Although the male internet celebrity was short and stout, occupying one and a half seats by himself, his online alias was “Gao Shuai.” At that moment, he sat in the back of the taxi, eagerly scrolling through comments from his viewers, growing more and more delighted.
“Hey, girl, want to say hello to the family in my livestream?”
Shen Jiang didn’t turn around, but she didn’t refuse either. Her voice was icy and languid as she spoke: “You’re livestreaming? Anyone watching?”
In truth, the moment Shen Jiang got into the car, she had eagerly opened his livestream—on mute.
Her initially uneasy heart relaxed as she saw the 560,000 viewers online, and she couldn’t help but curl her lips slightly.
Gao Shuai chuckled: “Of course there are! Quite a few, actually. Some even said that without seeing your face, your voice sounds really nice.”
Shen Jiang propped her chin on her right hand, gazing indifferently out the window as the scenery flew by. Her slightly lowered eyelashes concealed the emotions in her eyes.
The chubby internet celebrity hadn’t lied—many in the livestream had indeed said that, though it was best to ignore the follow-up comment: “What’s the use of a nice voice? The moment I see this woman’s face, I feel like throwing up last night’s dinner.”
The car carrying Old Mrs. Shan and her family trailed closely behind Shen Jiang’s vehicle. Old Mrs. Shan was astonished: “Is that wretched girl really bold enough to go to the hospital?”
Shen Jiang had a clear goal in mind. After getting out of the car, she didn’t wait for Old Mrs. Shan and the others at all, heading straight inside. Besides the few streamers who had followed her earlier, many other small-time streamers from Nanze City had spontaneously gathered at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital. Several groups converged from all directions, arriving at the hospital’s entrance around the same time.
These small streamers had nearly been driven mad with envy, watching such a massive wave of attention fall into the laps of Gao Shuai and the others. None of them had expected this farce to take an unexpected turn mid-scene—and now, here was their chance!
The hospital security guards, sensing something amiss, hurried over to intercept, but they only managed to stop the last group—Old Mrs. Shan and her daughter-in-law. To the guards, these were the ones who looked most likely to be there to cause trouble.
“Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing here?”
As soon as Shen Jiang stepped into the outpatient hall of the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, she was met with decor that was classically elegant, grand yet simple. The scent of Traditional Chinese Medicine wafted toward her, mingling with a soothing sandalwood fragrance. Combined with the prominent row of expert introductions displayed in the center, it all evoked an unconscious sense of reassurance.
She thought expressionlessly: When your skills are lacking, you resort to all sorts of gimmicks to attract customers.
Nothing like Mingxintang, with its simple, unadorned decor, relying solely on word-of-mouth from patients to build its reputation. Grandma was so busy every day she barely had time to catch her breath.
After studying the densely packed introductions for a while, Shen Jiang finally reached a conclusion: the best doctor here seemed to be that specially appointed expert from A Province?
The list of credentials following that person’s name was the longest.
“Specializes in various difficult and complicated conditions: chronic gastritis, gastric ulcers, cholecystitis, chronic bronchitis, gynecological issues, menopausal syndrome, mammary gland hyperplasia… Began studying medicine at age 8, descendant of a family of Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioners, Ph.D. graduate from A University, studied under the renowned Old TCM doctor, Mr. Yao Guangtang…” Shen Jiang skimmed the details casually and didn’t bother reading further.
As luck would have it, this very expert was holding consultations at the hospital that afternoon. Without hesitation, Shen Jiang picked this top specialist as her target for the day.
Upon hearing that someone had brought a group of online streamers to cause trouble at the hospital, even disrupting the specially appointed Expert Dong, Director Huang of the Traditional Chinese Medicine department broke out in a cold sweat.
This was an expert they had gone through great pains to recruit from the provincial level, who only came for half a day each week—more valuable than all the doctors in their department combined. If this medical disturbance were to harm or upset him, Director Huang might as well quit!
Shen Jiang’s demand was simple: she wanted the hospital to issue a certificate proving that her grandmother had neither misdiagnosed nor prescribed the wrong medication.
