Chapter 7: Third Uncle’s Calculations Backfire, Losing a Bit of Rice

Xu Damao stood in the center of the courtyard for a long while, but in the end, he slunk back to his own home in defeat.

The blow was too great for him; he needed time to process it.

Seeing that the excitement had died down, the others in the yard gradually dispersed.

Only Third Uncle Yan Bugui remained, standing in place with a flicker in his eyes, clearly scheming something.

The skill Chen Mo had just displayed once again shattered Yan Bugui’s understanding.

If curing Shazhu’s leg before could be dismissed as a stroke of luck or some folk remedy, then this time, diagnosing Xu Damao’s private ailment at a glance was no coincidence at all.

This was genuine skill! To be able to discern such intimate ailments merely by observation—how high must his medical art be?

Yan Bugui’s little mental calculations sped up.

Chen Mo was like a walking golden nugget right now!

No, he had to establish a good relationship with him.

Even if he couldn’t learn anything directly, if someone in the family felt unwell in the future, having Chen Mo take a look would surely beat waiting in line at the hospital. Maybe they could even save a fair amount of money.

Yes, saving money! That was the key!

Yan Bugui made up his mind to take the initiative.

Clearing his throat, hands behind his back, he paced in a square and strolled to Chen Mo’s door.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

“Who is it?” Chen Mo’s voice came from inside.

“Little Chen, it’s me, Third Uncle,” Yan Bugui tried to sound friendly and approachable.

After a moment, the door opened. Chen Mo looked at Yan Bugui outside, somewhat surprised.

“Third Uncle, what’s up?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing—can’t I just drop by for a visit?”

Yan Bugui smiled warmly and glanced inside.

“Little Chen, your place is pretty neat and bright.”

As he spoke, he tried to step inside.

Chen Mo stood firm at the door, neither moving nor inviting him in.

“Third Uncle, if you have something to say, just say it here. My place is messy; I won’t be inviting you in,” Chen Mo said coolly.

He didn’t want to risk anything going missing and having to argue with this stingy old man.

Yan Bugui’s face showed a hint of discomfort, but he still forced a smile: “Alright, alright, we’ll talk here. Little Chen, your medical skill is truly amazing! What you did with Xu Damao just now, the whole yard saw it—you really are like Hua Tuo reborn!”

Flattering first was Yan Bugui’s usual tactic.

Chen Mo remained unmoved, quietly watching him, waiting for him to get to the point.

“Well… Little Chen,”

Yan Bugui rubbed his hands nervously and finally got to the subject.

“You see, we’re neighbors in the same courtyard and have always gotten along well. Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit off.”

He even pretended to rub his waist.

“My neck and shoulders feel quite sore. Could you… take a look for Third Uncle?”

Chen Mo smirked inwardly. Here it comes.

“Sure.”

Chen Mo nodded.

“But Third Uncle, I’ll be upfront—I do charge for treatment.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Yan Bugui hurriedly nodded.

“I understand the rules. But you see, since we’re neighbors, could you give me a neighbor’s discount?”

He held up two fingers, gesturing: “How about twenty cents? Just to write me a prescription; I’ll get the medicine myself.”

Twenty cents?

Chen Mo nearly laughed in disbelief.

Even hospital registration costs ten cents; this miracle doctor’s fee was only twenty cents?

This old miser was calculating to the bone.

“Third Uncle, I already told you, my consultation starts at ten yuan.”

Chen Mo said expressionlessly.

“Ten yuan?!” Yan Bugui jumped up as if stung by a cat.

“Little Chen, that’s highway robbery! It’s just a sore neck, not a big problem—why ten yuan?”

“Third Uncle, that’s the value of my medical skill,” Chen Mo said calmly.

“If you think it’s expensive, you can go to the hospital. Registration is ten cents, consultation twenty cents, medicine a few more cents—less than a yuan total. Your choice.”

Yan Bugui immediately wilted.

Of course, he knew the hospital was cheaper, but he came today hoping to pay nothing or as little as possible.

Let Chen Mo take a look, and maybe even gauge Chen Mo’s background so he could take advantage later.

But this was nothing like what he expected.

“Then… could it be cheaper? Five yuan? Three would be fine!”

Yan Bugui began to bargain.

“No,” Chen Mo said firmly.

Yan Bugui grew anxious, eyes darting as he thought of another plan.

“Little Chen, how about this?

I won’t let you see me for free—I’m an intellectual. I’ll help you with ideas, analyze things for you in the courtyard from time to time. That’s worth more than ten yuan!”

He wanted to barter his so-called “wisdom” for the consultation fee.

Chen Mo found his self-satisfied look amusing.

Fine, if he wanted to bargain, Chen Mo would play along.

“Third Uncle, if you put it that way, it’s not impossible.”

Yan Bugui’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Really,” Chen Mo nodded and then gave Yan Bugui a thorough once-over, making Yan Bugui uneasy.

