Chapter Fifty-five: Poisoned!

If Qin Luo had wanted to become someone who shut out the world, caring for nothing but medical formulas, he could have easily remained within his family. With centuries of accumulated expertise in medicine, the Qin family enjoyed tremendous advantages, whether it be in rare medicinal ingredients or precious ancient texts. As for enjoying the best food and drink, driving luxury cars, or courting the most beautiful women, these things held little sway for Qin Luo. Nice if they happened, but he would not go out of his way for them.

The Qin family possessed a vast business empire of its own—perhaps not on the scale of the Wenren family's colossal enterprise, but more than enough to guarantee that the Qin family’s sole heir would live a life free from material worries.

Back home, whenever his grandfather spoke of the current state of traditional medicine, there was always a sense of impotent anger and regret—anger at its decline, frustration at the lack of effort to revive it.

Traditional medicine was waning, Western medicine ascendant. A legacy that had endured for millennia in China was now being pushed toward the edge of extinction. Some even wrote scathing articles, listing cases where traditional medicine had caused harm, calling for its abolition.

The truth was not that traditional medicine was useless, but that when the time came, no one was willing to stand up for it.

Those who truly possessed great skill kept it to themselves, content only to amass wealth and pay little heed to the greater good or cultural inheritance. Meanwhile, those who paraded as heirs to imperial physicians and claimed to cure all manner of diseases were often incompetent, causing incident after incident and providing perfect targets for critics who denounced traditional medicine as worthless.

When the nation’s fate hung by a thread, countless heroes had emerged to defend it. When China’s territory and seas were threatened, countless soldiers had stepped forward. Now, as traditional medicine reached its nadir and faced extinction, someone too must step forward.

To nurture a person, first their backbone must be fostered; without backbone, what claim has one to call oneself human?

If no one else would shoulder this burden, then he would use his own slender shoulders to carry the backbone of traditional medicine.

“Traditional medicine must flourish,” Qin Luo said to himself.

This became his goal—formed from what he had seen and heard since stepping into the world.

In the film "Ip Man," Sammo Hung’s character refused to let go even as the British boxing champion beat him to death. Was it not because he had found something worth defending with his life?

In life, there are always things worth protecting.

Having refused Li Qingcheng’s generous job offer, Qin Luo returned to the Lin household by car. It was already past eight in the evening.

Seeing Qin Luo come in, Lin Qingyuan, who was drinking tea in the living room, hurried over. “Qin Luo, you’re finally back. I was about to call the police if you didn’t return soon. Why has your phone been unreachable?”

“My phone?” Qin Luo fished it from his pocket and saw that it had switched off. He had only charged it once since buying it, and after a busy day with several calls, it had died without his noticing.

“It ran out of battery,” Qin Luo said with a smile. Seeing Lin Qingyuan’s worried expression, he asked, “Grandpa Lin, is something wrong?”

“Old Li called today to ask for your phone number. I didn’t think much of it at the time—I thought he was looking for you about work. But later he called again, saying you’d been dismissed from the College of Traditional Medicine. Is that true?” Lin Qingyuan pulled Qin Luo to the sofa and poured him a cup of tea.

“Yes, I was indeed dismissed,” Qin Luo replied with a wry smile.

“Outrageous! Some places are desperate for talent, and yet they drive it away. I’m not exaggerating—your medical skills qualify you to be a chief physician at the College of Traditional Medicine, let alone a teacher!” Lin Qingyuan said angrily.

“Grandpa Lin, even if I wanted to work at the hospital, it wouldn’t be easy for you to arrange, would it?” Qin Luo replied with a smile.

“That…” Lin Qingyuan was momentarily at a loss, then sighed heavily.

Whether it’s schools or hospitals, all require certification. Without that pass, there would be much gossip and resistance. Which hospital would dare take in a doctor who didn’t even have a medical license or a formal degree?

People are alive, but institutions are rigid. Systems can save lives, but they can also harm. Ultimately, it depends on who holds the power to make the rules.

“Don’t worry. Old Li said he’ll try to think of something for you. I’ll also pull some strings and see what can be done. If all else fails, you can come work at our hospital. I refuse to believe anyone can stop you,” Lin Qingyuan said, his tone uncharacteristically cold and indignant.

“Grandpa Lin, I’m not worried, and you needn’t be either. When the cart reaches the mountain, there’ll be a way through. We’ll find a solution,” Qin Luo said, smiling to reassure him. He truly wasn’t anxious.

In fact, Li Qingyao’s attempt at revenge only strengthened Qin Luo’s resolve. The more they wanted to drive him away, the more determined he was to stay—and to live well.