Expert Dong, in his fifties with a square-jawed face, frowned and sternly shooed her away: “Please don’t disturb me while I’m seeing patients. If you have issues, take them to the medical affairs office.”
Seeing his serious expression—devoid of arrogance, merely pressed for time—Shen Jiang was reminded of someone. She dropped her cynical demeanor and said earnestly, “Dr. Dong, my grandmother is also a Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner. Now she’s been falsely accused of incompetence leading to death, and the patient’s family assaulted her, landing her in the ICU. I just want to seek justice for her.”
Dr. Dong’s brow furrowed deeply. After a moment’s hesitation, he began, “Did you bring the medical case? I’ll first—”
Before he could finish, a breathless Director Huang rushed in with several doctors from the office. Huang had been shouting before entering: “Security! Security! Get these people out of here! Don’t disrupt hospital operations!”
Upon entering the consultation room, Director Huang immediately apologized to the expert: “Sorry, Dr. Dong, for the disturbance. I’ll have them removed right away.” He shot a meaningful glance at the young doctors, who quickly understood and moved toward Shen Jiang and the streamers.
“Wait, I’d like to see the medical case she mentioned first,” Dr. Dong interjected.
After examining it, Dr. Dong’s eyes widened in surprise.
While Expert Dong reviewed the case, Director Huang grasped the purpose of their visit and became energized: “Dr. Dong, there’s no need to look further. Yesterday, health bureau officials and police came regarding this medical disturbance case. Our hospital has already issued an appraisal certificate confirming that the Mingxintang Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner indeed misdiagnosed!”
His words were heavy with finality, unequivocally placing blame on the practitioner.
Dr. Dong looked up at Director Huang in surprise. Huang continued, “This patient was treated in our department—we have his medical records. Yesterday we showed you his case file and Mingxintang’s prescription, remember?”
Under these circumstances, there seemed no need to review the case further. Dr. Dong set Shen Jiang’s medical case on the table, pulled his insulated cup steeping with goji berries from beside the computer, and took a sip to moisten his throat.
“I sympathize with your grandmother’s situation, but you should take this matter to the police.”
Old Mrs. Shan arrived at the doorway with her daughter-in-law, pushing through the crowd of onlookers just in time to witness the doctors ejecting the group.
Perfect timing. Watching that wretched girl being humiliated filled Old Mrs. Shan with immense satisfaction. Not just her—even netizens watching the live stream felt this was the expected outcome they’d been waiting for, having stayed in the live broadcast room specifically for this moment!
Shen Jiang was so angry she laughed. She had actually thought highly of this so-called expert just moments ago, but it turned out he was just another half-baked quack trying to muddle through. How dare he put on such airs with such incompetence.
“Don’t touch me! With all these cameras recording, I’ll sue you for sexual harassment,” Shen Jiang warned a white-coated man in his thirties or forties standing before her. He seemed stunned by her words and indeed didn’t dare lay a hand on her.
Shen Jiang glared fiercely at Director Huang and demanded loudly, “Just because the patient usually feels cold and has pain in their waist and knees, you assume it’s Deficiency Cold?”
“What else could it be?”
“So you usually diagnose patients based solely on their complaints? Treating the head when there’s a headache, treating the foot when there’s a footache, is that it?” Shen Jiang retorted sharply.
Amid the overwhelming barrage of comments in the live stream, a few stood out: “This girl isn’t wrong about that. How can Traditional Chinese Medicine focus only on surface symptoms?” But these comments were quickly buried.
Director Huang looked at her as if she were a fool. “Of course, that’s not how Traditional Chinese Medicine works. But when you have internal heat, would you feel cold? If you can’t even get such basic common sense right, I don’t know how you usually diagnose patients.”
Shen Jiang sneered, “In our small clinic, unlike you all who can rely on Western medical equipment for scans and blood tests and dare to treat even without identifying the disease mechanism, we have to rely on pulse-taking experience accumulated day after day for syndrome differentiation.”
