture even an old man like me? If you really have some ability, that's one thing; but if you cannot cure my son, I'll settle old and new scores with you—no one in Qingyun dares to act presumptuously before me." Yet, concerned for his son's condition, he forced down his rage and put on a friendly face.

Only then did Hu Xiaotian agree to go inside to examine Wan Ting Sheng.

The Wan household had many women; the one weeping most bitterly at the bedside was Wan Ting Sheng's mother, while his wife and two maidservants—who were in fact his concubines, having already consummated the marriage but not yet held the ceremony—wailed uncontrollably beside her.

Seeing the room full of women weeping until the world seemed dark, Wan Bo Ping felt a surge of irritation and waved his hand, saying, "Cry, cry, cry! All you do is cry—get out, all of you!"

Wan's lady was of ample and dignified bearing, but her eyes were red from weeping over her son; she sobbed, "Am I not even allowed to cry for my son? … If anything happens to him—any mishap—I won't let this rest with you!"

After finally managing to usher the women out, Hu Xiaotian approached the bedside and saw Wan Ting Sheng lying stiffly. He first checked the young man's breath and pulse, confirming that breathing and heartbeat were still present—so he was not dead—then lifted the eyelids to examine the pupils, which were not dilated; Hu Xiaotian began to form an idea.

Hu Xiaotian then proceeded to examine Wan Ting Sheng's injuries. He had initially thought the lad had been knocked senseless by his own blow to the forehead, but after a thorough check he realized the injuries were not limited to one spot; the body bore more than a dozen bruises, and the ultimate damage lay in the left temple—meaning it was not his single strike that had reduced him to this state. Recalling that besides himself, only Le Yao had been present that night, and she was frail and weak, and they had been together the whole time, there was no reason for her to return after he left and strike again; moreover, she lacked the strength to inflict such harm. It seemed the attacker was someone else.

Because Wan Ting Sheng had fallen into a coma, the only way to learn about his condition was to ask others.

Wan Bo Ping said, "He accidentally fell in the courtyard last night; when we found him, he was already like this." In fact, when they discovered Wan Ting Sheng, he was clad in black with his face covered, leading the Wan household to suspect a flying thief; Wan Bo Ping was clearly not telling the truth, mainly because family disgrace is not to be aired, and such a matter is truly shameful to speak of.

Hu Xiaotian shook his head and said, "A fall? Unlikely. To be frank, the young master has multiple wounds on his head and body; these are not the result of a tumble but of violent blows." He naturally understood the situation, but although he had only struck Wan Ting Sheng once with a stick the previous night, judging from the young man's present condition, it was certain that after Hu Xiaotian dragged him away, someone else took the opportunity to deal a dark hand.

Wan Ting Chang, standing nearby, snapped angrily, "Do you even know how to treat illness? My brother is at death's door, yet you keep spouting irrelevant nonsense, wasting his precious time—can you bear the responsibility?"

Hu Xiaotian gave him a cold look and replied, "If I cannot cure him, I doubt anyone else in the world could!" He spoke with full confidence, his words firm and unyielding.

Apart from Murong Feiyan, who had witnessed his miraculous medical skill, everyone else thought this young physician was excessively arrogant; Hu Xiaotian intended to use such statements to shock them, and what he had just said contained no exaggeration—on this continent, surgical knowledge is terribly backward. Although lacking modern diagnostic equipment, Hu Xiaotian, based on Wan Ting Sheng's symptoms, still made a preliminary diagnosis. Wan Ting Sheng likely suffered an extradural hematoma caused by trauma; an extradural hematoma is a blood clot located between the inner table of the skull and the dura mater, commonly occurring on the convex surface of the supratentorial compartment, accounting for roughly thirty percent of traumatic intracranial hematomas, with rapid onset, and its formation is closely related to cranial injury—due to fracture or temporary deformation of the skull from trauma, the meningeal artery or venous sinus in the bony groove is torn, causing bleeding or bleeding from a fractured plate.

Although Hu Xiaotian's display of formidable confidence bordered on arrogance, his self‑assurance also stunned many of those present.

Wan Bo Ping lowered his voice and asked, "May I inquire, sir, what exactly is my son's ailment?"

Hu Xiaotian said, "He has developed an intracranial hematoma due to blunt force trauma to the head; the resulting clot compresses the brain, causing the acute coma. Fortunately you have encountered me—otherwise, even a deity could not save him." This remark clearly shows he considers himself superior to a god.

The Wan family exchanged glances, unsure where this young physician drew such immense confidence from—could he really possess such ability?

Only eighty more votes are needed to reach the two‑thousand‑vote goal; after removing the double‑count factor, that amounts to just forty chapters. I believe we can finish tonight—Zhangyu will first send the first update, adding fuel to the push for the rankings. Once these forty votes are in, Zhangyu will release chapter eight! Words must be deeds, let this stand as proof! Brothers and sisters, let's enjoy the good days first—don't hoard your monthly tickets! (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please cast your recommendation and monthly votes; your support is my greatest motivation.)

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