Chapter 86: Do You Mean to Murder Someone?

Li Yueyao struggled for a moment.

“Yueyao, the treatment plan this fellow gave really seems off. He even listed some expensive foreign supplements unrelated to your brother’s condition, which could very well cost him his life. I can save him—do you trust me?” Ye Fei looked at Li Yueyao with a gentle smile, his eyes full of confidence.

Without hesitation, Li Yueyao replied firmly, “I trust you!”

Director Zhang, hearing Ye Fei mention “supplements,” was instantly furious and yelled, “Stop slandering me! If you think my diagnosis is wrong, are you willing to make a bet?”

Ye Fei remained unruffled, asking calmly, “What sort of bet?”

“If you can provide a better treatment, I’ll send it to top medical experts abroad for evaluation. If they confirm it’s effective, I lose; if not, you lose!” Director Zhang said.

Ye Fei’s interest was piqued. “And what’s the wager?”

Director Zhang sneered, “If you lose, you’ll write a three-thousand-word essay denouncing traditional medicine and apologize to me in front of everyone. If I lose—well, I can’t lose! But if, by some miracle, I do, you can name your terms.”

Ye Fei smiled. “Let’s make it more interesting—if I cure Xiaolong right now, you resign from your post as director and cover all medical expenses. What do you say?”

Director Zhang scoffed, his face full of disdain. “Fine! I’d like to see if you really have the ability!”

Li Yueyao’s parents exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to speak. Director Zhang was gambling with their son’s life, which felt deeply inappropriate, but they dared not object for fear of offending him—lest it jeopardize their son’s survival.

“Old doctor, there’s a stethoscope right here in our ward. Isn’t your traditional medicine all about observation and diagnosis? Why don’t you begin?” Director Zhang stared coldly at Ye Fei. “Or would you rather I fetch you some silver needles?”

Ye Fei stepped to Li Xiaolong’s bedside. “That won’t be necessary. Such a minor illness—I can cure it with just my hands.”

Director Zhang was dripping with sarcasm. Having spent most of his life immersed in Western medicine, he knew this illness was rare worldwide. For a young man to claim he could cure it with a wave of his hand? Absurd!

“Yueyao, there’s a bronze cauldron on the passenger seat in my car. Could you fetch it for me?” Ye Fei said.

Li Yueyao was momentarily stunned. She’d noticed the cauldron earlier but hadn’t known its purpose. Still, she took the keys from Ye Fei and hurried downstairs to retrieve it.

Once the bronze cauldron was brought up, Ye Fei walked straight to Li Xiaolong’s bed and pulled back his blanket.

“Traditional medicine has spanned five thousand years, saving lives without the need for excessive surgery. Today, I’ll show you what it means to cure countless illnesses with a single remedy.”

Ye Fei’s expression was calm as he lifted a previously refined pill from the bronze cauldron.

Director Zhang, seeing this, burst out laughing in contempt. “So this is what I’ve been missing—could it be the legendary ‘pill’ of traditional medicine? Or perhaps some homemade concoction?”

He turned to Li Yueyao’s parents. “I advise you to keep a close eye on this young man. If he gives your son poison, don’t blame the hospital for not warning you.”

Li Yueyao’s parents’ faces darkened instantly, stepping forward to drive Ye Fei away.

But Li Yueyao blocked their path, pleading, “Dad, Mom, I’m willing to stake my life on Xiaolong’s.”

Her parents exchanged a look; the father squeezed the mother’s hand and nodded, saying nothing more, but their eyes never left Ye Fei, wary of any malicious intent.

“Xiaolong, swallow this,” Ye Fei held the pill to his lips, speaking gently, “It’s a little bitter, but you’ll be fine once you get it down.”

Li Xiaolong nodded. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of security from Ye Fei, and his sister clearly trusted him. He opened his mouth and swallowed the pill.

As it entered, a chill spread with its bitter taste. Li Xiaolong felt a stream like icy water unfurl throughout his body, flowing through every vein. His pallor gradually gave way to a healthy flush; the body, so long tormented by illness, seemed to come alive again.

But just then, a green centipede the size of a finger suddenly wriggled out of his ear, frantically fleeing.

“Hm!?” Ye Fei’s brows knitted. He swiftly pinched the centipede between his fingers and crushed it to powder.

His back was to everyone, so no one else saw this moment.

“Hiss—” Li Xiaolong sucked in a cold breath.

“All done!” Ye Fei grabbed a tissue and wiped the sweat from Li Xiaolong’s forehead. “There’s nothing much to worry about now.”

“Nothing much to worry about?” Director Zhang sneered, though a flash of shock crossed his eyes.

He saw Li Xiaolong sit up straight from his bed!

Impossible. Even if this was his first encounter with such an illness, medical literature confirmed its difficulty to treat—how could he recover after swallowing just a single pill?

“Ah… so comfortable…” Li Xiaolong moved his body in disbelief.

“What!?”

“Heavens!?”

Li Yueyao’s parents, stunned, rushed forward, their faces full of anxious concern.

Anyone with eyes could see that Li Xiaolong’s sickly appearance was gone. His cheeks were rosy, his breathing steady, his energy swiftly returning.

At that moment, Ye Fei did something no one expected.

He reached out and removed all the IV lines and oxygen tubes from Li Xiaolong.

“What are you doing!” Director Zhang exploded, furious. “The patient is in danger—how could you disconnect his life support? Are you trying to kill him?”

But in the next second—

Li Xiaolong threw off the covers, jumped off the bed, stretched his limbs, and bounced on the spot, showing not a trace of illness.

Li Yueyao’s mother wept tears of joy, hugging her son tightly.

Seeing her brother lively again, Li Yueyao’s eyes reddened with emotion.

“This… this can’t be! What trickery is this? You charlatan! Fraud! Get out!” Director Zhang raged, but with Xiaolong standing before him, even he couldn’t deny it.

“After all these years, it’s no wonder people say you’ve lived like a dog.” Ye Fei sneered. “What now? About to lose, so you throw insults, unable to control yourself?”

“What kind of medicine is that? Was it approved by the national drug administration? Where was it produced? What’s its composition?” Director Zhang’s face twisted, pointing at Ye Fei, enunciating each word. “You can’t answer any of that, can you? I have every reason to suspect you gave the patient some short-term drug that trades away his life force—that’s why he woke up so quickly!”