Seeing the doctors in the room murmuring and shaking their heads, Qi Yue gritted her teeth and made a decision. “Doctor An said it’s beyond cure, so he’s not coming,” she announced loudly.

This statement caused an uproar among the assembled physicians. Chang Yuncheng’s expression flickered with surprise; he glanced at Qi Yue, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, choosing instead to stand steadily to the side.

“What? Old Doctor An said it cannot be cured!” “Heavens, then what are we even here for!” “If the elder doctor cannot cure it, how can we?” The physicians grew visibly agitated, one after another.

It made sense then—why the Xie manor had suddenly summoned them. In Shan Ning Prefecture, any family of standing would only ever seek out the elder Doctor An; if they couldn't secure him, they would clamor for his juniors...

It turned out the primary physician had already declared the case hopeless... Instantly, the faces of all the doctors fell.

What were they doing here, making fools of themselves... Qi Yue saw their thoughts with a single glance.

“Furthermore, Doctor An also said the infant won’t last until nightfall,” she added. Of course, it was Young Doctor An who had said it wouldn’t last the night, but since they shared the same surname, the sentiment was close enough; a slight embellishment was justifiable.

The doctors shook their heads and sighed even more deeply. “However, you can all observe the infant right now,” Qi Yue said, pointing behind her with conviction.

The doctors paused, following the direction of her gaze. The infant, propped in an odd posture by planks and pillows, though its eyes were shut tight and its breathing ragged, was undeniably, vividly alive...

The implication hung heavy in the air... Everyone unconsciously turned to look at Qi Yue.

“The implication is that Doctor An’s pronouncement is not necessarily the final word,” Qi Yue took a deep breath and tilted her head slightly. “As healers, we must adhere to our true calling, not simply believe whatever others decree.

No one can treat every ailment, just as no one should refuse to attempt treating what they don't know, simply because it's unfamiliar. For us, there should be no existing boundaries between ‘can’ and ‘cannot.’ Our only consideration must be how to treat.

A predecessor once said that the world has no paths until people walk them, and medicine is the same. Consider the earliest knowledge of illness—did ancient people know how to treat it initially?

Yet Shennong tasted hundreds of herbs to experiment. Because of that, we now possess our accumulated medical experiences and prescriptions.

If, back then, someone had declared a disease incurable and everyone agreed without further trial, how much of our current medical knowledge would we have inherited?” She finished in one breath, offering a slight smile as she surveyed the doctors, who were now listening with slack jaws. “To put it more simply,” Qi Yue’s gaze swept over them, “the feeling of curing someone that Old Doctor An deemed beyond saving...

I wonder what that sensation is like...” This struck a chord, stirring the shocked stillness of the physicians. What was she saying?

Did she understand the gravity of her words? This...

this... But she wasn’t finished.

Qi Yue continued. “I imagine it must be incredible!

Hey, don't you doctors often get compared to that Doctor An? Tsk tsk...” She shook her head with feigned pity as she regarded them.

“Unless it’s an absolute last resort, those prominent, aristocratic families won’t call upon you, will they? And even if they do, won’t they always mention Doctor An first?” The reality of her words was undeniable, and a faint flush crept onto the faces of those present.

“It’s no shame to admit being less skilled,” one doctor muttered, his face stern. How could this woman speak so harshly?

One doesn't bring up old wounds or strike a person’s face! Yet, here she was, deliberately exposing their deepest vulnerabilities.

“That doctor speaks well!” Qi Yue laughed loudly, even clapping her hands in applause. “Admitting inferiority takes courage!

It deserves respect!” Respect my foot! Who wants that kind of respect!

The doctor’s face darkened further, and he turned to leave with a dramatic sweep of his sleeve. “Admitting lesser skill is fine; I admit it too.

I am inferior to all of you in the skills you possess,” Qi Yue continued, still smiling. The departing doctor paused, unable to resist hearing what else this woman might say.

“But there is one thing I will never admit,” Qi Yue’s smile vanished, her gaze pinning the assembled doctors. “And that is the lack of courage.” Courage?

The doctors looked at her expectantly. “I will never admit that I lack the spirit to even try, simply because of fear, because of lesser skill, or because someone else has already passed judgment!” Qi Yue declared.

Having spoken, Qi Yue turned away from the doctors and bent low over the infant again, forcefully repeating the breaths into its mouth. A profound silence settled in the room; those who had been leaving or had turned away remained frozen in place.

“This, since you say it is internal bleeding, I believe we must treat the liver first,” one doctor suddenly announced, turning to snatch up a writing brush and dip it in ink. “I’ll write a prescription to try.” “No, no, I think expelling phlegm should take precedence,” another physician interjected, stroking his beard in contemplation.

