Chapter 50: The National Medical Sage, Chen Mo Sets His Sights on Yan Bugui

Chen Mo became a rising legend in the medical circles of the capital—untouchable and revered. The title of “Master of Traditional Medicine” spread silently yet swiftly among the elite.

Not only did he have the unbreakable backing of Li Zhenguo, but Factory Director Yang Weiguo also treated him like a revered ancestor. That afternoon, all the paperwork for a two-bedroom apartment in the Engineers’ Building—boasting the best view and largest space—was completed.

Red brick walls, wooden floors, spacious bright glass windows, plus a private bathroom and kitchen. Compared to the damp, dark pigeon coop in the old courtyard, where even going to the toilet meant running a long distance, this place was pure heaven.

When Chen Mo drove a factory-provided truck to move from the courtyard, everyone in the yard came out to watch. They carefully observed the workers loading the brand-new furniture from Chen Mo’s small room onto the truck.

Every face was etched with complicated emotions: envy, jealousy, reverence, and a trace of fear. This young man before them no longer belonged to their world.

Qin Huairu hid behind her curtain, stealing glances. When her eyes met Chen Mo’s in the air, she startled, shrinking back like a frightened rabbit, her heart pounding wildly. She no longer even dared to look at him directly.

Shazhu leaned against his own doorway, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, his gaze dark. Qin Huairu’s cousin, Qin Jingru, busily served him tea and water. Thanks to Qin Huairu’s scheming, this simple-minded country girl had taken Shazhu as her future husband, revolving her days around him.

Shazhu neither accepted nor rejected her. His spirit was dead—lost all passion for life or women. Watching the confident Chen Mo ready to leave the dilapidated compound, his heart churned with mixed feelings.

Hatred? Of course he hated him. But more than that was a bone-deep helplessness. The gap between him and Chen Mo was so vast that he no longer even had the right to be jealous.

Yi Zhonghai hobbled over on his cane, wearing a flattering smile. “Doctor Chen... moving? Congratulations, congratulations!” He tried to cozy up and mend fences.

But Chen Mo merely glanced at him coldly, not uttering a word, walking straight past. Yi Zhonghai’s smile froze, his old face flushing red and pale in embarrassment. He knew he had utterly lost all value in the eyes of this new power.

Amidst this strange atmosphere, only one person’s eyes darted around, scheming—Third Uncle Yan Bugui. Watching the now-vacant room Chen Mo had left, his mind raced.

To Yan Bugui, now that Chen Mo had become a big shot living in a building, he surely wouldn’t want the shabby flat anymore. With First Uncle Yi Zhonghai’s reputation in tatters and Second Uncle Liu Haizhong failing to gain influence, wasn’t the courtyard now under his control?

His mental abacus clicked wildly. He fixed his sights on the roughly seven or eight square meters of communal land at the center of the yard. He had long wanted to build a small shed there to store junk and secretly raise a few hens. Their eggs could improve his life and be sold for money.

Before, he dared not act with Yi Zhonghai looming over him. Now, he sensed opportunity.

Without hesitation, early the next morning, Yan Bugui brought bricks and timber, clattering as he began erecting a wall and shed in the courtyard’s center.

The others only whispered and pointed, none daring to speak up. Shazhu was indifferent, Qin Huairu avoided trouble, and Yi Zhonghai pretended not to see.

Yan Bugui beamed with pride at their silent fury. Finally, he felt he was the true “master” of the courtyard.

What he did not know was that every move he made had already been seen through the window by Chen Mo, who had “coincidentally” returned to retrieve a few things from his new home.

Chen Mo watched the smug Yan Bugui, who took pride in his petty gains, and a cold smile flickered across his face.

He did not act rashly. Confronting such a calculating, image-conscious “man of culture” directly was too crude. What he wanted was to ruin Yan Bugui utterly, to strip away what he treasured most.

Back in his new apartment, Chen Mo picked up the black phone on the desk. He found a number and dialed.

“Hello, is this the Municipal Appearance and Style Management Office?”

A formal voice responded, “Yes, how may we assist you?”

“I’d like to report an illegal construction. At No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, in the courtyard, someone has encroached on public land and built unauthorized structures, causing serious problems.”

“Understood, comrade. Please provide details and the person’s name.”

A curve lifted the corner of Chen Mo’s mouth.

“The person is Yan Bugui, a Chinese language teacher at the nearby primary school.”

He emphasized the word “teacher” heavily.

“A role model for children, a people’s educator, yet he leads in breaking laws and harming public interests. This is not only a case of illegal construction but a matter of professional ethics. How can such a person properly teach our next generation?”

Silence stretched a few seconds on the line, then the formal voice grew serious.

“Comrade, rest assured, we take this very seriously. We will immediately coordinate with the education department to form an investigative team. They will inspect and handle the matter first thing tomorrow morning.”

Chen Mo hung up.

Yan Bugui, you love scheming, don’t you? Care so much about your image? Cherish your “teacher” identity above all?

I will make you suffer a downfall so complete, so public, that you’ll never rise again—in front of your students, your precious reputation shattered forever.

The next day, sunlight bathed the courtyard. Yan Bugui hummed a tune as he nailed the last plank atop his brand-new shed.

Hands on hips, he admired his handiwork as if it were a masterpiece.

Suddenly, the roar of engines sounded at the gate. Two trucks pulled up, one behind the other.

From one truck stepped several burly men in blue uniforms, wielding hammers and crowbars, their armbands reading “City Appearance Management.”

From the other emerged a group of serious-looking middle-aged officials in cadre attire.

Their leader, carrying a briefcase, strode straight to Yan Bugui, his voice icy.

“Are you Yan Bugui, teacher at Red Star Primary School?”

“We are the district education bureau’s disciplinary inspection team. You are hereby formally notified that we have received a citizen’s real-name complaint. We will conduct a serious investigation into your personal conduct and professional ethics.”

Yan Bugui’s smile froze instantly. He watched the men with hammers approaching his beloved shed, then the stern officials before him. His mind went blank.

He felt as if the sky had collapsed.