Director Huang said disdainfully, “Cut the empty talk. I just want to know how you could diagnose this cold-fearing patient as having a heat syndrome.”
Shen Jiang’s demeanor sharpened, her tone icy. “Then I’ll teach you this lesson. Listen carefully! The pulse condition is divided into three levels: superficial, middle, and deep. This patient’s pulse is Pulse Hidden Below.”
Director Huang didn’t quite understand and instinctively asked, “What nonsense is that?”
Shen Jiang looked at him with a mix of pity and contempt, as if he were a failing student, and broke down the concept for him: “In Traditional Chinese Medicine, the pressure applied when taking the pulse is crucial. Initially, light pressure is used to detect the superficial pulse. If the patient has an external condition, the pulse will be very noticeable at this stage. Then, moderate pressure is applied—this is the middle level, where most people’s pulse conditions are felt. Finally, heavy pressure is used for the deep level, which diagnoses internal diseases.
“This patient’s pulse is Pulse Hidden Below, meaning it isn’t even detected with deep pressure. You have to press even harder, pushing against the tendons and bones to feel it. This is a classic case of ‘Internal Fire Stagnation, unable to disperse.'”
Expert Dong listened as Shen Jiang explained everything clearly and methodically but remained silent.
Of course, he knew what Pulse Hidden Below meant—it was a theory proposed by pulse study expert Li Zhongzi. However, translating those four simple words into practice was a pinnacle that most TCM practitioners could never achieve in their lifetime, a challenge of almost inhuman difficulty. Even with his current level, he couldn’t accomplish it. Could a doctor from a small local clinic really manage it?
Could she be some master hiding in plain sight? Expert Dong couldn’t help but ask, “What’s your grandmother’s name?”
Shen Jiang shot a glance at the medical case on the table.
The implication was clear: Can’t you see for yourself?
Expert Dong reluctantly picked up the medical case on the table and began examining it with great seriousness: Shen Anlian? He had never heard of this person. Judging by the girl’s age, her grandmother must be quite elderly. If what was recorded in this medical case was true, then her grandmother’s skill would be at the level of a nationally top-tier Great Master – such a figure shouldn’t be unknown in their professional circles.
“Impossible… This shouldn’t be,” he murmured.
Shen Jiang raised an eyebrow: “Just because you can’t do it, you assume others can’t either? Isn’t that rather narrow-minded of you.”
Expert Dong nearly laughed in frustration: “Little girl, only when you truly master Traditional Chinese Medicine will you understand how difficult syndrome differentiation is for a TCM practitioner.”
Shen Jiang sighed.
There’s an old saying among the people: The older the TCM doctor, the more valued they become. To these TCM practitioners older than her, their rank was like university professors, while she was at best an elementary student.
They completely refused to accept guidance from a young TCM doctor like her. Even if she broke down the answers and spoon-fed them, they not only couldn’t understand but outright refused to understand.
She turned to the white-coated doctors present: “Is the Doctor who treated Patient Shan Gui here?”
Seeing everyone turn to look at Director Huang, Shen Jiang immediately understood. She asked Director Huang: “Besides being afraid of cold, did this Patient Shan Gui usually like drinking hot water? What color was his urine? Tell me about it.”
Expert Dong was taken aback.
Director Huang was very dissatisfied with her imperious attitude – was he her student or something? But under Expert Dong’s expectant gaze, he thought back to yesterday’s case. Those details weren’t recorded, and he had even forgotten what the patient looked like – after all, that was from two months ago.
“If he’s afraid of cold, of course he would prefer hot water. As for urine… naturally it would be clear and copious.”
Nonsense! Shen Jiang nearly laughed in anger at this incompetent, fat-faced quack. With this level of skill, and he’s a Director?
The little girl in the middle-aged woman’s arms timidly spoke to her mother: “Grandpa doesn’t like hot water! Grandpa hates drinking hot water the most!”
The middle-aged woman quickly covered her daughter’s mouth, but it was too late. This happened during a quiet moment in the room, and everyone heard the little girl’s words clearly.
All eyes in the room turned toward them.