"You should stay home these next few days and use the time to cure the girl's illness. I had no idea your sister even taught you medicine. I don't know how much you managed to learn, but if you picked up even thirty percent of her skill, you could walk all over the medical world."
"Oh, by the way, how did you manage to get down the mountain?" Shang Yilin asked out of curiosity.
"My sister chased me down," Zhang Ming answered awkwardly, since he hadn't actually taken any tests at all.
"Haha, no way! Are you really that clumsy? Did your sister chase you away because she couldn't teach you anything more? Hahaha! Well, it's fine, don't be discouraged—it's nothing to be ashamed of."
Misinterpreting his meaning, Shang Yilin assumed he simply lacked the necessary competence.
Zhang Ming rubbed his forehead, feeling even less sure how to explain. If he told her he was so exceptionally talented that he had mastered all his sister's skills and even surpassed her, which was why she threw him off the mountain, Shang Yilin would be far too devastated.
Never mind, best to leave it unsaid. True masters are always lonely, thought Zhang Ming, deciding that silence was golden.
"Zhang Ming, now that you're down the mountain, you have to adapt to life here and find some work to do, or you'll die of boredom. And you need to find a job that actually makes money. You should know that in this world, without money you can't take a single step," Shang Yilin advised with a smile.
Zhang Ming thought it over and realized she was right. Living in this world, a person always needed something to do to have a sense of purpose.
"Sister Shang, aside from a bit of martial arts and some rudimentary medical skills, I really don't know the first thing about anything else. Even though I went to university, spending all those years in the mountains completely disconnected me from society," Zhang Ming said with a wry smile.
Society was developing far too fast; a dozen years was more than enough to make many elites obsolete, let alone an ordinary college student like him.
"Don't worry, you have skills that other people might not. Why don't you open a medical clinic? The hours are flexible, and you can put your strengths to use," Shang Yilin suggested.
"We'll see, Sister Shang. We're home," Zhang Ming said, hurriedly changing the subject.
In truth, it wasn't that he was averse to running a clinic, but deep down he still wanted to explore.
Now that he had both the ability and the financial means, it would truly be a pity not to go out and make his mark.
Even his sister had told him before he left the mountain that traveling widely would benefit his cultivation.
"Alright! I'll hire a few servants later so the estate is looked after, and you can just settle in and enjoy yourself. Once the little girl is healed, Sister Shang will find you a nice wife!" Shang Yilin said with a smile.
"Sister Shang, please don't..." Zhang Ming said, thoroughly embarrassed.
"Why shouldn't I? Your parents aren't around, and since your sister is up on the mountain, Sister Shang is your family. Of course I have to worry about your major life events." Taking on the role of a guardian, Shang Yilin acted both as an elder sister and a senior family member.
Facing such a sister figure, Zhang Ming could only shake his head with a bitter smile.
Upon returning to the estate, they discovered that both Wei Xiaoyu and Li Xinglan were out, likely busy with business.
Shang Yilin insisted that Zhang Ming put on the treasure armor, which would be of little use to him in the short term, and sternly instructed him to wear it at all times unless he was sleeping in the same bed as a woman.
With no other choice, Zhang Ming agreed.
After a simple meal, Shang Yilin announced she was going to look for some servants and told him to get a good rest, then hurried off.
Left all alone in the estate, Zhang Ming had nothing to do.
With time on his hands, Zhang Ming decided to go out for a walk; he wanted to gather some herbs. Although Wei Xiaoyu would recover anyway, supplementing her treatment with a decoction would speed things up.
He was hoping Wei Xiaoyu would get better soon so he could leave, as staying and imposing on them for long wasn't right.
Leaving the estate, Zhang Ming strolled slowly for a couple of hours, asked for directions a few times, and finally found Wancheng's famous Traditional Medicine Street. With clinics packed tightly together, he couldn't help wondering: was this arrangement for the convenience of patients, or just commercial competition?
He wandered around leisurely and chose "Shennong Hall", the clinic with the most customers.
Three walls were lined with medicine drawers, the rich fragrance of herbs filled the air, and silk banners of praise hung thickly across the walls, testifying to glowing reviews.
