Advanced tuberculosis!
Upon hearing this, the faces of Zhang Jiuling and the others changed drastically.
Though not cancer, advanced tuberculosis was no different from it—a terminal illness.
“Isn’t Xu Liu setting him up? Who can cure advanced tuberculosis?”
“Ye Qiu was so close to claiming the title of Medical Sage, and Xu Liu does this? Isn’t he deliberately trying to stop Ye Qiu from becoming the Medical Sage?”
“Outrageous! Xu, you old dog, what’s your game?”
Nie Xueliang pointed at Xu Liu and shouted, “If you don’t explain yourself today, we old folks won’t let you off!”
“Xu Liu, are you jealous of Ye Qiu, so you deliberately brought in a terminally ill patient for him to treat?” Li Chunfeng asked.
Zhang Jiuling, with a stern face, said, “Old Xu, what’s your intention?”
Xu Liu replied, “I’m doing this for Ye Qiu’s own good.”
Nonsense!
The audience below erupted in curses.
“Bringing a terminally ill patient for Dr. Ye to treat and claiming it’s for his good? Have you no shame?”
“This old man is utterly shameless.”
“He’s no better than Li Zhengxi.”
“To think the leader of the four great masters of Chinese medicine is such a despicable villain. What a disgrace to Chinese medicine!”
Some in the crowd even threw water bottles onto the stage.
Ye Qiu swiftly stepped in front of Xu Liu.
“Everyone, please calm down.”
Ye Qiu soothed the crowd, saying, “Senior Xu is a master of Chinese medicine. He would never deliberately make things difficult for me.”
“If Senior Xu says it’s for my good, then it must be for my good.”
“Please, everyone, settle down and let Senior Xu explain.”
Ye Qiu was also curious to know what Xu Liu was thinking.
Xu Liu pointed at Zhang Jiuling and the others, saying, “You old fools, look at this. Ye Qiu is decades younger than you, but his magnanimity surpasses every one of you. You’ve lived all these years for nothing.”
“If I were you, I’d bash my head in right here.”
“Judging a gentleman with the heart of a petty man.”
In front of everyone, Xu Liu mocked the other three masters without sparing their feelings.
Zhang Jiuling and the others looked grim.
Xu Liu then turned to Ye Qiu, “Young Ye, you’re a medical genius, truly remarkable.”
“But you have your shortcomings.”
“You’re too young, with too little experience. If you become the Medical Sage like this, it’ll be hard to convince others.”
“After all, Chinese medicine hasn’t seen a Medical Sage in three hundred years.”
“If you want to stand at the pinnacle of Chinese medicine, looking down on all others, you must do what ordinary people cannot.”
“To wear the crown, you must bear its weight.”
“I know advanced tuberculosis is no different from cancer—a terminal illness with no hope under normal circumstances.”
“But Ye Qiu, I have high hopes for you.”
“I’ve seen your competition with Li Zhengxi. I know you’ve mastered many lost medical techniques. I hope you can create a miracle.”
“A miracle in the history of human medicine!”
“If you can cure a terminal illness, then you’ll truly be the Medical Sage, earning the respect of many.”
“Because a Chinese medicine practitioner who can treat terminal illnesses is undoubtedly a great one!”
“Only a great practitioner can lead all Chinese medicine practitioners to restore the glory of Chinese medicine.”
“Young Ye, do you understand my meaning?”
Ye Qiu nodded slightly.
He understood Xu Liu’s intention: to demonstrate absolute strength in front of everyone and claim the title of Medical Sage.
This way, even if he was young and lacked experience, no one would dare oppose him.
Only then could all Chinese medicine practitioners follow his lead and heed his call.
Li Chunfeng said, “Xu Liu, I don’t deny your intentions are good, but curing a terminal illness? We can’t do it, so how could Ye Qiu?”
“Just because we can’t doesn’t mean Ye Qiu can’t,” Xu Liu said. “I believe in Ye Qiu.”
Nie Xueliang snorted, “What good is your belief?”
“I believe in Ye Qiu too,” Zhang Jiuling suddenly said.
Nie Xueliang was stunned. “Old Zhang, you…”
“I believe Ye Qiu can create a miracle,” Zhang Jiuling declared firmly.
In that moment, he recalled how Ye Qiu had extended General Bai’s life against all odds.
If Ye Qiu could defy fate to prolong life, perhaps he could also cure a terminal illness.
“Ye Qiu, will you treat this patient?” Li Chunfeng asked. “If you give up, no one will mock you. After all, we can’t cure terminal illnesses either.”
Ye Qiu shook his head, saying, “I won’t give up.”
“As a doctor, I can never say the word ‘give up.’”
“If I give up, I’m abandoning a living person.”
Ye Qiu finished speaking and carefully observed the patient.
The patient was in his fifties. Due to advanced tuberculosis, he was extremely emaciated, like a withered stick, all skin and bones.
His complexion was poor.
His hair was like dry grass, without any lustre.
“What’s your name?” Ye Qiu asked softly.
“Yang, Yang Dawei,” the patient replied weakly.
Ye Qiu instructed the staff to bring a chair onto the stage, saying, “Mr. Yang, please sit.”
“Thank you,” Yang Dawei sat down, his expression remarkably calm.
Ye Qiu noticed this detail and asked, “Mr. Yang, you know advanced tuberculosis is a terminal illness, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Yang Dawei nodded.
“Are you afraid of dying?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have a terminal illness. It’s incurable. Being afraid of death is pointless,” Yang Dawei said. “Doctor, I’m not ashamed to admit, lately, I’ve been thinking about ending my life.”
“Firstly, the treatment is excruciating. Every hospital visit feels worse than death. Secondly, this illness is like cancer—it’s too expensive.”
“If I keep going with treatment, my son will have to sell his house.”
“My son graduated from a top university and works at a listed company, earning over three hundred thousand a year. He managed to buy a house in the city with a down payment, and life was decent enough.”
“But to pay for my treatment, he’s spent all his savings and taken on a lot of debt. If we continue, he’ll have to sell his house.”
“My son is very filial. He says he’ll do whatever it takes to cure me, but my illness is incurable. If we keep going, he’ll lose his home, and I’ll only be clinging to life for a little longer—pointless.”
“I really don’t want to burden him anymore. I want to die.”
As Yang Dawei spoke, he began to cry.
The atmosphere on stage grew heavy.
Ye Qiu’s heart ached.
As a doctor, he knew well that Yang Dawei’s thoughts were shared by many terminal patients: if it’s incurable, better to die early.
That way, they wouldn’t burden their families, or else it would end in both loss of life and money.
In that moment, a powerful resolve surged within Ye Qiu—to cure Yang Dawei.
