Chapter 28: Challenging the World’s Authority

Zheng Jiancheng’s treatment cycles for patients were never long, never exceeding ten days. Naturally, his fees were astronomical—one hundred million yuan per case. Yet money alone was not sufficient to secure his services. He would only accept ten cases a year; those who could persuade him to intervene were, without exception, figures of immense influence on the world stage.

He Shihao, a prominent tycoon in Ninghai City, regarded one hundred million as a mere trifling sum and would have gladly spent far more for his wife’s sake. But inviting Master Zheng to treat his wife had required a herculean effort. If not for the life-and-death bond between his own father and Zheng’s, the great physician would never have agreed to come. Even with that connection, Zheng Jiancheng had delayed for two or three months before finally arriving.

He had just arrived today, and after examining the patient, gave He Shihao a definitive answer on the spot:

“Seven days.”

“Seven days? Can you really cure my wife’s mental illness in only seven days?”

Though He Shihao had heard countless miraculous tales of his abilities, hearing Zheng himself promise a cure in such a short time left him almost trembling with excitement.

“Are you questioning my skills?” Zheng Jiancheng’s expression darkened. He took great pride in his artistry and would brook no doubts.

“No, of course not! You are the renowned expert, the miracle doctor. I believe—I absolutely believe in you.”

He Shihao hurriedly forced a smile, relieved by Zheng’s assurance. He dared not entertain the slightest doubt—not when this man was a world-class expert in neurology, whose presence was coveted by presidents and heads of state abroad. Now that Zheng had come to treat his wife, He Shihao was nothing if not deferential, not daring to slacken the smallest courtesy.

Thus, it was hardly surprising that when his daughter mentioned inviting a “remarkable master” to treat her mother, he was incensed. So-called “remarkable masters” were nothing but the charlatans and street-corner frauds that Wu Weiming had warned about. He Shihao had no faith in those who dressed up as recluses and played at being sages, when all they had were cheap tricks to fool the gullible.

If his daughter truly brought such a swindler into his home, he would slap some sense into her—if only to show Master Zheng he had not lost his mind. After all, he had gone to great lengths to invite this living legend; what if the man took offense and left?

And as fate would have it, his worst fears were realized. At that very moment, the door to the hospital room swung open, and his daughter entered, leading a man clad in a Daoist robe—clearly a fraud, a street-corner mystic.

“Meixuan, have you lost your mind? Bringing in this charlatan to disgrace us?”

He Shihao was furious; Master Zheng was right there, preparing to treat his wife, and now his daughter had brought in a swindler?

What would Master Zheng think? If they believed in such tricksters, why bother to invite him at all?

In an effort to mollify Zheng’s anger—even though he cherished his daughter dearly—He Shihao felt compelled to teach her a lesson.

He strode over, bristling with rage, and raised his hand to slap He Meixuan across the face.

“What right do you have to hit me?” He Meixuan was stunned, her anger flaring as she saw her father raise his hand against her.

But the slap never landed. Chen Yufeng reached out and caught He Shihao’s hand mid-air.

Chen Yufeng saw at a glance that this sharply dressed, seasoned man with the air of an accomplished mogul must be He Meixuan’s wealthy father.

Having blocked He Shihao’s slap, Chen Yufeng glanced at him coolly.

“If I’m not mistaken, you want to hit her because she brought me here, am I right?”

“You’re a charlatan with some self-awareness, it seems. Not only do I intend to discipline my daughter, I’ll teach you a lesson as well—for the public good, to rid us of your kind…”

He Shihao was furious. He felt forced to discipline his daughter, to save face before Master Zheng. But the one he truly wanted to vent his anger on was this so-called master, who he believed had bewitched his cherished daughter with empty promises.

He was determined to beat some sense into this man.

Wu Weiming, tall and powerfully built, was delighted to see He Shihao about to teach this charlatan a lesson. He had been hoping for a chance to do so himself, and now, with an opportunity to shine in front of He Shihao, it was a gift from above. How could he let it slip?

“Please, Uncle He, let me handle this,” Wu Weiming interjected immediately.

“Hm?” He Shihao glanced back in surprise. “What is it?”

Wu Weiming hastened to explain: “There’s no need for you to dirty your hands with this street charlatan. Leave him to me—I’ll teach him a lesson and send him to the police for a few years.”

“Excellent, that is best,” He Shihao agreed, thinking it beneath his dignity to deal with such rabble himself. Since someone else was willing to act, he was happy to step aside.

But He Meixuan would have none of it. She quickly stepped in front of Chen Yufeng and shouted at Wu Weiming, “This is the master I invited—don’t you dare touch him!”

“Nonsense. Stand aside!” He Shihao barked at his daughter, displeased by her interference.

But Wu Weiming, unwilling to miss his chance, sneered, “Meixuan, did you hear that? It’s not me who wants to beat him—it’s Uncle He’s decision. You should step aside.”

“Wu Weiming, don’t think I don’t know what you’re after. Let me make it clear, give up your hopes. There’s no possibility between us.”

He Meixuan could see right through Wu Weiming—he was only trying to please her father in hopes of marrying into the family. Her distaste for him grew stronger.

She was determined; having invited this master, she would let him try. No one would be allowed to lay a hand on him before he had a chance.

He Meixuan’s words only stoked Wu Weiming’s fury. Unable to vent it on her, he directed all his anger at the supposed master.

He glared at Chen Yufeng with open contempt. “So, fake master, is hiding behind a woman all you know how to do? If you’re a man, come out and face me!”

“I came here to heal, not to harm. Please don’t interfere.”

“Not to harm? As if you could hurt me!”

Chen Yufeng could not even be bothered to argue. He simply pointed downward and said, “Just a friendly tip—your fly is open, and your underwear is peeking out. No need to thank me. I’m just that kind-hearted.”

No one had noticed until he spoke, but now everyone in the room glanced at Wu Weiming’s lower half and saw a most embarrassing sight.

“Liar! Stop making things up…” Wu Weiming, convinced he hadn’t made such a rookie mistake, glanced down as he spoke.

One look and his face turned scarlet—this was even worse than before. A corner of his red underwear was clearly visible.

His mind reeled. He couldn’t understand why his zipper kept coming undone today. He was sure he had checked it just minutes ago. Why was this happening?

The awkward scene did not escape the notice of He Shihao and Zheng Jiancheng, who both coughed politely and said nothing. Two young nurses stifled their laughter, cheeks flushed.

Wu Weiming, mortified, was about to explain when Chen Yufeng seized the moment to twist the knife: “Ladies, isn’t this the second time today this dashing gentleman has forgotten his zipper? Really, the lengths some men will go to flirt—couldn’t you be a little more subtle? Is such a high-profile approach really necessary?”

Wu Weiming’s composure crumbled. He wanted nothing more than to punch Chen Yufeng, but there was no denying his own humiliation. All he could do was grit his teeth and swallow his rage.

“Sigh, what can I say about you?” Chen Yufeng added. “Someone once told me your nickname was that disgusting—what was it?—‘King of One-Night Stands.’ I didn’t believe it before, but now, it seems there’s some truth to it.”

He Meixuan glanced at Wu Weiming, shook her head in disappointment, and began to doubt his character.

“No, Meixuan, Uncle He, let me explain…”

But with a cough from He Shihao, Wu Weiming hurried off to a corner to zip up, more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life.

His image was utterly ruined.

He blamed it all on that damned charlatan.

Just you wait…