Wu Youdao’s face now held a hint of astonishment. Su Shaohua was an old friend, and Wu Youdao knew his tastes intimately: Su Shaohua didn't smoke, rarely drank, but had a deep passion for antique objects and possessed considerable expertise in ancient artifacts.

He was also well aware of Su Shaohua’s standing in the Changjing collecting circles—it was far from low. Su Shaohua had even served as an appraiser for several auction houses; he was quite a prominent figure among the local connoisseurs.

If even Su Shaohua praised Zhang Yang, it meant Zhang Yang must truly be exceptional. “Mr.

Su is too kind. I happened to see something similar when I was young, though certainly not as fine as yours!” Zhang Yang smiled and shook his head.

Seeing the artifact brought back memories, making him think of his grandfather. Though his grandfather had become a Daoist priest, he had treated Zhang Yang exceptionally well and favored him above all others.

The inscription in his family home had been carried back by Zhang Yang himself after walking twenty li up the mountain path with his grandfather, leaving a deep impression. That inscription had accompanied his grandfather for a long time, and upon his passing, it had been left to Zhang Yang, kept safely at home.

However, in this current era, both his grandfather and that original home likely no longer existed. “I see, but this is still quite rare!” Su Shaohua smiled, not entirely believing Zhang Yang’s explanation.

Such inscriptions were few, and identical ones were exceptionally scarce. Even if they were identical, they might not be from the same period.

Su Shaohua had noted that Zhang Yang had only glanced at it a few times before confidently declaring it Jianjing period work and asserting its significant value—a judgment only a true expert would dare make. “Mr.

Su, I know your time is precious, and mine is limited as well. Let’s return to the main point and resolve your troubles as soon as possible!” Zhang Yang walked directly to a nearby armchair and sat down himself, smiling at Su Shaohua.

Wu Youdao nodded in agreement. “Zhang Yang is right, Shaohua.

Let Zhang Yang examine you first!” “Very well, then, I trouble Dr. Zhang!” Su Shaohua nodded slightly and sat in the armchair next to Zhang Yang.

Although he now felt a slight goodwill toward Zhang Yang, his confidence remained low. His primary thought was simply not to disappoint his good friend’s intentions; regardless of whether Zhang Yang could cure him, he resolved to cooperate, understanding Wu Youdao’s genuine care for him.

“Extend your hand!” Zhang Yang made no pleasantries and stated it directly. As he said this, Su Shaohua suddenly felt that Zhang Yang appeared remarkably steady and composed, nothing like a young man of twenty.

From Zhang Yang, he sensed a powerful self-assurance, a gravity unbefitting his years—qualities he had never perceived in Wu Youdao. At that moment, he began to believe Wu Youdao’s earlier assertions: Zhang Yang might indeed possess medical skills surpassing even his own.

It was just that his ailment wasn't one that mere skill could cure. He had met many grand masters of the medical way, all of whom had been helpless, which was why his faith in Zhang Yang wavered.

He couldn't fathom that this youthful man could be superior to so many renowned doctors across the globe. Su Shaohua extended his hand, and Zhang Yang’s two fingers gently settled upon his pulse point.

This time, Su Shaohua was not surprised; Wu Youdao had already informed him that Zhang Yang was a master of Traditional Chinese Medicine, so taking the pulse was expected. Zhang Yang’s hand rested on Su Shaohua’s pulse point for only a short while before his brow slowly knitted together in concentration.

Soon after, his two fingers reduced to one, and his frown deepened. Afu entered at that moment, carrying freshly brewed, excellent tea.

Seeing the scene in the room, he remained silent, merely brewing and serving tea to everyone before standing quietly to one side, waiting to see if Su Shaohua had any further instructions. After another moment, Zhang Yang’s single finger transformed into just the fingertip resting on the pulse, his brow severely furrowed, his eyes slightly closed as if lost in deep thought.

It took a full five minutes before Zhang Yang withdrew his hand, ceasing the examination. “Zhang Yang, what are your thoughts?” As soon as Zhang Yang drew back, Wu Youdao asked impatiently, appearing even more anxious than Su Shaohua.

“Elder Wu, please wait a moment!” Zhang Yang gently shook his head, turned to look at Su Shaohua, and slowly inquired, “How many years have you suffered from this illness?” “I am sixty this year, and this ailment has been with me for thirty-five years, starting after I turned twenty-five!” Su Shaohua let out a wry smile. This disease had shadowed him for more than half his life.

He had sought treatment from the moment it appeared, and still, it persisted—no wonder he lacked confidence in Zhang Yang. Perhaps, deep down, he had long since succumbed to despair.

“In the very beginning, did certain fruits trigger a reaction, such as apples?” Zhang Yang asked again. Su Shaohua jerked his head up sharply, staring at Zhang Yang in astonishment.

After a few seconds, he heavily nodded. “Yes, you are correct.

When I was thirty, I suddenly developed an allergy to apples; eating one would trigger the episode. No cause was ever found, and many people even ridiculed me for it back then!” Zhang Yang’s question genuinely startled Su Shaohua.

He had never told anyone about the apple incidents, not even Wu Youdao. Afu also looked surprised.

