Chapter 124: Emotional Outburst!

Qin Luo was never one to crave power and influence; to him, such things were dispensable. When he first conceived the idea of establishing a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) association, it was to unite the finest TCM talents across all of China, so they could collectively contribute to the advancement of this ancient healing art.

In his view, the president of the association should be elected through a public vote. Everyone would nominate a person of both virtue and talent to assume the role.

Yet, to his surprise, the first president was simply "appointed." This ran counter to his original vision and was the very reason he refused the position. His modest claims about being "too young" and "lacking experience" were merely excuses to decline.

Youth was natural. But when had Qin Luo ever cared about seniority or credentials?

Upon seeing Qin Luo agree, Cai Gongmin’s expression relaxed. “Qin Luo, I know this is different from your original plan. But have you considered that if the first president were chosen by public election, as you suggested, it might end up a farce rife with vote-buying and bribery? You once said you didn’t want the government to interfere too much in the association’s affairs. But what if someone influential manages to pull strings within government departments? At that point, would you let them take office, or not? The less you want something to happen, the more likely it is to occur.”

“Besides, how many members does the TCM association have now? Waiting until there are enough members to hold an election would only delay progress. We can’t afford to waste any more time. TCM has stagnated for so many years. Now is the critical moment when someone must take the reins and push this broken cart forward. There’s no room for slackening.”

Cai Gongmin guided Qin Luo to sit at the dining table, while Ming Hao promptly went to arrange the dishes. Cai continued, “The TCM association will be affiliated with the Ministry of Health, and I will personally oversee it. Of course, I will fully delegate authority to you and strive to grant you greater autonomy. Here’s what I’m thinking: for the first president, I’ve chosen you, Qin Luo. I believe in your abilities and have high hopes for you. This is a brand-new medical organization, and everything must be built from scratch—every detail, every step. There’s much to do, and it will be complicated. Therefore, I need someone capable of managing it all. As for the election system you mentioned—once you’re in office, you can promote its implementation, right?”

“Understood. I’ll do my best,” Qin Luo nodded.

Reflecting on this, he realized he had been somewhat idealistic, whereas Deputy Minister Cai had addressed the practical realities more astutely.

“However, there is one thorny issue,” Cai frowned.

“What is it?” Qin Luo asked.

“Because you proposed that the association be financially self-sufficient without government subsidies, I can’t offer substantial financial support. Perhaps all I can provide is an office space and some initial startup funds,” Cai explained.

Qin Luo thought for a moment and smiled. “Minister, I appreciate your kindness. But if the association wants to pursue genuine independence in the future, it’s best not to rely on subsidies. As for the office and startup capital, I will find a way to raise them.”

Cai nodded with a smile and patted Qin Luo firmly on the shoulder. “I knew you’d say that. Qin Luo, you’re different from others. When people take on tasks, they usually scramble for conditions, policies, and financial support. But you push those things away. If someone like you can’t make this happen, then TCM really is beyond saving.”

When Qin Luo returned to the Lin family apartment, it was already past ten at night.

The living room lights were on. Hearing the car engine, Aunt Li quickly came out with a smile. “Qin Luo, you’re back. Have you eaten? There are plenty of leftovers from dinner. If you’re hungry, I can heat some up for you.”

Because Qin Luo was kind-faced and of a gentle disposition, Aunt Li often took special care of him—sometimes even more warmly than she did Lin Wanxi.

That was understandable, as Lin Wanxi was always cold and aloof; few dared approach her warmly.

“I’ve eaten, thank you, Aunt Li,” Qin Luo smiled.

“No need to be so polite. It’s my duty,” Aunt Li replied as she closed the door.

“Where’s Grandfather Lin?” Qin Luo inquired. At this hour, Lin Qingyuan was usually in the living room reading the newspaper and drinking tea, but tonight he was nowhere to be seen.

“The old man called earlier to say he wouldn’t be coming back for dinner. Perhaps there’s something important at the hospital,” Aunt Li said softly, without waiting for Qin Luo to ask, “Miss is upstairs. She went up after dinner.”

“Alright,” Qin Luo nodded and headed upstairs.

Thinking of how Lin Wanxi had made Aunt Li wake him up early that morning as a form of revenge, Qin Luo found it amusing. He hadn’t expected this woman to have such a charming, playful side.

When he reached Lin Wanxi’s door, just as he was about to knock like last time, the door suddenly swung open from within before his hand could fall.

Lin Wanxi stood at the threshold, wearing a cotton nightgown adorned with simple, rustic patterns. Her face was expressionless as she said, “I’m not asleep.”

Qin Luo’s mouth moved, but no words came out. He hadn’t expected her to anticipate his visit and be ready in advance.

