Yang Zijie skillfully placed the medicine packet on the old table in the main room, preparing to explain the details of decocting the medicine.
These days, he has done his best for Zhang Zhihe's wife's illness, although the effect is minimal, he believes that his medical skills are among the best in the surrounding area.
However, Zhang Zhihe did not take the medicine bag as usual. Instead, he stepped forward and stopped him with a hint of apology and hesitation.
"Dr. Yang, thank you so much for your trouble... but you should take this medicine back. My wife... she doesn't need it anymore." Zhang Zhihe's tone was complicated, a mixture of gratitude and relief.
Yang Zijie frowned, and his face instantly darkened.
"You don't need it anymore?" What does that mean?
His heart skipped a beat. His first thought was that Zhang Zhihe thought his wife was beyond saving, or... that he thought the medicine was too expensive and didn't want to waste any more money!
A surge of anger rushed to Yang Zijie's head!
He slammed his hand on the table, making the medicine packet bounce.
"Zhang Zhihe! What do you mean by this!" Yang Zijie's eyes widened, his voice suddenly rising, filled with anger.
“Your wife was so sick, she was practically on her last breath! I, Yang Zijie, ran around doing everything I could to find the cheapest remedy to keep her alive, and now you’re telling me it’s no longer needed?!”
He pointed at Zhang Zhihe's nose and cursed angrily.
"So you're starting to worry about the cost of those few medicines?! Huh?! The person isn't even dead yet, and you're already thinking about saving money?! Let me tell you, this is already the lowest price! Don't you have any conscience?! That's your wife who's spent most of her life with you!"
Yang Zijie grew angrier as he spoke, feeling that Zhang Zhihe was utterly heartless.
Zhang Zhihe's face changed several times after being scolded. He realized that Yang Zijie had misunderstood, so he quickly waved his hand and anxiously explained.
"Dr. Yang! You've misunderstood! It's a huge misunderstanding! It's not about money! It really isn't about money!"
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the agitated traditional Chinese medicine doctor down: "It was my wife... her illness is cured! Now she just needs to rest and recuperate!"
"All done?" Yang Zijie scoffed in anger. In his eyes, Zhang Zhihe was now like a heartless fool.
"Zhang Zhihe, are you trying to fool me, Yang Zijie, like a three-year-old? What kind of illness is that? It's tuberculosis! It's been dragging on for so many years, it's almost too late! Even I can barely keep it going, and you think it's cured? If you're going to make up a lie, at least make it believable!"
He has practiced medicine for many years; what disease hasn't he seen?
Can such a chronic and deep-seated problem really be cured so easily?
"I think you're just trying to save money, making up such a lame excuse! You're so heartless! You'd risk your own wife's life just to save a few bucks! You're utterly ruthless!"
Yang Zijie was so angry that he was trembling all over. His finger was shaking as he pointed at Zhang Zhihe, and his eyes were full of contempt and anger.
Zhang Zhihe was subjected to a barrage of insults and was unable to defend himself.
He knew that the misunderstanding would never be cleared up unless he told the truth.
He sighed, a hint of helplessness on his face.
"Dr. Yang, please calm down and let me explain." Zhang Zhihe lowered his posture and spoke sincerely, "It's really not what you think. It's...it's yesterday, a friend of mine came to visit, and he happens to know a little about traditional Chinese medicine, so...so he gave my wife a few acupuncture needles."
He paused, carefully choosing his words: "It's strange, but after those few needles, my wife's weak breathing gradually stabilized. This morning, she woke up feeling much better, and her cough had lessened. She looked... looked like she had recovered!"
"Friends? Acupuncture?" Yang Zijie's brows furrowed even more, his disdain and suspicion almost overflowing.
"Zhang Zhihe, your lies are getting more and more outrageous! Acupuncture can cure tuberculosis? Or is it some 'friend' that appeared out of nowhere? This is utterly ridiculous!"
He didn't believe it at all, and thought it was just an even clumsier lie that Zhang Zhihe had made up to cover up his stinginess.
"Fine! Since you put it that way!" Yang Zijie sneered, with a determination to expose the lie on the spot.
"I want to see for myself! I want to see how your wife was 'cured' with just a few needles by your 'miracle doctor' friend! Take me there! I'm going to see how you're going to cover up this lie today!"
He was determined to expose Zhang Zhihe's hypocritical face!
Looking at Yang Zijie's aggressive and unconvincing demeanor, Zhang Zhihe secretly groaned inwardly.
He didn't want the news of Xu Kuo saving people to spread, since Xu Kuo's methods were too miraculous and could easily attract unnecessary trouble.
But given the current situation, if Yang Zijie doesn't see it for himself, he'll probably never be able to shake off the labels of "heartless" and "miser".
Left with no other choice, Zhang Zhihe could only nod, step aside to make way, and say with a bitter expression, "Dr. Yang, since you don't believe me... then please come with me."
As he spoke, he led Yang Zijie, whose face was filled with anger and suspicion, toward his wife's sickbed in the inner room.
Zhang Zhihe led Yang Zijie, whose face was full of anger and suspicion, and walked heavily into the inner room.
He sighed inwardly, hoping that his wife's condition would truly shut Yang Zijie up.
As soon as the curtain was lifted, a faint scent of herbs mixed with the smell of someone who had been ill for a long time wafted out.
However, the scene was completely different from what Yang Zijie had imagined—
In the dimly lit room, by the faint light coming through the window, one could see that although the woman on the sickbed still looked sick, a healthy blush had appeared on her pale cheeks!
She tilted her head slightly, and although her eyes were still somewhat weak, they were no longer unfocused and lifeless, but rather clear.
Seeing Zhang Zhihe lead the people in, she even weakly tugged at the corners of her mouth and nodded in Yang Zijie's direction, her voice hoarse but clear: "Dr. Yang... you've come."
boom!
Yang Zijie was struck dumb, frozen in place!
How...how is this possible?!
His eyes widened as he stared intently at the woman on the hospital bed.
That complexion! That look in his eyes!
Although weak, the breath of life stubbornly emerged like bamboo shoots after a spring rain!
This is absolutely not the state a person in the late stages of tuberculosis, on the verge of death, should be in!
He has practiced medicine for decades and is known as "Dr. Yang" in the surrounding villages. His skills in observation, auscultation, inquiry and palpation are already superb.
At a glance, he could tell—Zhang Zhihe's wife was no longer terminally ill, but clearly... clearly much better!
At least he's out of danger!
It's fake! It must be a final burst of energy before death!
Yes! It must be!
Yang Zijie could not accept the reality before him.
He rushed to the bedside, his fingers trembling slightly with excitement, and even a little shaken, as he took the woman's pulse.
Close your eyes and concentrate.
The pulse felt through my fingertips was initially weak, but steady and powerful, containing a revitalizing vitality!
This…this pulse…where is there even the slightest sign of impending death?!
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