Chapter Thirty-One: Apologize to My Wife

Jiang Yiyao and his wife were stunned for a moment upon hearing Old Qi's words, and then their faces flushed with anger. Old Qi saw this and sighed inwardly; with his experience, how could he not understand? Not only did the couple not believe him, they were furious. On reflection, it made sense—Hong Chen was a young man barely over twenty. Had Old Qi not witnessed Hong Chen's miraculous medical skills himself, he too would have scoffed at such claims if he’d merely heard them secondhand.

Putting himself in Jiang Yiyao's shoes, if someone made such a suggestion when his own son's life hung in the balance, he would have been outraged as well. Truthfully, Old Qi hadn’t wanted to recommend Hong Chen. When greeting Hong Chen earlier, he’d sensed the young man’s detached attitude, clearly unwilling to reveal his talents or meddle in affairs. Yet, the patient was at a critical juncture; neither Old Qi nor Director Chen had much confidence, but someone had to act. In the end, Old Qi was the likelier candidate to be pushed onto the stage. After all, if a Western surgical attempt failed, the patient might not survive the operating table, whereas with traditional methods, even if unsuccessful, the worst outcome would likely be a vegetative state rather than immediate death.

Weighing the options, Old Qi gritted his teeth and decided to vouch for Hong Chen—not out of fear that a failed attempt would bring the Jiang family's wrath upon him. If he worried about such things, he could never have walked the medical path for decades; he had declared patients beyond help before, some with status far surpassing the Jiang family’s heir. The crux was this: when a life was at stake, withholding a better option for any reason would violate his medical ethics. As a traditionalist, Old Qi regarded his reputation as a second life, built solely on two pillars: skill and integrity.

Yet, judging from Jiang Yiyao and his wife’s reaction, persuasion would not be easy. As Old Qi predicted, Jiang Yiyao responded coldly, “I don’t personally believe in traditional medicine.” He didn’t mention Hong Chen, but dismissed the entire field outright—of the three doctors present, only Old Qi practiced the traditional arts. With Jiang Yiyao’s status and restraint, such blunt rejection revealed just how dissatisfied he was.

“Director Chen, do you know of any experts for cranial surgery?” Jiang Yiyao then turned his gaze to Director Chen, who, after glancing at Old Qi’s displeased face, forced a bitter smile and replied, “Mr. Jiang, cranial surgery, especially in the cerebellum, is inherently risky. To be frank, your son’s situation is such that even the country’s most renowned experts would have less than a fifty percent chance, and we have no time to delay.”

As he spoke, Director Chen watched Jiang Yiyao’s face turn grim, and sighed inwardly, bearing immense pressure. “I recommend trying traditional methods. Old Qi and I discussed this before—his greatest concern is the sensitive nerves in your son’s cerebellum. If the needles are even slightly misplaced, it could cause partial memory loss or prolonged coma. However, the probability of the worst outcome is not high.”

At this point, Director Chen held nothing back. Compared to being forced onto the operating table to attempt an impossible task, upsetting Jiang Yiyao now—even being underestimated—didn’t matter. He could not and dared not perform the surgery.

Upon hearing this, Dong Miaoyun could no longer contain herself and suddenly cried out, “No! My son will be fine! Director Chen, Old Qi, Director Shi—you must save him, right?”

Her voice rose sharply, startling everyone in the corridor. Lin Yuan Gui, Shen Huifang, and the others turned pale, their hearts in their throats. The fate of the Jiang family’s young master was tied directly to their own lives. Director Chen and Director Shi, full of bitterness, dared not reply.

“Madam, please calm yourself. Shouting will disturb the patient inside.” Old Qi’s stern face carried a natural authority. The moment Dong Miaoyun heard her son might be affected, she covered her mouth immediately. The elegant mistress of the Jiang family, usually composed and dignified, was now nothing but a bundle of nerves, fragile as a startled bird.

Old Qi turned his gaze back to Jiang Yiyao, speaking candidly, “Mr. Jiang, time is of the essence. If Director Chen performs the surgery, the chances of success are low. My attempt would be no better. Mr. Hong, also a practitioner of traditional medicine, would give your son a greater than sixty percent chance—if he’s willing to try. The choice is yours.”

