In Dr.
Ming’s examination room, noon sunlight entered through the tall window on the right side of the room.
The white curtains were half open, just enough to make the room feel more alive than an ordinary hospital room.
The scent of antiseptic still lingered, somewhat mixed with the aroma of warm tea freshly brewed on the small table near the bookshelf.
Qingyu sat in the patient chair.
The nurse had already checked her vital signs and entered the results into the current visit record.
Xiao Lan stood near the door, holding a small bag.
Her eyes still moved anxiously toward Qingyu from time to time.
Father Lin had not come today.
According to Auntie Yue, a sudden problem had appeared at the company headquarters involving disrupted distribution channels.
Several shipments of raw materials had been held up without clear reason since last night.
Qingyu had not thought much of it at the time.
Still, the words “distribution channels” remained in her mind.
Not long after, the examination room door opened.
Dr.
Ming entered carrying a thin gray folder and a tablet in his left hand.
As usual, his steps were calm and precise.
The sleeves of his white coat were slightly wrinkled, a sign that he had not truly stopped working since morning.
He sat down without saying much.
He opened the folder containing Qingyu’s medical data and checked several pages of examination results again.
Then his gaze moved to the tablet beside the desk.
A few seconds passed in silence.
Then Dr.
Ming let out a short breath.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
Qingyu slowly raised her eyes.
“In what way, Doctor?”
Dr.
Ming turned toward her.
His gaze was sharp as usual, without suspicion or accusation.
He looked like someone confronting data that contradicted everything he knew.
“Your latest lab results,” he said, pointing at the tablet screen.”Several inflammatory and toxin-related markers dropped sharply.
Liver and kidney functions are almost back to normal.
Your blood circulation is also far more stable.”
He paused briefly.
“And this level of improvement isn’t normal.”
His finger tapped one of the graphs on the screen.
“It’s as if your body suddenly started repairing itself.”
Xiao Lan swallowed softly, while Qingyu remained calm.
Dr.
Ming leaned back in his chair.
“For a patient with a history of chronic damage like yours, recovery like this should take months.
Even then, only if the main cause has been completely stopped.”
His gaze returned to Qingyu.
“It should not be possible this quickly.”
The room fell silent for a moment.
From outside, the faint sound of a medical trolley passing through the corridor could be heard.
Qingyu answered in an ordinary tone.
“The medicine from Doctor helped.”
Dr.
Ming immediately shook his head.
“Not to this extent.”
His voice remained flat, but it carried clear certainty.
“I know exactly what I gave you.
Blood-strengthening supplements, vitamins, organ function support, and basic recovery therapy.”
He closed the folder and adjusted his glasses.
“None of them can explain a change this fast.”
Qingyu did not answer immediately.
She knew the doctor before her was not foolish.
Dr.
Ming might not understand qi or poisons from another world, but he had enough experience to realize that this recovery was not normal.
Dr.
Ming looked at her for several seconds longer before finally asking carefully,
“Qingyu… have you been doing anything outside the hospital treatment?”
His tone did not sound like an interrogation.
Beside the door, Xiao Lan immediately stiffened.
Her fingers gripped the strap of the bag a little tighter.
Miss Qingyu had indeed drunk an herbal concoction last week.
Qingyu lowered her gaze, as if choosing the safest answer.
Then she said in a quiet voice,
“My mother left behind some herbal notes.”
Dr.
Ming’s brows lifted.
“Notes?”
“Yes.
Old recipes,” Qingyu continued.
“They’re incomplete.
Most of them are just observations and notes about plant combinations.
She paused for a moment before adding,
“At first, I only tried them to reduce fatigue and dizziness.”
Everything she said was technically true.
She had indeed used herbs.
The actual method was merely far more complicated than an ordinary herbal decoction.
Dr.
Ming did not interrupt her at all.
He only listened.
“After that,” Qingyu continued, “my body began to feel lighter.”
The explanation sounded reasonable enough within modern medical logic.
It did not mention qi or meridian purification techniques at all.
Dr.
Ming folded his arms across his chest.
“What herbs?”
“Mostly circulation and recovery herbs,” Qingyu answered.
“Some were planted by my mother.
Some I adjusted according to my body’s condition.”
“You modified the recipe?”
“A little.”
“Based on what?”
“My body’s reaction.”
Qingyu’s answer sounded simple.
Yet that was precisely what made Dr.
Ming fall silent for longer.
He had worked as a doctor for years.
He had met patients who read a few health articles and suddenly believed they could become medical experts.
He had also met people who trusted strange treatments with no basis.
But Qingyu did not give that impression.
The way she spoke was too calm and measured, as though she truly understood what she was doing.