“Good. That’s the spirit,” Lin Qingyuan said with relief. “Have you eaten? Shall I have someone heat up some food?”

“No need, Grandpa Lin. I’ve eaten already,” Qin Luo replied with a smile. He’d just dined with Li Qingcheng.

“All right, then. Wanxi is upstairs. You should go and talk to her—she’s been trying to reach you about your dismissal. She’s quite concerned.” Lin Qingyuan couldn’t resist putting in a good word for his granddaughter.

“All right.” Qin Luo rose from the sofa and headed upstairs.

He paused outside Lin Wanxi’s door, hesitated, and ultimately didn’t knock. Instead, he returned to his own room, intending to take a hot shower first.

After spending the day surrounded by flirtatious women, his clothes were inevitably perfumed. What if Lin Wanxi caught the scent?

He showered, changed into fresh clothes, put his phone on to charge, and booted up the laptop on his desk.

Once the system was up, the first thing Qin Luo did was move the mouse to click the little penguin icon.

There was no help for it—Qin Luo, who yearned to be fashionable but was still a computer novice, had only managed to master this one form of entertainment.

He entered the QQ number from his phone notes, followed by his six-digit password, and the little penguin bounced to life.

No sooner had he logged in than the notification sounds began to ring nonstop.

“Teacher Qin, it’s me, Xiao Min.”

“Teacher Qin, add me. I have something good for you.”

“Teacher Qin, guess who I am? Hee hee, it’s Xiaohua!”

“Teacher Qin—”

His students had not disappointed him; they’d all rushed online to add him after class.

Qin Luo kept hitting “accept,” and soon his QQ friends list grew to sixty-two.

“Are you there?” A long-haired girl’s avatar blinked; her screen name was “Summer Breeze.”

“Who are you?” Qin Luo typed with one finger. He only knew the pinyin input method.

“Lin Wanxi.”

Qin Luo was stunned—he hadn’t expected her to chat with him online. She’d refused when he’d insisted before.

“Haha. I’m here,” Qin Luo replied. It was a foolish answer—if he weren’t here, how could he reply?

“I know.”

“Did you want something, Sister Lin?” After two or three minutes, Qin Luo finally managed to type the line. His typing skills could use some work.

“I just heard about your dismissal after coming home. It’s infuriating to see you treated so unfairly. Principal Li called and said he’d help; Grandpa will think of something too. Don’t worry—the matter will soon be resolved,” Lin Wanxi wrote, comforting him.

Only then did Qin Luo realize why she was chatting with him on QQ—she wanted to comfort him, but with her personality, such words were hard for her to say aloud, so she resorted to this indirect method.

This woman… truly adorably foolish!

“Don’t worry. I’m fine,” Qin Luo replied with a smile.

“Teacher Qin, you’re online, right? Hehe, I know you are. I’ve got something good for you.” A message from “Great Wisdom in Bravery”—a bearded fellow—popped up.

Then a link appeared in the chat window.

Qin Luo clicked it, and his eyes lit up at once.

It was a marvelous site, filled with photos of beautiful girls—many of whom seemed to dislike wearing clothes.

Qin Luo was ecstatic.

As a doctor, he had every reason to study the female body more closely. Yet in reality, he’d never found the opportunity. Now, at last, he could view, from every angle, the women who might one day be his patients.

Cool, aloof beauties, busty lolitas, uniform temptresses, sexy housewives—Qin Luo felt like a country bumpkin entering a grand palace, everything new and delightful. He clicked through the pictures, utterly entranced.

“What did you just send?” Lin Wanxi messaged him.

“What?” Qin Luo was bewildered; he’d been busy browsing and hadn’t sent her anything.

“Look for yourself.”

“How?”

“Open our chat window.”

“How do I do that?”

“———”

Finally, Lin Wanxi was thunderstruck by Qin Luo’s cluelessness and dropped all pretense of reserve. She sent a QQ message with an image attached.

“Hot striptease, tempting young girls—want an early look? Click here…”

The image was of a seductive, bare-breasted woman, her legs splayed, hands covering what mattered most.

Beside her was a red arrow: Want to see more? Click here.

Qin Luo was dumbstruck.

He hadn’t sent this image—what was going on?

Then, disaster struck again.

“Teacher Qin, what did you just send?”

“Teacher Qin, shame on you, sending us filth.”

“Hehe, that’s old news. Want something spicier, Teacher Qin? We could discuss together.”

“Teacher Qin, you’re so naughty.”

“———”

With a thud, Qin Luo’s vision went black and he collapsed onto the floor.