Slap! Slap!
Qian Weidong landed two fierce slaps on Qian Bowen’s face, then roared, “Big Brother, I’ve always looked up to you as my role model—how could you do something so inhuman? I… I…” He sank to the ground, sobbing into his hands.
“ Weidong, I’m sorry. I’ve let you down,” Qian Bowen said, his face twisted in pain. “I didn’t want this. It’s Father’s stubbornness—he wouldn’t let it go, no matter how I begged.”
“If he’d just turned a blind eye, none of this would’ve happened.”
“I thought it was foolproof, but I never expected Ye Qiu.”
Qian Bowen glanced at Ye Qiu. “You’re a sharp kid—destined for great things. Take your uncle’s advice: don’t follow me. Stay on the right path.”
Ye Qiu felt a pang. His first visit to the Qian family, and it came to this.
“When did you start suspecting me?” Qian Bowen asked.
“In the main house earlier,” Ye Qiu replied. “I mentioned the Art of Suppression—none of the three master physicians knew it, but you did. That surprised me.”
“With my knowledge, knowing about it isn’t odd,” Qian Bowen said.
“True, so I only suspected—not confirmed—back then.”
“Was it the ‘evil aura’ on my hands that clinched it?”
Ye Qiu shook his head. “I don’t know aura-reading.”
“Huh?”
Qian Bowen froze. So did everyone else.
Ye Qiu explained, “In Taoist lore, aura-reading exists—ancient masters, sorcerers, geomancers, physiognomists could use it to judge fortune, even see a person’s fate or the world’s course.”
“But to modern folks, it’s just a legend. I’ve yet to meet anyone who can do it.”
Realization dawned.
Ye Qiu had bluffed.
Cao Chunmei cursed, “You bastard, tricking us! Shameless!”
“If you’d been upright and guilt-free, my bluff wouldn’t have worked,” Ye Qiu sighed. “Too bad you had ghosts in your hearts.”
Qian Bowen wasn’t mad—his eyes shone with admiration. “So young, yet so meticulous, observant, reading people like that. Impressive!”
“You’re too kind, Uncle.”
“Since aura-reading was fake, was waking Father a lie too?”
“No, that was true,” Ye Qiu said. “I’m a doctor—I’d never lie about a patient’s condition, especially my grandfather.”
“When will Father wake?” Qian Bowen asked.
“Soon. With treatment now, one or two hours,” Ye Qiu replied.
“Good thing you came, or if Father passed, my sins would’ve been even graver.”
Qian Bowen gazed at the drifting clouds, memories flipping through his mind like pages.
Moments later, he murmured:
“A lifetime’s work turns to naught, half a life’s fame a fleeting dream. If fate grants another chance, I’d kneel to honor my old father.”
His words fell.
Then he slammed his head into the wall.
Ye Qiu’s foot twitched—he could’ve stopped him with his reflexes—but he held back.
Maybe death was Qian Bowen’s best end.
Thud!
Blood sprayed as Qian Bowen’s head split against the wall, his body crumpling.
The sudden act stunned everyone.
“Big Brother!” Qian Jinglan shrieked, rushing to cradle him, shouting, “Qiu’er, save him!”
Ye Qiu didn’t move.
Nor did anyone else.
Qian Weidong snapped to, grabbing Qian Bowen’s hand, tears streaming. “Why, Big Brother?”
Qian Bowen managed a weak smile. “My sins are too heavy—only death frees me.”
“Jinglan, Weidong—I can’t care for Father anymore. Please look after him.”
“And Chunmei, Rong’er—beg Father for me… spare them…”
Blood gushed from his mouth. He turned to Cao Chunmei with effort. “If life could stay as it began… Chunmei, I’m… sorry…”
His voice cut off.
His breath stopped.
“Big Brother!” Qian Jinglan wailed.
Qian Weidong gripped his hand, sobbing, “Rest easy, we’ll tend to Father.”
Cao Chunmei laughed maniacally. “Good riddance! Good riddance!”
“Don’t think dying makes us forgive you, Qian Bowen.”
“I’m telling you, Rong’er and I will never—sob…”
Her taunts dissolved into wails.
Ye Qiu turned to leave, then spotted a gentle woman in a long skirt at the courtyard gate, resembling Qian Rong, holding a four- or five-year-old girl. Tears streaked her face as she stared at Qian Bowen.
“Who’s she?” Ye Qiu asked.
Qian Duoduo answered, “Uncle’s youngest, Qian Shiyu.”
“Oh.” Ye Qiu nodded faintly. “With this mess, Second Uncle will be swamped. Help him out.”
“Got it,” Qian Duoduo agreed.
Ye Qiu approached Qian Weidong, whispering, “Second Uncle, don’t grieve too much. This might be a release for him.”
“With him gone, you’re the family’s backbone now. Stay strong—handle his affairs.”
“I’ll treat Grandfather now.”
He started to go.
“Wait!” Qian Weidong stopped him, wiping tears. “Can Father wake later?”
Ye Qiu frowned.
“I don’t want him opening his eyes to this,” Qian Weidong said. “Give me a day to settle Big Brother’s affairs.”
“A day enough?” Ye Qiu asked.
“Yes,” Qian Weidong sighed. “The Qian family’s a century-old scholarly line. This scandal would ruin us if it spread. His affairs must stay quiet.”
Ye Qiu agreed it was wise. “If you need help, Second Uncle, just say.”
“Alright.”
That day, Qian Weidong handled it.
The next morning, Ye Qiu returned to the main house with the three master physicians.