A few seconds passed in a heavy silence.
Then slowly, Dr.
Ming gave a faint smile.
The small smile of a researcher who had found something interesting.
“Your mother…” he said, tapping the folder lightly in his hand, “wasn’t merely someone who liked herbs, was she?”
Qingyu did not answer right away.
Memories of Lin Qingyu’s mother surfaced faintly in her mind.
A quiet woman.
Someone who rarely raised her voice.
Yet she always wrote down many small things that other people ignored.
“She often wrote things other people thought were unimportant,” Qingyu finally answered.
Dr.
Ming nodded slowly.
Strangely, that answer felt reasonable to him.
Many discoveries had started with people noticing details others ignored.
He opened the gray folder again.
“In that case,” he said, “I want to monitor your recovery regularly.”
His expression became serious again.
“Not only as a patient.”
He paused briefly, then continued honestly,
“But also as a case worth studying.”
Xiao Lan immediately turned toward Qingyu.
Her expression was clearly wary.
Dr.
Ming seemed to notice her reaction, because he quickly raised one hand slightly.
“Relax,” he said lightly.
“I won’t do any strange experiments.”
His tone even carried a little amusement.
“I only want to compare the clinical data with the herbal method you’re using.
That’s all.”
He looked at Qingyu again.
“And if you’re willing someday… I’d like to see your mother’s notes.”
Qingyu remained silent for a few seconds.
“If there’s a chance,” she finally replied.
Dr.
Ming smiled faintly.
“I’ll wait.”
He then stood from his chair, signaling that the examination was over.
But before they left, he seemed to remember something.
“One more thing.”
His hand slowly closed the folder.
“About the Snow Blossom Tea you used to drink.”
Qingyu’s gaze changed slightly.
“Stop drinking it.”
Dr.
Ming’s voice was far firmer this time.
“Whatever it contains, your body always shows a poor reaction after drinking it.
The symptoms may not appear immediately, but the data is clear enough.”
Qingyu nodded lightly.
“Father has already forbidden me from drinking it.”
“That’s good,” Dr.
Ming said without hesitation.
For the first time since entering the room, Xiao Lan truly let out a breath of relief.
Not long afterward, they left the examination room.
In the hospital corridor, nurses walked quickly while carrying medical tablets.
Several patients’ families sat in the waiting area.
Footsteps and automatic doors blended into the familiar noise of a large hospital.
Everything looked normal on the surface.
But on the small television hanging in the corner of the corridor, the noon news was playing silently.
The scrolling text at the bottom of the screen caught Qingyu’s attention for a moment.
Mysterious poisoning cases found in several districts.
Number of victims remains low.
Authorities have yet to find a connection between the cases.
Qingyu stopped for the briefest moment.
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
Poisoning again.
The news was still not serious enough to cause public panic.
But to Qingyu, the pattern was appearing too often.
Xiao Lan followed her gaze.
“Miss?”
“It’s nothing,” Qingyu replied calmly.
Then she continued walking away from the corridor.
That evening, at Lin Group headquarters, Father Lin stood silently in front of his office window.
The city sky had begun turning orange.
The reflection of the sunset entered through the tall glass behind his large desk.
The call in his hand had just ended.
Dr.
Ming’s report had been brief, but clear enough.
Abnormal recovery.
Modified herbal recipe from her mother.
Drastic improvement in body response.
Father Lin closed his eyes for a moment.
He did not know when his own daughter had begun to feel unfamiliar to him.
Or perhaps… not unfamiliar.
Perhaps he had simply gone too long without truly looking at her.
He walked slowly toward his desk and opened one of the lower drawers.
Inside was an old dark wooden box.
It looked ordinary.
His fingers stopped for several seconds before touching it.
He had not opened it in years.
A box left behind by his late first wife.
Old memories slowly surfaced.
The scent of medicinal herbs.
His wife’s hands, always stained with ink from writing too many notes.
And her gentle voice, often saying things he had never truly taken seriously.
“The human body is more honest than we think.”
Father Lin stared at the wooden box for a long time.
For the first time in years, a thought became clear in his mind.
Perhaps he had ignored what his wife left behind for too long.
And perhaps…
His daughter was not as simple as he had always believed.
Night began to fall when Qingyu returned to her room.
The window was slightly open.
Cool evening wind entered slowly, moving the white curtain beside the bed.
Qingyu sat by the window, looking at the darkening sky.
She savored the current state of her body, which was improving more with each passing day.
It was enough for her to move to the next stage.
Deep inside her, one certainty settled quietly.
The truth did not need to be announced.
It only needed to be allowed to surface…
Little by little.