Have You Also Come Because of the Little Miracle Doctor's Fame?

"But she's just so young—how could she possibly handle this? Where is Dr. Shen? I need to find Dr. Shen Daozhang. This is absolutely unacceptable!"

The master's health was of utmost importance. How could it be entrusted to an intern doctor? If something went wrong, who would take responsibility?

Ignoring Mr. Zhao's attempts to stop him, the middle-aged man stormed out of the private waiting room, intending to locate Ji Chuxing. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw her administering acupuncture to an elderly woman.

He recognized her immediately—she was the matriarch of the Feng family from South City. The old lady had been frail and bedridden for two years, yet here she was, sitting upright under Ji Chuxing's care.

While he stood there in stunned silence, Ji Chuxing continued her work with precision. Several young doctors surrounded her, watching intently as she slowed her movements to explain each step.

"When treating different patients," she said calmly, "the same acupoints require adjustments in needle depth, pressure, and duration. There's no universal standard—it varies based on the individual and their condition."

"We understand, Dr. Ji," the young doctors murmured respectfully.

Ji Chuxing nodded and proceeded to elaborate on a few more points. Five minutes later, she carefully removed the needles from the elderly woman.

What happened next left the middle-aged man speechless. The Feng matriarch, who had been confined to her bed for two years, sat up briskly, her eyes bright with vitality. "Young healer, how am I doing?"

Ji Chuxing replied evenly, "Return in seven days for another session. I'll prescribe you a formula to aid your recovery. Continue the exercises I've taught you—two hours daily, divided into segments—and don't slack off."

"Thank you, young healer," the old woman said warmly.

It was only then that she noticed the dumbfounded man standing nearby. She squinted at him, recognition dawning. "Ah, isn't that Manager Zhao? Are you here because of the young healer too?"

Manager Zhao nodded numbly. "Madam Feng, are you… feeling better?"

"Don't call me Madam Feng—I'm not that old!" she huffed, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Well, I'm not fully recovered yet, but I can walk now. Thanks to the young healer, I feel much improved. In a couple of days, I'll visit your mistress for a game of mahjong. You have excellent taste, finding such a talented healer."

Manager Zhao was utterly speechless. Bedridden for two years and now walking again—and already planning mahjong games? He couldn't process it, even forgetting why he'd come out in the first place.

By the time Ji Chuxing finished with her patient, it was exactly 4:30 PM. She washed her hands and walked past Manager Zhao without a glance, heading back toward the private treatment room.

Inside, the pale-faced middle-aged man sat slumped in a chair. His once commanding presence was diminished by the pallor of illness.

Manager Zhao snapped out of his daze and hurried after her.

Zhao Zhonghai managed a faint smile when he saw her. "Dr. Ji, I didn't expect you to be so young."

Ji Chuxing simply nodded and gestured for him to extend his wrist. At that moment, Manager Zhao burst in, his face flushed with agitation.

Unperturbed, Ji Chuxing closed her eyes briefly, focusing on the pulse beneath her fingers. Less than a minute later, her eyes snapped open, locking onto Zhao Zhonghai's face.

"You've been poisoned. Did you know that?"

"Poisoned?" Both Manager Zhao and Zhao Zhonghai were visibly shocked.

Five years ago, Zhao Zhonghai's health began to decline. He had consulted nearly every hospital in China, but no cause was found. Doctors attributed his symptoms to overwork and stress. He tried various tonics, but they proved ineffective. Recently, his fatigue had worsened, culminating in a fainting episode at the office. Repeated tests still showed nothing conclusive, but all agreed that his body might deteriorate further in the coming years.

"How is that possible? We've visited every hospital in China, and none detected any signs of poisoning."

Ji Chuxing turned to the astonished manager, her expression unreadable. "You're free to doubt me."

Manager Zhao fell silent. Zhao Zhonghai gave him a sidelong glance, prompting the manager to stammer, "I apologize, young healer. I didn't mean to question you—it's just so unexpected."

Even blood tests had failed to detect anything, yet here she was, diagnosing poisoning. What kind of mysterious substance could evade detection?

Ji Chuxing nodded thoughtfully. "Blood tests aren't definitive. Your pulse may seem stable, but it's actually highly erratic."

Zhao Zhonghai's expression grew grave. "Can you identify the poison in my body?"

Ji Chuxing frowned, retrieved a silver needle, and drew a drop of blood from his fingertip. "I'll need some time to analyze this. Please wait."

She left the room with the sample, leaving Manager Zhao to finally speak. "Master, you…"

Zhao Zhonghai waved him off, forcing a weak smile. "Don't tell Feifei about this."

Manager Zhao reluctantly agreed, his mind heavy with the long-standing rift between father and daughter. Bitterness and anger welled up within him. "It must be them!"

He was referring to Zhao Zhonghai's younger brother, who had always resented his control over the family business. Their rivalry had caused numerous crises within the Zhao family.

When Zhao Zhonghai learned of his declining health, he decided to distance himself from Feifei to protect her, deepening their estrangement. Now, even in this state, he refused to let her know.

"Feifei is grown now and happier outside the family. My younger brother will stop at nothing. I fear for her safety. But enough of that. I never expected the young healer to possess such skill."

Manager Zhao recounted what he had witnessed earlier—the Feng matriarch's miraculous recovery.

Zhao Zhonghai looked impressed. "Truly, the younger generation surpasses the old."

Ji Chuxing returned twenty minutes later. Zhao Zhonghai watched her eagerly.

"The results are in," she said without preamble. "It's poisoning—or rather, a form of neural damage. It slowly corrodes the nervous system, impairs bodily functions, accelerates organ aging, and ultimately leads to death."

Zhao Zhonghai clenched his fists tightly.

"Is there a cure?"

Ji Chuxing frowned. "Not yet, but I can temporarily slow the progression while I work on a solution. Tell me, did you encounter any unusual substances around the time your symptoms began?"

Zhao Zhonghai thought hard but couldn't recall anything significant from five years ago. He shook his head slowly.

Ji Chuxing's voice remained calm. "I suspect there may be a unique substance in your environment—one that emits specific radiation over prolonged exposure, damaging your nerves and causing these symptoms."

Zhao Zhonghai wracked his brain for any anomalies from five years ago but found none. Even back then, when his health first declined, he had scrutinized his daily life and found nothing unusual.

Unable to glean further information, Ji Chuxing fell into deep contemplation. Could such a substance exist on Earth? Perhaps—even if it originated elsewhere, traces might remain.