“Third Uncle, your problem isn’t just neck pain or shoulder soreness,” Chen Mo said seriously.

“Is that so? What is it then?” Yan Bugui asked anxiously.

“You suffer from… ‘calculating conscience syndrome.’”

“What? Calculating conscience syndrome?”

Yan Bugui had never heard of it and looked baffled.

“Yes,” Chen Mo said solemnly but was making it up.

“It’s because you calculate everything in your head too much—always weighing losses and gains.

Over time, your vital energy is depleted, your qi flow is blocked, and this internal heat rises, settling in your neck and shoulders.

That’s why you feel soreness.”

“Is… there really such a disease?” Yan Bugui was skeptical.

“Of course!” Chen Mo said decisively.

“It’s a rare and complicated illness that ordinary doctors can’t detect. Only I can see through the root cause at a glance.”

Yan Bugui was stunned but, thinking it over, it made some sense.

He did spend every day calculating everything.

“Is it serious? Is it treatable?”

Yan Bugui asked anxiously.

“It’s both serious and not serious,” Chen Mo continued to bluff.

“If left untreated, the internal heat might affect your brain, and you won’t be able to work out your abacus calculations.

But treatment is simple.”

“How? Tell me quickly!”

“I’ll write you a prescription.”

Chen Mo said,

“The main ingredient is called ‘Heart-Soothing Herb,’ combined with several other herbs. Drink the concoction for seven days, and the illness will be cured.”

“Heart-Soothing Herb? Great, I’ll buy it at the pharmacy right away!”

Yan Bugui said eagerly.

“The pharmacy doesn’t have it,” Chen Mo shook his head.

“Then… where do I get it?”

Chen Mo spoke slowly,

“This ‘Heart-Soothing Herb’ doesn’t grow in the ground; it grows in the heart.”

“To get it, you have to do things that make your heart feel at ease and less calculating.”

Yan Bugui was utterly confused.

“Little Chen, just say it straight—what exactly do you want me to do?”

Chen Mo smiled, finally hearing the question he wanted.

“Third Uncle, since you want to use your ‘wisdom’ to pay the fee, how about this,”

Chen Mo pointed to the patch of ground before his door,

“My doorstep is dirty and messy, and it’s an eyesore. Starting today, every morning and evening, you help me clean the doorstep and take out the trash in my room.

Do this for a month, and that counts as payment for the consultation. Your illness will be considered treated.”

“What?!” Yan Bugui jumped again.

“You want me to sweep and take out trash? For a whole month?”

Wasn’t this making him a free janitor?

He, Yan Bugui, was a teacher and Third Uncle of the courtyard—how could he stoop to such servitude?

How would he save face if this got out?

“Third Uncle, I’m helping you heal,” Chen Mo said with a look of concern.

“Think about it: if you help out every day, you won’t feel like you’re taking advantage of me, and your heart will feel ‘lighter.’

Isn’t that the effect of ‘Heart-Soothing Herb’?

No money spent, and the illness cured—such a good deal, you, a cultured man, should be able to appreciate this calculation.”

Yan Bugui opened his mouth but couldn’t say a word.

Chen Mo’s twisted reasoning strangely made sense.

He had turned Yan Bugui’s stinginess into a healing prescription.

But having to serve as Chen Mo’s errand boy for a month was utterly humiliating.

“Not willing, Third Uncle?”

Chen Mo watched him.

“Then forget it. You can go to the hospital and spend a yuan. Or, if you trust me, give me ten yuan, and I’ll treat you with acupuncture and massage for faster results.”

One option cost money; the other cost pride.

Yan Bugui was torn.

Ten yuan was nearly half a month’s food budget—he could hardly afford it.

Sweeping the floor was unbearable to his pride.

Some neighbors passing by saw Yan Bugui standing at Chen Mo’s door with a begrudging expression and stopped, curious to watch.

“Third Uncle, what’s going on? What are you talking about with Chen Mo?”

Yan Bugui’s face flushed red.

Chen Mo leisurely watched without rushing him.

In the end, his stinginess triumphed over his pride.

With a clenched jaw and a stomp, Yan Bugui gritted out, “Fine! I… I’ll do it!”

Sweeping, huh? Might as well think of it as exercise—not paying ten yuan was better.

“All right,” Chen Mo nodded with satisfaction.

“Third Uncle, you can start now. The broom’s in the corner, and the trash bin is behind my door. Begin by cleaning the doorstep.”

Yan Bugui’s face turned a deep purple. Under the neighbors’ astonished gazes, he silently picked up the broom and began sweeping in front of Chen Mo’s door, stroke by stroke.

There was no greater humiliation.

Everyone in the courtyard was dumbfounded.

Chen Mo was truly a god!

First, he made Shazhu kneel, then exposed Xu Damao’s secret, and now even the courtyard’s stingiest old miser, Yan Bugui, was willingly acting as his cleaner!

This young man was determined to bring all the elders in the yard under his control, one by one.