Claire Grant finally understood why the first day of treatment had been scheduled at a hospital.
He thought he was having surgery today.
Mason Lowell took out his phone and pulled up their chat history.
It was true—he had been too impatient, focusing only on the word “surgery” and completely ignoring what she had said before it.
“My apologies.
I overlooked that.”
Gary Lynch breathed a sigh of relief that there would be no surgery.
But he didn’t let the matter drop completely.
Facing Claire Grant, he voiced his reasonable doubts.
“Miss Grant, as far as I know, you’ve only learned a smattering of traditional Chinese medicine in your small hometown.
Can you really take responsibility for what you’re claiming?
We can’t afford to be reckless with Mason’s condition.”
Even though Claire Grant planned to start with traditional Chinese medicine, Gary Lynch still had his reservations.
Claire Grant knew Gary Lynch didn’t trust her.
This was perfectly normal.
No one would place absolute trust in another person right from the start.
She said calmly, “Don’t worry.
I’m not bold enough to toy with the young master of the Lowell Family.
I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t confident.”
Gary Lynch’s specialty was Western medicine; he only knew the basics of its traditional Chinese counterpart.
If Claire Grant was truly going to use traditional methods, there was nothing he could do to intervene.
Sensing their unease, Claire Grant looked over at Mason Lowell and smiled.
“Mason Lowell is my fiancé.
I would sooner harm anyone else in the world than harm him.”
Her words left both men stunned for a moment.
Mason Lowell looked up at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
The word “fiancé” sounded so casual coming from her, not at all intentionally intimate.
He’d always thought of the title as nothing more than the product of a transactional arrangement, completely devoid of emotion.
But hearing the word from her, he found it unexpectedly pleasant.
Mason Lowell tore his gaze away from her and said to Gary Lynch, “Gary, I know you’re worried about me.
But I am willing to trust Miss Grant.”
Gary Lynch stood between them, glancing to his right at Claire Grant, then to his left at Mason Lowell.
‘Ah, what’s the use?
They’re going to be husband and wife eventually.
As an outsider, it’s better for me to stay out of certain things.
Besides, as long as she wasn’t performing some reckless surgery, there was no reason for me to object.’
Gary Lynch fell silent for a moment before clearing his throat.
“Since you’ve chosen to trust Miss Grant, then as your friend, I can only support you.”
Claire Grant opened her medicine kit and asked Mason Lowell, “Well…
shall we begin the treatment?”
Mason Lowell’s hands tightened on the armrests of his wheelchair.
He nodded.
“You may.”
At his words, Claire Grant gave a gentle smile.
She knelt before him, lifted the blanket from his legs, and took a pair of scissors from her kit.
Before Mason Lowell could even process what she was doing, Claire Grant deftly cut open his pant leg.
With a flick of her wrist, she pushed the cut fabric up to the top of his thigh.
With his legs suddenly exposed, Mason Lowell felt a pang of humiliation.
But he knew it was necessary and reflexively turned his head to the side.
Claire Grant saw the humiliation in his eyes perfectly clearly.
‘His legs were actually very nice.
Even though he hadn’t been able to exercise them for a long time, the muscles were still well-defined—after all, it had only been half a year since his injury.
He used to love fitness.’
She smiled, her voice soft as she praised him.
“Your legs…
they’re beautiful.”
Mason Lowell was visibly taken aback.
‘Beautiful?’
He turned his head to look at her, searching her eyes for a hint of jest.
But there was none.
Her eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity, as if she were admiring a perfect work of art.
Meeting her gentle gaze, Mason Lowell felt his heart give a heavy thump.
He opened his mouth, deliberately twisting her meaning.
“Do you think ‘beautiful’ is an appropriate word to describe a man?”
“Then…
handsome?” Her eyes crinkled into a smile, her tone indulgent.
Mason Lowell felt that strange sensation wash over him again.
An inexplicable flutter in his heart.
Claire Grant knew not to push it and stopped teasing him.
She placed both hands on his legs and pressed gently, repeating the motion two or three times.
Then, she rose and looked over at Gary Lynch.
“Could I trouble you to help me get him onto the bed?”
Gary Lynch nodded.
“Of course.”
He helped Mason Lowell lie down on the bed.
Claire Grant, sitting in the chair beside it, opened her medicine kit and selected a silver needle.
Gary Lynch stood to the side, arms folded across his chest, watching.
She held the silver needle between her index and middle fingers.
Once she located the acupuncture point, she pressed the head of the needle with her forefinger, inserting it into Mason Lowell’s leg.
Gary Lynch raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised.
Judging by her form alone, it was quite standard—very similar to the other TCM practitioners he knew.
Mason Lowell lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Claire Grant pressed on an acupoint and looked up at him.
“Do you feel anything?”
Mason Lowell shook his head.
“Nothing.”
This was within her expectations.
Claire Grant took out another silver needle and inserted it into a different acupoint on his leg.
She asked again, “What about here?
Any sensation?”
Mason Lowell blinked, his voice low.
“Nothing.”
Claire Grant took another needle and inserted it, repeating her question.
“Now?”
Mason Lowell pressed his lips together.
He desperately wanted to say something—anything—but his unfeeling legs seemed to be telling him clearly that he was beyond saving.
In response to Claire Grant’s question, he remained silent, his hands at his sides clenched into tight fists.
Seeing him only shake his head without speaking, Claire Grant knew he was starting to despair.
She reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, her voice warm and comforting.
“I’m only asking what you feel so I can determine the specific details of your nerve damage.
The fact that you don’t feel anything doesn’t mean it’s hopeless.
Your condition may be unusual, but you mustn’t be afraid or give up on yourself.
We’ll take the treatment slowly.
We have plenty of time.”
Mason Lowell glanced sideways at the slender hand resting on his own.
The warmth of her palm seeped into the back of his hand, seeming to travel up his arm and straight to his heart.
Her gentle words were like a comforting incantation.
His throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
Claire Grant laughed.
“You’ve said ‘thank you’ to me many times already.
There’s no need to be so formal.”
She then took another needle and continued the acupuncture.
Just as before, she asked Mason what he was feeling with every needle she inserted.
And though his answer was always the same, he was at least able to face his condition with composure now.
Half an hour later, Claire Grant began removing the needles.
“Acupuncture is a gradual treatment,” she explained.
“You’ll need sessions two or three times a week.
I’ve also prepared an herbal prescription for you.
Have your assistant get it filled at a traditional pharmacy.
I’ll message you to schedule your next session based on your recovery.”
Gary Lynch had watched the entire interaction between Claire Grant and Mason Lowell.
Her practiced technique and calm demeanor suddenly made him feel that he might have underestimated her medical abilities.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that their dynamic was strange.
Also, he felt as if he had heard Claire Grant’s voice somewhere before.
It sounded familiar.
Once Claire Grant had removed all the needles and finished her instructions, Gary Lynch, who had been standing by all along, asked her, “Have we met before?”