Chapter 58 So Comfortable!

At the entrance of the manor.

Leaving behind the unpleasantness of the hall, while waiting for his car, Ye Wushang took out his phone and dialed his sister’s number.

"Wuyou, how are you? Did you get up yet?"

By his estimation, his sister had mostly recovered. It was already four in the afternoon, and he was thinking of taking her out for a good meal. Then, over dinner, he planned to discuss reopening the noodle shop with her.

"Brother, I’ve been up for a while. I’m at the little workshop now," Ye Wuyou replied cheerfully.

Ye Wushang frowned, suspicious, "The workshop? How did you get there..."

"Of course I took her," came An Lan’s voice on the other end of the line. "After finishing up at the company, I went back to the villa to check on Wuyou. She hasn’t visited the workshop in three years and missed it, so I drove her over. She’s reminiscing about Auntie’s noodles and wants to cook some for us."

"Where are you now? Hurry back and taste our sister’s cooking."

Ye Wushang was taken aback. Was this what they call being on the same wavelength? He’d been worrying about whether she would accept reopening the noodle shop, and now she was recalling the taste of her mother’s noodles. It seemed discussing it with her would pose no problem.

But An Lan... Wasn’t her company busy, especially with preparations for the thank-you banquet? This involved the An family’s proxy authority and future development. Yet she cared deeply about his sister. For her, he felt nothing but gratitude and admiration.

He was resolved. Unless he helped her resolve the Pei family matter, he would continue working as her personal bodyguard.

"Yes, I’m outside. I’ll—"

"Mr. Ye, Mr. Ye!"

Before he could finish, a cry came from behind him—Huang Yuanxiang’s voice.

Ye Wushang glanced at the time. Ten minutes, just right.

"Lanlan, I’ll hang up now. I’ll be back soon; please take care of Wuyou for me."

He ended the call, took a deep breath, and strode toward the gates.

"Mr. Ye, please wait, wait!"

Seeing Ye Wushang leaving without a backward glance, Huang Yuanxiang grew frantic. He disregarded his dignity, practically tumbling forward to block his path. "Mr. Ye, why didn’t you wait for me?"

"Just now, you asked me to leave at the Huang residence—your territory. I had no right to stay. But this isn’t your home; I come and go as I please. Can you control that?"

Ye Wushang’s face was cold as he reached out to push him aside, but Huang Yuanxiang stubbornly refused to budge. "Please, Mr. Ye, don’t be angry. I apologize for my rashness earlier—it was wrong of me to drive you away. But my son is critically ill and desperately needs your help. Please, I beg you, come back and save him!"

With that, he bowed deeply.

Ye Wushang, however, was indifferent. "That’s your son. What does it matter to me? I gave you a chance earlier in the bedroom, but you refused. Now you can only blame yourself!"

He turned to leave.

In his desperation, Huang Yuanxiang suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud.

"Mr. Ye, I’m on my knees. Please, save my son! The Huang family has only one heir for three generations. His mother, before she died, made me promise to take care of him. If anything happens to him, how could I face my wife again? Please, have mercy, and save him. If you cure him, I’ll serve you like an ox or horse—whatever you wish!"

Huang Yuanxiang pleaded with heartfelt desperation, his words growing tearful. The mountain of fatherly love was palpable to Ye Wushang. Yet Huang’s earlier behavior was hard to forgive.

He was about to refuse when Elder Tang came out, saying, "Wushang, for my sake, please help Chairman Huang. I know he acted wrongly just now, but no one is perfect. Please help him quickly, or I’ll kneel before you myself..."

As he spoke, Elder Tang was about to kneel.

Ye Wushang quickly stepped forward, supporting him. With a sigh, he said, "Alright, for your sake, I’ll help him. But only this once, and never again."

"Thank you, thank you, Wushang," Elder Tang said, tears streaming down his face.

Huang Yuanxiang, assisted by the security staff, got up and ran over with humility. "Mr. Ye, please come inside."

...

Inside the hall.

Huang Pianqiang lay sprawled on the ground. His convulsions had ceased, and the foam at his mouth was gone. But his body was utterly still, and the monitors connected to him had changed from jagged lines to straight ones.

Anyone with the slightest knowledge knew: a straight line means death.

"My son!"

