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lit. put a name on a fish and fetch a reputation (idiom); fig. a reputation for unscrupulous work

  "Director Li, you're here."

  The hospital director had been somewhat skeptical of Fang Yiming's claims, knowing his nephew's capabilities all too well. Seeing Li Haoming arrive, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Director Li, Young Master Qian's condition has indeed stabilized. Please, come see for yourself." Fang Yiming smiled confidently and led the group into the ICU.

  On the bed, Young Master Qian looked peaceful, breathing steadily. Clearly, the bone fragments in his lungs had been removed. His head was bandaged, and his legs were secured with splints—he was indeed out of critical condition.

  "My son!" Zhang Lanying rushed to the bedside, heartbroken, and began sobbing.

  Though equally grief-stricken, Qian Haide didn't forget to thank Fang Yiming. "Dr. Fang, was it? You saved my son's life. You are the benefactor of the Qian family. Rest assured, I will not treat you poorly."

  "Ah, Mr. Qian, you're too kind. Healing the sick is our duty as doctors," Fang Yiming replied, grinning from ear to ear with false modesty.

  "Mr. Qian, my nephew is diligent and promising—a true talent. I hope you can look out for him in the future," the director said proudly, beaming.

  Seeing was believing. He hadn't expected his nephew to possess such skill, not only bringing him face but also earning great prestige for Ren'ai Hospital.

  "Xiao Fang, as far as I know, you trained in Western medicine, right? How are you so proficient in traditional Chinese medicine?" Li Haoming asked, surprised by the acupuncture needles on Qian Zifeng. Even more astonishing was that the fractures had been set without surgery.

  "That's right, Director Li. I study TCM texts in my spare time, so I have some knowledge of acupuncture and bone-setting," Fang Yiming explained confidently. "The situation was critical today, so I took a risk. Fortunately, it succeeded, thanks largely to Young Master Qian's own luck and resilience."

  Before Li Haoming's arrival, Fang Yiming had prepared his responses thoroughly, so he answered smoothly.

  "Indeed, you performed this surgery excellently. It seems the new generation surpasses the old," Li Haoming said with a wry smile, feeling a sense of defeat that an unknown junior doctor had far exceeded his own skills.

  "Director Li, is my son out of danger now? Will he be able to walk again?" Zhang Lanying asked tearfully.

  "Don't ask me. Dr. Fang is here—consult him," Li Haoming stepped back deferentially.

  In Fang Yiming's presence, he felt unlearned—a feeling he'd only experienced before with Elder Song and Lin Yu. It seemed Ren'ai Hospital also had hidden talents.

  From the level of this surgery, Fang Yiming's skill might even rival Lin Yu's.

  After lying dormant for so long, TCM had suddenly produced two such brilliant young talents.

  "Dr. Fang, is there hope for my son to walk again?" Zhang Lanying looked at Fang Yiming expectantly.

  "Well... that..." Fang Yiming frowned, unsure how to answer. He had no real idea of Qian Zifeng's condition.

  But he quickly recovered, sighing regretfully. "I can't guarantee anything. It depends on Young Master Qian's luck and willpower. I've done all I can. His recovery is up to him now."

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  With these words, he shifted all responsibility away, implying that the surgery was complete and the rest was beyond his control.

  "Then, Dr. Fang, when will my son wake up?" Qian Haide asked urgently.

  "That's hard to say. It still depends on his willpower," Fang Yiming said gravely.

  "What about the needles on him?" the director asked, unfamiliar with TCM.

  "The needles must not be touched! Otherwise, any consequences will not be my fault!" Fang Yiming said urgently, recalling Lin Yu's warning. He felt annoyed—why hadn't that bastard Lin Yu told him how long the needles should remain?

  "Tell me honestly, where did you learn your medical skills?" Jiang Yan asked on their way back, still amazed by what she'd witnessed.

  "From books," Lin Yu replied casually, focusing on driving.

  "What books? Divine texts?" Jiang Yan frowned. If reading alone could make someone a doctor, everyone would be one.

  "The books I read are quite advanced. And have you heard of talent?" Lin Yu smiled at her. "Your husband, He Jiarong, has a gift for medicine. I grasp everything quickly."