“This child’s vital energy and blood are not firm, the organs are extremely fragile, belonging to nascent Yin and nascent Yang; given the stupor and convulsions, and the chaotic reversal of qi and blood, removing the blood stasis is paramount.” “...Ejiao nourishes the blood and fortifies the liver, while Astragalus, Codonopsis, and Huai Yam boost qi...” “...How can we omit Xian He Cao?” “...Indeed, Sanqi might be better...” “...I firmly believe we must add leech to dissolve the clots...” Qi Yue, dizzy and breathless from the continuous mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, couldn't follow the specific medical jargon, and even if she could, she probably wouldn’t understand it. She stood up to catch her breath, not glancing back at the doctors now deeply immersed in heated discussion and dispute.

Her part was to point the direction; the correct dosages and pairings were up to them. She immediately bent down again to resume the artificial respiration.

Outside the door, the Xie family members were also gathered in a crowd. Old Madam Xie sat in a circular chair, wrapped tightly in a heavy cloak.

Because she refused to wait in an adjacent room, the Eldest Master, the Eldest Mistress, and others had no choice but to remain there as well. Thus, everyone had overheard the exchange inside.

“Are these quacks capable of anything...” the Eldest Mistress frowned, anxiously glancing toward the door before turning back to Old Madam Xie. “Mother, perhaps I should go myself, offer a larger reward, and beg Old Doctor An to come...

These people, they are simply fooling around! Look at the things they are using—wooden boards and a brazier—can that possibly cure an illness?

And these doctors, they can’t even draft a single prescription amongst themselves; they just argue together...” Old Madam Xie remained silent and unmoving. “Mother!” The Eldest Mistress raised her voice, looking at her son and daughter-in-law standing outside, rooted to the spot, and then at her own direct eldest grandson.

“My maternal grandson’s face is precious, and my grandson is your great-grandson too! You...

you are being too biased!” With that, she threw up her hand and stalked off. The Eldest Master failed to reprimand her and quickly knelt before Old Madam Xie to beg forgiveness.

“It’s fine; she’s a blockhead, ignore her,” Old Madam Xie said slowly. “Then, then, Mother, should we truly go invite Old Doctor An...” the Eldest Master asked after a moment of hesitation.

In the end, they profoundly distrusted the people inside the room. “No need,” Old Madam Xie gripped her cane, sitting ramrod straight in her chair, and stated firmly, “Since Old Doctor An is unwilling, we will not force him.” The door of the An residence had been hammered awake in the dead of night, a common occurrence for a family of physicians, though everyone looked somewhat resigned.

Young Doctor An watched the distraught Eldest Mistress of the Xie family pacing anxiously in the reception hall. He sighed lightly.

“Madam Xie,” he stepped forward and bowed. “Young Doctor An, please, still ask the elder doctor to come,” the Eldest Mistress pleaded, her face etched with anxiety, her voice thick with near-tears.

“My grandson was so difficult to bring into this world; if anything happens to him, my daughter-in-law won’t be able to bear it either...” Young Doctor An invited her to sit, but the Eldest Mistress was too frantic to comply. “Madam, it is not that we refuse to save him, but truly that we cannot,” he said softly.

“Madam, this infant’s acute febrile seizure is fierce and sudden; it is utterly incurable—a terminal affliction. Madam, that is why Bian Que turned away from Marquis Huan all those years ago.” “But, but this illness isn't incurable!” the Eldest Mistress cried, desperately grasping at fragments of words she’d overheard.

“It’s... it’s bleeding in the...

the brain... as long as the bleeding stops, uh...

stopping the bleeding... reducing...

reducing what...” “Brain bleeding?” Young Doctor An frowned, not quite grasping her meaning. “What brain bleeding?” The Eldest Mistress had no idea.

“In any case, it can be treated! Right now, my daughter-in-law is treating him with a group of doctors from the street...” she could only manage.

Young Doctor An looked utterly astonished, followed by a bitter smile. As the saying goes, when desperate, one seeks any cure; it was understandable.

“Then we can only wish the young master great fortune and longevity,” he nodded. “No, that’s not what I meant,” the Eldest Mistress quickly refuted.

“How can they handle it? Old Doctor An still needs to take a look.” Young Doctor An sighed, returning to the same point.

“Madam, please forgive us, but we truly cannot,” he offered a respectful bow. “Then I won’t leave!” The Eldest Mistress flung her hand out and sat down decisively.

This situation was neither new nor troublesome for Young Doctor An. “Someone, bring tea for Madam Xie,” he said gently.

Servants immediately brought tea, thoughtfully providing a cushion and a blanket. “Madam, the night is cold,” Young Doctor An commented.

The Eldest Mistress felt a lump in her throat, glared for a long moment, then angrily snatched the cushion and blanket. I won't leave!

See what you can do about that! Young Doctor An hesitated for a moment before leaving the hall.

“Should we inform the Old Master?” a servant asked. “No need,” Young Doctor An replied.

“The Xie family will send word by morning, and Madam Xie will naturally return then.” The word they would send would naturally be news of the child’s death... The servant lowered his head in silence.

“However...” Young Doctor An paused slightly, recalling what Madam Xie had said, and raised a hand to stroke his beard. “Brain bleeding...” The servant looked at him, confused.

Young Doctor An looked out at the courtyard, smiled faintly, shook his head, pulled his cloak tighter, and walked down the corridor without another word.