Public Consultation: A Comeback That Hits Three Floors High
Lin Wanqing kept her word. She didn’t leave. She checked into the military guest house and spent her days parading around the compound—handing out capital pastries to officers one day, chatting with army wives the next. In three days, almost the entire base knew: the eldest Miss Lin from the capital is here, rumoured to be Commander Lu’s fiancée.
Su Qing didn’t mind. She went about her days as usual—seeing patients, studying medicine with Shen Henian, sorting supplies in her space, slipping over to the black market every few days. But Lin Wanqing clearly had other plans.
On the fourth day, she made her move.
She “accidentally” tripped right outside the military clinic, twisting her ankle just enough to need attention. The army doctor examined her: “Mild sprain. Apply ointment and rest for two days.”
Lin Wanqing shook her head.
“I heard there’s a very skilled Special Consultant here?” Her voice carried perfectly across the room. “Comrade Su, isn’t it? Ask her to take a look—my ankle hurts terribly. If ordinary doctors can’t help, let’s bring in the expert.”
The army doctors frowned. Ordinary doctors can’t help? It was deliberate—an obvious trap: bring Su Qing out in public, then humiliate her. Everyone saw it.
When word reached Su Qing, she was pouring tea for Shen Henian.
“Master, someone’s asked for me by name at the clinic.”
“The capital girl?” Shen Henian blew steam from his cup. “Going?”
“Of course.” Su Qing smiled. “She’s practically holding her cheek out. It’d be rude not to return the favour.”
Shen Henian laughed loud. “That’s my girl. Remember—if she wants to embarrass you, you give her double. Use her own trick against her.”
When Su Qing arrived, the clinic was packed. News travelled fast—the capital heiress challenging Comrade Su drew crowds like bees to honey. Everyone wanted to see how this would play out.
Lin Wanqing sat on the examination bed, ankle wrapped in gauze, sipping tea with perfect grace. She set her cup down as Su Qing entered.
“Comrade Su, thank you for coming.” Her smile was flawless. “They say you’re an exceptional healer. The doctor says my ankle is fine, but it still feels wrong. I’d like your expert opinion.”
Polite on the surface, deliberate underneath: prove you’re not a fraud, or I’ll expose you here and now.
Su Qing stepped forward. “Let me see your ankle.”
Lin Wanqing extended her foot. Su Qing crouched, resting two fingers lightly over the joint. Closed her eyes. Three seconds. Opened them.
“Miss Lin—you have sprained your ankle. Mild ligament strain, no bone damage. The doctor is correct. Rest and ointment will fix it in two days.”
She stood up, brushing her hands. “If that’s all, I’ll—”
“Wait.” Lin Wanqing’s smile sharpened. “That’s it? You touched it for three seconds and made a diagnosis? That seems… rather careless.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. This was it—her opening to question Su Qing’s competence.
Su Qing stood still, calm as ever. “Not thorough enough for you?”
“Surely a proper examination takes longer?” Lin Wanqing pressed gently. “What if something is missed?”
Su Qing smiled. “Very well. Let’s be thorough.”
She crouched again—this time moving her fingers to Lin Wanqing’s wrist. Closed her eyes. Ten seconds. When she opened them, her expression had shifted—no longer soft, but knowing.
“Miss Lin—your ankle is fine. But your body… shows other signs.”
Lin Wanqing tensed. “What signs?”
Su Qing glanced around—twenty or thirty people were listening closely. “This… might not be appropriate to say in public.”
The words hung like a stone. Inappropriate? What could be wrong with her? Curiosity turned to whispers.
Lin Wanqing flushed. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing at all.” Su Qing looked perfectly innocent. “Just a medical observation. If you don’t mind—” She lowered her voice just enough that everyone nearby could still hear clearly—
“Your pulse shows long-term insomnia, constrained liver qi, and weak digestion. Have you been feeling anxious? Lost your appetite lately?”
A pause.
“And… is your cycle irregular?”
Lin Wanqing’s face burned scarlet. The room went dead silent—then someone stifled a snort.
She shot to her feet. “You—!”
“I’m only stating what your pulse tells me.” Su Qing looked entirely sincere. “You asked me to be thorough. If I’m wrong, I apologise. But if I’m right—” She tilted her head gently. “You really should take better care of yourself. I can write you a simple, inexpensive herbal prescription.”
Lin Wanqing’s lips trembled. Every word was true—she’d been anxious, sleepless, listless, for months—all over Lu Zhanye. She’d never even seen a doctor for it. And this village girl had worked it all out in ten seconds, in front of thirty people.
She was trapped. Admit it, and everyone would know what was eating her. Deny it, and she’d look petty and defensive. Su Qing hadn’t shouted, hadn’t insulted, hadn’t done anything but examine her properly. And yet Lin Wanqing had never been more humiliated in her life.
She fled the clinic in silence, the crowd parting out of awkward pity.
Su Qing stood at the door watching her leave. A low voice came from behind: “You did that on purpose.”
She turned. Lu Zhanye leaned against a poplar tree, hands in his pockets, unreadable.
“I have no idea what you mean.” Her face was pure innocence. “I was just doing a thorough examination.”
“Thorough enough to announce her cycle problems to the whole base?”
“She asked me to be thorough.”
Lu Zhanye stared at her for three seconds. Then—so faint it was almost invisible—the corner of his mouth lifted. Gone in half a second. He straightened up and walked away. Two steps on, his voice drifted back:
“Well done.”
That night, Lin Wanqing sat before her mirror, wiping off her makeup. Her reflection was still beautiful—but today she had lost. Not in looks. In poise. In skill.
She tossed the cotton pad into the bin, closed her eyes, and picked up a pen. To the Lin family in the capital, she wrote one line:
“Dig up everything on Su Qing. Every detail. I need to know every weakness she has.”