Su Shaohua hadn't eaten an apple in thirty years; only a select few knew this fact. Zhang Yang stating it outright was indeed remarkable.

Su Shaohua’s confirmation caused Zhang Yang’s brow to furrow even tighter. “After apples, were you unable to consume other fruits like pears and peaches?

Furthermore, after you turned thirty-five, did pollen also begin to cause reactions? And subsequently, did some of the medications you were taking become counterproductive, worsening with continued use?” Zhang Yang asked a further question, and Su Shaohua’s eyes widened further.

After a moment, he recovered, nodding excitedly: “Yes, you are absolutely right. I truly haven't eaten peaches or pears for many years.

Around forty, I couldn’t go anywhere with heavy pollen or catkins. Also, many drugs I was taking at the time became unusable.

I consulted several doctors for a second opinion just to find a temporary alternative treatment plan!” This time, Su Shaohua involuntarily used respectful terms toward Zhang Yang, sounding exceptionally agitated. He couldn’t help but be emotional.

Over the years, he had seen countless doctors, yet Zhang Yang was the most accurate, even knowing about specific dietary restrictions he rarely disclosed. None of the other physicians had been as precise as Zhang Yang.

He briefly considered whether Wu Youdao might have leaked information to Zhang Yang, but he immediately dismissed the thought. Wu Youdao didn't even know about some of the earliest details; how could he have told Zhang Yang?

This could only mean Zhang Yang had deduced everything himself. To discern so much merely by taking a pulse—Su Shaohua didn't know how to describe his current feeling.

He hadn't experienced this sensation in years: the feeling of hope. “I understand now,” Zhang Yang slowly said, exhaling softly, his brow relaxing slightly, though a trace of perplexity remained in his eyes.

Regarding Su Shaohua’s condition, Zhang Yang was now completely certain it was Park-Zhang Syndrome. However, that wasn't the main point; the crucial factor was that Su Shaohua’s presentation was an exact match for a previous patient of his.

That former patient was Li Fang, a wealthy German-Chinese individual. He was the very first patient Zhang Yang and Park had successfully cured together.

It was precisely because of this that Zhang Yang remembered him so vividly. The moment he felt Su Shaohua’s pulse, he recognized the identical wave pattern to Li Fang’s.

That was why he asked those specific questions; relying solely on the pulse, even Zhang Yang couldn't have known so much detail. “Dr.

Zhang, can you cure me?” Su Shaohua, newly imbued with hope, looked at Zhang Yang with intense nervousness. He had been so indifferent earlier because he lacked faith in Zhang Yang and felt hopeless about his own condition.

But once new hope appeared, his composure naturally shattered. No one wished to be tortured by an illness for decades.

The agony of every flare-up had made Su Shaohua yearn for death; he was desperate to be released from this suffering. Wu Youdao watched Zhang Yang anxiously as well, his face a mixture of shock and joy.

He hadn't expected Zhang Yang to glean so much information purely from the pulse reading. This deepened his admiration for Zhang Yang; among the renowned TCM practitioners he knew, none could achieve what Zhang Yang had just done.

This only made Zhang Yang seem even more mysterious in his eyes. Zhang Yang gazed at Su Shaohua, causing beads of sweat to surface on the man’s brow.

He feared hearing words like, "I am powerless," phrases he had heard far too many times over the years. “Curing it is possible!” Zhang Yang finally spoke.

Those few words alone made Su Shaohua’s heart leap with relief; Zhang Yang’s response was an immense, unexpected joy to him. “That’s wonderful!” Wu Youdao exclaimed happily.

Zhang Yang could treat it! He had been right to invite Zhang Yang to see his old friend, whose suffering could finally be alleviated or eradicated.

“Elder Wu, don't celebrate too soon. Let me finish explaining!” Zhang Yang shook his head again.

His statement immediately made Wu Youdao and Su Shaohua tense up once more. Even Afu, standing nearby, couldn't help but step forward two paces, staring wide-eyed at Zhang Yang.

“Please, tell us. I can handle it,” Su Shaohua took a deep breath, steadying his wildly beating heart.

He truly was a business magnate; his composure was excellent, adjusting so quickly was no small feat. Zhang Yang nodded slightly and continued: “First, your illness has persisted for too long; I certainly cannot cure it in the short term.

I estimate it will take a minimum of half a year. However, within those six months, I can improve your condition, reducing the frequency and severity of your attacks.” He paused, took a sip of tea, and continued speaking: “Second, this illness cannot be managed by TCM alone; it requires Western medical assistance.

But the medications I need are highly complex and unavailable on the market now. I will have to formulate them specifically for you, which will take time, and these compounded prescriptions will require your cooperation.” “No problem.

I will fully cooperate with whatever you need. Half a year isn’t long; I can wait.” As soon as Zhang Yang finished speaking, Su Shaohua immediately nodded.

Having endured it for over thirty years, he didn't mind waiting another half-year, as long as the suffering could finally be ended. “Very well, as long as you cooperate fully, I guarantee that this disease will be completely cured!” Zhang Yang smiled and nodded.

Wu Youdao, who had been watching with an expression of relief, suddenly froze, looking at Zhang Yang with utter disbelief.