Chapter Fifteen: Miraculous Hands, Restoring Spring

Three days later.

Han’s mother’s coughing grew less frequent, and her complexion swiftly returned to normal. They sought out a local physician who already knew she suffered from a grave illness and believed she had only days left. Yet when he checked her pulse, he discovered the tuberculosis had been cured. How could this be possible?

“Wait—what method did you use?” he asked, astonished. He had practiced medicine for decades and never heard of a treatment for this disease, yet the young man before him had managed it.

“It was nothing more than some herbs, a simple experiment,” Han Qing replied, unwilling to elaborate.

“Ah, I was foolish to ask too much,” the physician admitted, suddenly understanding. He ought to find a private moment to discuss things further, for such direct questioning would naturally breed suspicion.

Han’s mother’s health improved, and rumors outside were quickly dispelled. More remarkably, word of her recovery spread rapidly among the neighbors, with the very physician testifying to the cure. Bai Er, upon hearing the news, was furious, but there was nothing he could do. Having spent silver to spread malicious gossip, he gained nothing, and instead others admired Han Qing’s composure.

“Who could have guessed that beneath his fair appearance, he understands the art of Chinese medicine?” someone remarked.

“You’re not the only one—he surprised me as well!” the old physician said, full of admiration. Han Qing’s medical skill was likely far superior to theirs, and though young, his talent was beyond imitation.

“Do you truly understand medicine?” Jiang Xiuxiu asked, her eyes shining, her admiration for her husband deepening.

“Xiuxiu, I merely read a few medical books these past days; it’s not as miraculous as people say,” he replied, shaking his head. There was no need for exaggeration—he would take things step by step.

“Let’s go see Mother. She’s awake and wants to talk to you,” Xiuxiu urged.

Han Qing’s heart ached as he saw his mother’s frail figure; illness had weakened her body’s defenses.

“My child, I know all you’ve done. I wronged you before, but now I see you’ve truly grown up!” the old lady wept with relief.

Having barely escaped death, she now treasured her son and daughter-in-law all the more.

“We must live well from now on, and never let outside gossip cloud our minds,” she emphasized again, angered by rumors she’d heard. How could anyone accuse her son of being unfilial? It was laughable.

Han Qing nodded.

The old physician had lately visited their home several times, his eyes full of admiration.

“Master Han, I am reaching the end of my years, but I am especially interested in this illness. Might you enlighten me?” he asked sincerely.

Yet simply using herbs wouldn’t necessarily yield such results. Han Qing had purified key elements many times; explaining in detail would be difficult.

“Tell me your doubts,” Han Qing invited, not refusing outright.

“Tuberculosis is rare, but truly incurable—how did you manage such a miraculous recovery?” the physician asked, full of respect. Though he had much experience, he was never stingy with praise for the talented.

“The disease can be mild or severe. I merely happened upon a combination of herbs; it may not always work,” Han Qing said.

The physician nodded, wanting to ask more, but Han Qing stopped him.

“I’ve already said, I can only hint at the rest, not disclose everything,” Han Qing replied honestly. He admired the physician’s humility, but why should he give away a chance for profit?

The physician understood. Having received some answers, he had no regrets. If tuberculosis could be cured, it would surely cause a sensation in the city. For now, less was said, helping keep things quiet.

After the previous fatal incident, the price for transferring Drunken Flower Pavilion dropped several times. The Bai family, once eager to buy, now abandoned the idea. Young Lord Zhu also seemed inclined to give up.

“Master Han, it’s not that I don’t see the value in the pavilion, but it is tainted by a terrible event. If I buy it and can’t make a profit, wouldn’t it be a loss?” Zhu argued sensibly.

Han Qing understood and did not insist.

Previously, he had drawn Zhu in only to oppose the Bai family. Now that purpose was fulfilled—there was no need to force him.

“Lord Zhu, I am well aware of the complications. There are indeed risks, so choosing not to buy is wise,” he replied calmly.

Afterward, he sent a letter to Zhi Lan, instructing her to purchase the pavilion at a low price.

“At this moment, it’s a great opportunity for the girls at Drunken Flower Pavilion, and if you take it over, you could rise to become the owner,” he said, dropping a bombshell that awakened Zhi Lan.

She had always hoped to seize control of her destiny; now was the time.

“I understand,” she said.

Two hundred silver was a sum she could manage, but Zhi Lan felt puzzled. By rights, Han Qing was the one who should buy the place—why let her take over?

It made little sense.

“If you know the girls can earn money here, why not manage it yourself?” Zhi Lan asked boldly.

“I do not wish to openly take over any shop now, and I promised you before—it’s time I fulfilled that promise,” Han Qing explained.

So that was it! She had judged him wrongly.

“Zhi Lan was foolish,” she admitted.

Han Qing glanced at her briefly, then hurried away. The matter of tuberculosis might draw unwanted attention, and if trouble arose at home, it would only be worse.

He had just stepped inside when he heard that a distinguished guest had come to visit. There was never a moment’s peace.

“Xiuxiu, please look after Mother. Once I’ve dealt with the front hall, I’ll come and explain everything,” he said smoothly, ever composed.

“All right. If it’s too much, just ignore them,” Jiang Xiuxiu replied softly, assuring him that his family stood behind him.