An elderly physician was attentively taking a pulse for a patient.
Inside the clinic, people waiting to have their prescriptions filled formed a long line.
Zhang Ming waited patiently, carefully observing the veteran doctor's diagnostic process.
After watching for a long time, he realized this old doctor genuinely knew his stuff. His diagnoses were accurate and his choice of medicinal ingredients precise.
Zhang Ming estimated that it would take decades of hard work to reach such a level of proficiency.
Traditional Chinese medicine was different from Western medicine; it relied on experience and unique insights, tailoring treatments to each individual through syndrome differentiation.
Western medicine, on the other hand, depended more on instrumental testing, often prescribing the exact same treatment plan for identical symptoms.
Of course, Western medicine was also formidable when it came to surgery and organ transplants.
When it was Zhang Ming's turn, because he had no prescription, the pharmacy staff refused to dispense any medicine. He insisted on picking out the herbs himself and stated he was willing to bear the consequences.
This angered the master of Shennong Hall, but Zhang Ming didn't care at all.
Just as Zhang Ming was about to step out of the clinic, the door was gently pushed open, and a young woman wheeled an elderly man seated in a specialized wheelchair slowly inside.
Zhang Ming quickly stepped aside to make way, watching as the master, Zhang Jianbin, hurried forward to attentively take the elderly man's pulse.
Before long, Zhang Jianbin's expression grew heavy and his brows furrowed deeply; the situation was clearly dire.
Gravely, he informed the old man that his condition was critical and he likely had only three months left to live.
"Three months? That's plenty. I've lived a worthwhile life," the old man laughed heartily.
Beside him, however, the young woman could no longer hold back her tears; they broke through her defenses, streaming down her face like rain.
"Child, don't cry. Life and death are decreed by fate, why grieve? Come, accompany me outside for some fresh air," the old man gently patted the woman's head, his eyes full of affection.
Fighting through her grief, the woman forced a smile, thanked Zhang Jianbin, and prepared to wheel the old man away.
At that moment, Zhang Ming mustered his courage and called out, "Please wait a moment. I can cure this illness."
Hearing this, Zhang Jianbin furrowed his brows even tighter. "Young man, don't talk nonsense. Human life is no child's play!"
Zhang Ming remained unfazed. "I really can cure it."
A flash of hope crossed the woman's face, but it instantly turned to anger at Zhang Ming's youth, convincing her he was just spouting nonsense.
After all, medical skill depended on the accumulation of years of experience; Zhang Ming was nothing more than a kid, so how could he possess supreme medical expertise?
"If you really can cure him, I'll kowtow to you," Zhang Jianbin said angrily.
"Kowtow isn't necessary, just help me fill the prescription," Zhang Ming said with a smile, turning to the old man. "Grandfather, trust me, I can heal you."
"Don't listen to him, what does he know about medicine? Treating illnesses is no trivial matter," Zhang Jianbin urged anxiously.
Zhang Ming knew in his heart that the old man's liver meridian was malfunctioning—what traditional medicine called an invasion of pathogenic qi, and what Western medicine termed end-stage cirrhosis, a condition with virtually no cure.
Yet if he could cure it, it would simply be a miracle.
Hearing Zhang Jianbin's words, the woman became even more convinced that Zhang Ming was a fraud and refused, "Thank you for your kind intentions, but we don't need it."
Zhang Ming felt somewhat awkward; if his medical skills were made public, they would surely save countless lives, yet now that he was offering his help voluntarily, he was being rejected.
Just as he was about to leave, the old man spoke up. "Granddaughter, fate is decided by the heavens. Since this young brother is willing to try, why not give him a chance? I don't have much time left anyway—what if he really can restore my health?"
"But Grandpa..." The woman wanted to argue, but the old man interrupted her. "Don't worry, could things possibly get any worse than they are now?" He then turned to Zhang Ming. "Young brother, I'm counting on you."
Zhang Ming nodded and pulled several gold needles from his pocket. They were a gift from his sister; although not as miraculous as the divine needles, they were still extraordinary and reputed to be capable of dispelling malevolent forces and curing diseases.