That evening, Mu Xueqing’s medical diagnostic report was stamped "void" by the City Hospital.
Xu Luoning leaned against her headboard, flipping through a script. Outside the window, the neon lights illuminated the gold-embossed cover of *The Great Yin Dynasty*. She traced the three characters for "Crown Princess," and the sound of palace music seemed to drift into her ears from beneath the ancient walls. She felt as though she had already stepped into that ancient dynasty, sensing the very breath of that bygone era.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on Weibo: "Shen Group offers ten-million-dollar reward for medical expert."
***
City Hospital.
Shen Yanzhi stepped into the top-floor VIP ward. The corridor was heavy with the pungent scent of disinfectant. He loosened his tie, his gaze fixed through the glass window on Elder Shen, who lay in the hospital bed. The old man’s neck bore a jagged scar from a border conflict twenty years ago; now, tormented by the rainy weather, it looked particularly gruesome, like a purplish-blue viper gnawing at his marrow.
The attending physician’s expression was grim. Beads of cold sweat stood out on his forehead as he handed over the CT scans. "President Shen, the Elder’s condition is multi-organ failure caused by his old injury. Unless we can find an expert proficient in ancient acupuncture techniques, otherwise..."
Shen Yanzhi’s fingers tightened around the CT envelope. As he turned, he quickly dialed his special assistant’s number. "Immediately screen the entire city for a list of traditional Chinese medicine practitioners skilled in ancient acupuncture, especially those who have only recently emerged."
His voice carried an unquestionable firmness; he had clearly made up his mind to spare no cost to find a way to save his grandfather.
After hanging up, Shen Yanzhi’s eyes fell once more upon the complex web of shadows from the blood vessels on the CT scan. Outside the window, the twilight was blood-red, reflecting the cold, hard lines of his profile. His eyes were filled with determination and resolve, as if he were ready to face any challenge.
The assistant’s reply came through his Bluetooth headset. Shen Yanzhi was gently stroking the century-old Struck-by-lightning Wooden Prayer Beads resting by the Elder’s pillow. These beads had witnessed the rise and fall of the Shen Family. Twenty years ago, during that attack, a bullet had grazed the beads, leaving a crack that was strikingly similar to the trajectory of the blood clot shown on the CT scan.
"President Shen, we found a student named Xu Luoning in Class 1, Grade 12 of City No. 1 High School." The assistant’s voice carried a hint of nervousness. "There was a car accident in the East District last week..."
The assistant sent over a video of Xu Luoning providing emergency aid at the scene of the accident. On the phone screen, the young girl’s silhouette as she saved the victim perfectly matched the ancient texts' description of "Golden Needle Crossing Tribulation."
Shen Yanzhi stared at the video, an indescribable sense of shock surging in his heart, as if he had glimpsed a ray of hope.
"Prepare the car." He grabbed his suit jacket, the prayer beads leaving deep imprints in his palm. "We're going to City No. 1 High School."
Shen Yanzhi’s tone betrayed an undeniable sense of urgency. He decided to meet this potential savior in person; no matter the outcome, he would not abandon any shred of hope.
The night was as dark as ink. The gates of City No. 1 High School appeared particularly solitary under the dim streetlights, like a silent guardian keeping watch over the campus that nurtured such hope. When Shen Yanzhi arrived by car, only a few scattered streetlights flickered in the night, their faint glow adding an air of mystery and solemnity to the quiet evening.
He crossed the empty athletic field, his footsteps steady and powerful. Every step seemed to declare the firmness and resolve within his heart. In the classroom building, the lights in most classrooms had already been extinguished, but the windows of Class 1, Grade 12 still emitted a faint, warm glow, as if, even in the silence of the night, a group of young hearts were still striving for their dreams.