  Seeing he was evading her question, Jiang Yan felt annoyed but didn't press further. After all, it wasn't a bad thing.

  The next morning, as Lin Yu was brushing his teeth, Jiang Yan rushed into the bathroom. "The news covered your treatment of Qian Zifeng last night!"

  "Already? That was fast," Lin Yu said, surprised.

  "But it's not about you—it's about Fang Yiming," Jiang Yan said coldly, clearly displeased. She handed him her phone.

  On Qinghai News Network's homepage, a bold red headline read: "Rich Businessman's Son in Critical Condition After Late-Night Street Race; Young Doctor at Ren'ai Hospital Works Miracles."

  The article featured a large photo of Fang Yiming and detailed how he had saved the severely injured patient.

  Lin Yu just smiled and continued brushing his teeth, unbothered.

  "Aren't you angry?!" Jiang Yan frowned. Anyone else would be furious having their hard work stolen.

  But Lin Yu showed no sign of annoyance.

  "Angry? About what?" Lin Yu mumbled through his toothpaste. "Those who seek fame will eventually be exposed."

  "You fool!" Jiang Yan rolled her eyes. "Do you know what this surgery represents? Prestige and status in Qinghai's medical community..."

  "I heal people not for those things," Lin Yu interrupted, shaking his head.

  Jiang Yan paused, staring at him, unsure whether to call him foolish or admire his integrity.

  Regardless, she despised Fang Yiming's deceit. "Just wait—I'll expose him."

  "No need," Lin Yu said lazily. "I told you, he'll be exposed eventually. The effects of my acupuncture are limited. By evening, Qian Zifeng might deteriorate. I planned to continue his treatment today, but now let's leave it to the miraculous Dr. Fang."

  Jiang Yan was taken aback by his confidence and didn't question further, leaving to get ready for work.

  When Lin Yu arrived at Huisheng Hall, Wei Xuening was already there, using red chalk to draw a turtle on his security door with "He Jiarong" written on its shell.

  "What are you doing?" Lin Yu asked, exasperated by her childishness.

  "Drawing your portrait," Wei Xuening said cheerfully. "Your door is too plain—I'm adding some color."

  Lin Yu shook his head and let it go.

  Inside, Wei Xuening took out 500 yuan and slapped it on the table. "I'm booking you for the entire morning!"

  "What did you say?!" Lin Yu frowned at her.

  Wei Xuening shrank under his gaze. "I mean... I'm booking a session for a massage, okay?"

  "No. I have other patients. Your pelvic massage only takes half an hour," Lin Yu said.

  Wei Xuening huffed but didn't argue further.

  Somehow, while other men feared her, Lin Yu always made her feel the opposite—a feeling she only got from her father, Wei Gongxun.

  After her massage, Lin Yu attended to other patients.

  Wei Xuening, with nothing else to do, stayed to watch him work.

  "Your condition is due to imbalance between nutrient and defensive qi. I'll prescribe a formula to induce sweating and stop perspiration. You'll recover quickly," Lin Yu said, writing a prescription.

  Watching him work seriously, Wei Xuening found him unexpectedly handsome—different from any other man she'd known.

  Others feared her or flattered her, but only Lin Yu could intimidate her, much like her father.

  That evening, while Lin Yu relaxed, Ren'ai Hospital was in chaos.

  "What happened? He was fine at noon—why has his condition deteriorated so suddenly?" Director Dai Wei roared at Fang Yiming and the other doctors outside the ICU.

  Young Master Qian's condition had suddenly worsened: difficulty breathing, convulsions, and rapidly declining vital signs.

  "We... we don't know. He was fine, and then suddenly..." The doctors were sweating, baffled.

  Fang Yiming stayed silent, pale-faced.

  "Yiming, go check on him! You treated him last night—how can you say you can't now?" the director urged anxiously.

  "Director, his condition has changed. It's beyond my capabilities now," Fang Yiming deflected.

  "You have to try! You're the most skilled here. Get in there!" the director ordered sternly. "No matter what, save Young Master Qian's life, or we'll all pay the price!"

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