“Ha! Not asleep? Perfect. Let’s chat,” Qin Luo smiled.

“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep now,” Lin Wanxi replied.

“That’s alright. You won’t feel sleepy when you’re talking to me,” Qin Luo assured her, brimming with self-confidence.

Before she could respond, he slipped into her room. Taking a deep breath, he was immediately enveloped by a refreshing, intoxicating fragrance.

The scent of a mature woman was a man’s most potent engine—an alluring aroma that could drive one to madness.

Helpless, Lin Wanxi closed the door, standing at a distance from Qin Luo, and asked, “What do you want to talk about?”

Noticing her wary expression, Qin Luo smiled. “I feel like we’re drifting apart. When I first came to Yanjing, we used to sit on the balcony every night, drinking tea and chatting.”

Lin Wanxi was momentarily taken aback; she hadn’t expected him to bring up such a memory.

Indeed, when she was lost in despair, he had appeared in her world and opened the door to her heart, which she had long shut. As her heart gradually opened and he left his deep mark on it, he had then withdrawn.

This coming and going had transformed her emotions entirely.

Could they ever return to the way things were?

Suddenly, Lin Wanxi felt a softening in her heart. She walked past Qin Luo, crouched down to retrieve the tea set and tea box from the cabinet, and headed out to the balcony.

Qin Luo smiled and followed her.

Winter had arrived in Yanjing, and the air grew brisk. Though the starry sky outside was dazzling, fresh air was inaccessible.

The balcony was sealed with transparent glass, and the indoor heating was ample, so Lin Wanxi felt no chill despite her light nightwear.

Her tea-making was as practiced and graceful as ever. Her face showed no joy, yet there was a look of absorption—whether she was enamored with the art of tea or the warmth of their private moment, no one could tell.

Qin Luo lifted the cup she handed him, inhaled the scent, and said with a smile, “Delicious. It’s been so long since I drank tea brewed by Sister Lin.”

Lin Wanxi sipped her tea silently, choosing not to respond.

Qin Luo understood this was just her nature and didn’t mind. How many men could sit across from Lin Wanxi, drinking tea she had personally brewed?

“What were you doing earlier?” Qin Luo asked.

“Reading,” she replied.

“Reading? I like reading too. What book?” Qin Luo finally found a thread to hold onto and clung to it.

She neither followed celebrities nor cared for fashion, had no interest in the latest LV bags, and besides tending to her plants, had no particular hobbies—communicating with her was no simple task.

Lin Wanxi said nothing further, evidently unwilling to disclose what she was reading.

Qin Luo’s sharp eyes caught sight of an open book on the bedside table. He stood and quickly retrieved it.

“A poetry collection,” he said with a smile. Few people nowadays read poetry, especially works by foreign poets.

Flipping to the folded page where Lin Wanxi had stopped reading, Qin Luo prepared to recite aloud with passion, only to freeze in surprise.

The entire page was in English!

Embarrassed, he chuckled, “You’re so learned, reading books no one else can understand.”

Lin Wanxi glanced up and said, “There’s a translation afterward.” She knew he didn’t understand English.

Qin Luo turned to the next page and found a translation in Chinese.

He skimmed it quickly, and seeing no unfamiliar characters, began to read aloud:

“In years gone by, your hair grayed at the temples, heavy with drowsiness,
Sitting by the hearth, dozing slowly, take down this poetry collection of mine,
Read it gently, like a dream, and you will revisit
Your tender gaze, once so full of deep affection and gentle beauty.”

“Stop,” Lin Wanxi said.

“I think it’s quite beautiful,” Qin Luo smiled. What started as mere showmanship surprised him with its exquisite imagery.

“How many have loved your radiant charm,
Your captivating face, be it genuine or a mere act,
But only one loved your pure and sincere heart!
When you washed away the makeup and mourned the loss of youth, he still loved you deeply.”

“Stop,” Lin Wanxi said again, her voice rising.

“The fire in the hearth burns warm and bright, you bow your head softly,
With a hint of sorrow, whispering for love that has withered and died,
Meanwhile, he wanders alone across mountains and valleys,
Behind the countless stars that gaze upon you, his face hides.”

After reading, Qin Luo was lost in thought. “It’s beautifully written. Too bad I can’t write poetry.”

Then smiling, he added, “Sister Lin, when you’re old, I probably won’t write poems for you, but I can heal you. The elderly often suffer health problems; I promise to keep you glowing and healthy.”

Lin Wanxi’s long-suppressed emotions finally erupted. She smashed her teacup onto the coffee table, her eyes blazing with anger as she screamed hoarsely, “Why are you always like this? Why are you always like this?”