Huang Yuanxiang collapsed, rushing over to cradle his son, wailing in anguish.

Huang Pianruo sat desolate on the sofa, tears streaming down her face.

The atmosphere was dead silent.

Especially Yao Tiancheng, accused of medical malpractice, who was now panting heavily, his old ailment triggered by anxiety.

"Wushang, does Young Master Huang have any hope?" Elder Tang asked. In his opinion, Huang Pianqiang was beyond saving. Even Ye Wushang likely could do nothing.

"It’s not a big problem. Move him onto the bed first. Remove all the wires, and bring me three sets of silver needles and a fruit knife."

After giving instructions, Ye Wushang strode forward, adjusting the bedding and the pillow’s height.

Seeing these strange actions, Pei Qinghu couldn’t help but scoff, "Is he crazy? Is this treating a patient, or is he here to entertain us?"

"Shut your mouth!" Huang Yuanxiang didn’t know Ye Wushang’s intentions, but he was his only hope now. Desperate, he rebuked Pei Qinghu harshly, "You’re the one who brought that old quack here! If anything happens to my son, I won’t forgive you—or the Pei family!"

Pei Qinghu grimaced. He’d hoped to improve relations with the Huang family and maybe win Huang Pianruo’s heart, but things had taken a turn for the worse. Now, seeing Ye Wushang return, he was even more frustrated. Yet, faced with Huang Yuanxiang’s fury, he dared not retort, though inwardly he sneered. If even the Medicine God couldn’t help, how could Ye Wushang save him? If Huang Pianqiang died, the blame would fall on Ye Wushang instead.

"Mr. Ye, here are the items you requested," the butler said, placing them on the bedside table.

Ye Wushang nodded, positioning Huang Pianqiang on the bed at a sixty-degree angle.

Then he picked up the fruit knife and trimmed the silver needles into 'Z', 'X', and 'T' shapes.

"What’s he doing? Does he even know how to treat illnesses? He’s not using Western medical equipment, and his acupuncture is so strange."

"I’ve seen acupuncture before, but never like this. He’d better not kill the young master!"

The crowd murmured doubts, even Huang Yuanxiang felt anxious, not knowing if he’d made the right choice bringing Ye Wushang back.

"Elder Tang, I am passionate about medicine and have studied it, but I’ve never seen this acupuncture method before. Are you sure you trust him?" Huang Pianruo asked quietly.

Elder Tang hesitated, but he’d witnessed Ye Wushang’s needlework firsthand.

"Don’t worry, Miss Huang. I believe Wushang will cure your brother. His technique is unprecedented—since he’s using this method, let’s wait and see."

"Hmph," scoffed Yao Tiancheng. "There are only a few kinds of acupuncture, but I’ve never seen this twisted method. How can he find the right acupoints, let alone stimulate them? My skills may be limited, but this is utter nonsense!"

Pei Qinghu interjected, "If anything goes wrong, it’s Ye Wushang who killed Young Master Huang. It has nothing to do with us."

These words caused Huang Yuanxiang even more worry. He was about to speak when Ye Wushang barked, "Silence! Either stay and watch or leave. Don’t interfere with my treatment."

His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried undeniable authority.

Everyone fell silent, focusing their attention.

Ready, Ye Wushang took the three sets of needles, gripped them in turn, and inserted them consecutively.

Unlike Yao Tiancheng, his movements were swifter and sharper. Though the needles were bent and twisted, in his hands they seemed as straight as lines.

Looking closely, the needlework and the patient’s position formed a natural arc.

As Ye Wushang’s technique deepened, the crowd became entranced.

It felt less like medical treatment and more like the creation of an artwork—captivating and exhilarating.

Half an hour later, with all three sets of needles in place, Ye Wushang suddenly lifted Huang Pianqiang’s body, spun it three hundred and sixty degrees, turning him from face-up to face-down, his head at the edge of the bed. He struck his back hard.

A crackling sound followed.

Huang Pianqiang convulsed violently as if struck by lightning.

As the needles fell away, he vomited blood, far more and faster than during Yao Tiancheng’s treatment.

Everyone’s hearts leapt into their throats at the sight, just as they were about to intervene, the previously silent Huang Pianqiang suddenly rolled over, lay comfortably on the bed, and spoke with delight, "That feels so good..."

...