Jiang Yiyao’s eyes narrowed, and he stood silent for a long moment. He glanced at his bewildered wife, a decisive look flashing in his eyes. He beckoned someone over, issued a few instructions, and that person hurried off towards the elevator, soon returning with Hong Chen and another. Hong Chen understood the situation and didn’t let Lin Yuxin follow.

Seeing Hong Chen’s youth, Director Chen and Director Shi lost what little hope they had, though they said nothing dismissive.

“I’ve heard you’re skilled. How do you compare to Old Qi?” Jiang Yiyao’s gaze was intense, as if trying to peer into Hong Chen’s soul. His attitude was neither friendly nor hostile, but Hong Chen could feel the distrust in his scrutiny. He glanced at Old Qi, whose face was somewhat embarrassed, then smiled lightly and answered, “I don’t know.”

Jiang Yiyao’s face darkened instantly. Old Qi hurried to explain, “Young Hong, the situation is urgent. Mr. Jiang and his wife are simply anxious parents…”

Hong Chen waved him off, “Tell me about the patient’s condition, simply.”

Old Qi quickly summarized the situation. Hong Chen pondered for a moment, then pointed at Jiang Yiyao and his wife, “Come with me.”

He strode ahead, and the couple followed without protest. When others from the Jiang family tried to join, Jiang Yiyao stopped them.

They reached the end of the hall, and Hong Chen spoke bluntly, “Old Qi meddled, so I’m giving you a chance for his sake. If you want me to help, there are two preconditions. First, the car accident must be handled fairly. Your son was chiefly responsible; you must pay to repair the damaged car. The other party was drunk, so they bear some blame—their medical expenses can be waived. They’re useless here; let them leave. Second, my wife was slapped earlier by your subordinate, acting on your cue. So, you must apologize to my wife.”

Dong Miaoyun’s anger surged under Hong Chen’s pointed finger. The first condition was trivial; as long as they were in Qing City, the Jiang family would settle scores eventually—no one could escape their reach. But the second was utterly unacceptable. For the mistress of the Jiang family to apologize to a stranger? In the old days, it would be like a noblewoman bowing to a commoner—completely absurd.

Her words were icy, threatening, “Cure my son and money is no issue. Everything else is off the table. If you fail, I’ll make you pay with your lives.”

Hong Chen ignored her, looking directly at Jiang Yiyao, and said bluntly, “Your wife cares about her dignity; does my wife not deserve the same? Is your son’s life more important, or your wife’s pride? Choose.”

His blunt tone deeply irritated Jiang Yiyao, who nearly lost his temper. Since becoming the head of the Jiang family, he had never been so pressured. Still, he was far calmer than Dong Miaoyun, quickly suppressing his anger and asking, “Are you confident?”

Hong Chen replied serenely, “I don’t know.”

Jiang Yiyao felt as if he’d been struck, his chest filled with frustration, yet he endured and, after a brief struggle, made up his mind. “I accept your conditions.”

“Miaoyun.” Dong Miaoyun looked at him in disbelief. Jiang Yiyao said slowly, “I don’t believe in traditional medicine, but you heard Director Chen and Old Qi—they can’t save Tao’er. Old Qi holds him in such high esteem; at this point, he’s our last hope. Your dignity means nothing compared to our son's life.”

Dong Miaoyun was speechless and calmed down somewhat. After a long exhale, she said, “Fine, I’ll apologize to your wife. If my son isn’t cured…” The threat at the end was swallowed at her husband’s warning glance; only a fool would antagonize a doctor when seeking treatment.

Hong Chen simply shrugged, unconcerned.

Returning to the corridor, Dong Miaoyun, under the astonished gazes of all present, solemnly apologized to Lin Yuxin. Even Lin Yuxin, usually composed, was caught off guard.

Soon after, Jiang Yiyao instructed someone to help Luo Fei repair his car. Hearing they could leave, Lin Yuan Gui and the others felt as if pardoned, hastening to the elevator, leaving only Lin Yuxin behind.

Sensing the questioning look in her eyes, Hong Chen stepped forward and said Old Qi’s assistant was unavailable, so he had to fill in. He told Lin Yuxin to go home first.

Lin Yuxin hesitated, then nodded gently. Before leaving, she said softly, “I’ll wait for you.”