Chapter Nineteen: The Eye of the Storm, A Father and Daughter’s Midnight Conversation

Reputation is a double-edged sword.

It brings countless people seeking help, but also endless trouble.

The threshold of Peaceful Harmony Hall has nearly been worn away by the constant stream of visitors. I have been forced to set new rules: only ten patients per day, and only those with rare or serious illnesses; I no longer treat common ailments. Even so, the line outside stretches from one end of the street to the other.

What troubles me more, however, is the “attention” from all directions.

The city health department has sent officials to investigate my so-called “unlicensed practice.” Yet after combing through my medical records, they find nothing but the gentlest of dietary prescriptions—no strong medicine to be found. My main methods are acupuncture and massage, which legally fall under “traditional health care,” leaving them with nothing they can fault me for.

Experts and scholars from major hospitals have come to “visit,” ostensibly for academic exchange but truly to probe. They wish to use the most advanced instruments to analyze my techniques, to deconstruct my medical reasoning. I politely refuse them all, citing “family secrets passed down through generations, not to be shared.”

Reporters from the media hover around like flies, circling day and night, trying to dig up the past of this so-called “mysterious miracle doctor.”

I have managed to keep Yi Yi well protected, personally escorting her to and from home each day, never allowing her to be exposed to a single camera lens. Yet this life, lived under the relentless gaze of countless eyes, has left me with a long-forgotten sense of irritation.

Late one night, after treating my last patient, I returned to the backyard, weary to the bone.

Yi Yi was still awake. She brought me a cup of warm water, and, imitating my gestures with her tiny hands, gently massaged my temples like a little adult.

“Papa, you’re tired,” she said softly.

A warmth spread through my heart. Taking her little hand in mine, I smiled, “Not at all. As long as I see my Yi Yi, I feel strength fill my whole body.”

She was quiet for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Papa, why do we have to help so many people? They’re so noisy. You don’t even have time to help me with my homework.”

Children’s words are always the most direct and pure.

Looking into her clear eyes, I carefully considered how to answer.

I couldn’t tell her it was to accumulate good karma, or to better fit into this era—that would sound too calculating to a child.

I gathered her into my arms and pointed to the bright moon hanging in the night sky, speaking softly:

“Yi Yi, do you see the moon? It doesn’t shine by itself; its light comes from the sun. The strength in our bodies is like sunlight. We share a little of it with those shrouded in darkness so they too can see the light. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“But… will they take away all our light?” she asked, a little worried.

“They won’t.” I shook my head, my voice gentle but firm. “Because Papa is the sun. As long as Papa is here, our light will never go out. And one day, my Yi Yi will become a little moon herself, maybe even brighter than Papa, the sun.”

I paused, then continued, “Yi Yi, remember this: ability isn’t for showing off, nor for hiding away. Ability is a responsibility. We receive peace and happiness from this world; when others are in trouble, we lend a helping hand if we can—that’s called giving back. Like your best friend Stone—if he falls down, would you help him up?”

“I would!” she answered without hesitation.

“That’s right.” I smiled. “Those patients are like strangers who’ve fallen. We help them up, and then we go on our way. We don’t need to mind their noise or their curiosity. All we need to do is guard our own hearts and live our own lives well.”

Yi Yi nodded, half-understanding. She might not fully grasp words like “responsibility” and “giving back” yet, but she understood that what Papa did was a good thing—like helping a friend who has fallen.

“Papa, I understand. You’re the sun, and I’m the little moon!”