Chapter 9: Chen Mo’s Medical Skills Gain Renown, Director Yang Personally Visits

The deaf old lady bowed her head submissively to Chen Mo. The shock this caused in the courtyard was greater than any before.

Previously, when Chen Mo dealt with Shazhu, Xu Damou, and Yan Bugui, people only thought he was formidable and not someone to be trifled with.

But this time, he not only saved the deaf lady’s life but also pinpointed her longstanding ailment with a single remark.

In the end, even the “Old Empress” of the courtyard voluntarily asked him to treat her, firmly establishing his reputation as a “miracle doctor.”

Now, the way people in the courtyard looked at Chen Mo had completely changed.

It was a complex mix of awe, curiosity, and even a hint of flattery.

No one dared to speak ill of him behind his back anymore; even passing by, they would nod respectfully and address him as “Doctor Chen.”

Chen Mo accepted this quietly.

This was exactly the effect he wanted. In this courtyard where seniority and social ties mattered, only by establishing absolute authority could he live peacefully.

That afternoon, Yi Zhonghai personally escorted the deaf old lady to Chen Mo’s home.

“Xiao Chen, I’m entrusting you with the old lady’s illness,” Yi Zhonghai said humbly, even with a hint of pleading.

He was genuinely afraid now. The old lady was his backbone and the most crucial part of his retirement plan—there could be no mistakes. And Chen Mo was the only one who could save her.

Chen Mo nodded and had the old lady take a seat.

“As for the consultation fee…” Yi Zhonghai probed cautiously.

He knew Chen Mo’s rule: ten yuan as the starting price.

Given the old lady’s chronic ailment, it would surely cost a fortune. He was prepared for a heavy expense.

“Since the old lady is an elder and I saved her life, I’ll waive the fee this time,” Chen Mo said calmly.

Yi Zhonghai and the old lady were stunned.

They hadn’t expected Chen Mo, who was known for valuing money over people, to offer his services for free.

Of course, Chen Mo was not being charitable.

He understood well that different people required different approaches.

For someone like Jia Zhangshi, a tough nut to crack, he used money to hit hard and make her feel the pain.

For a miser like Yan Bugui, he made him put in effort, which was even more unbearable than spending money.

But for influential figures like the deaf old lady and Yi Zhonghai, charging money would be the worst tactic.

What he wanted was not money but “favor.”

A debt of gratitude to a miracle doctor was worth far more than dozens of yuan.

He intended to make the old lady and Yi Zhonghai owe him, so in this courtyard, when he spoke, they would have to listen. This was the long-term game.

“This… this is too much to accept,” the old lady said awkwardly.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Chen Mo replied.

He took out his silver needles and sterilized them over an alcohol lamp.

“Old lady, just remember, in this courtyard, fairness and justice should be the standard. Don’t always take sides—it’s not good for your heart and lungs.”

His words were pointed and clear.

Both the old lady and Yi Zhonghai were sharp; they immediately understood the warning. They exchanged looks and saw bitterness in each other’s eyes.

This was a reprimand.

“All right… all right, child, I’ll remember,” the old lady sighed in resignation.

Chen Mo said no more and began his focused treatment.

His fingers danced quickly, each silver needle precisely inserted into the old lady’s back at acupoints related to the lungs and heart. His technique was skillful and his pressure exact, leaving Yi Zhonghai dizzy from watching.

After the treatment, the old lady felt a warm current flowing between her chest and lungs.

The previously stifled feeling in her chest was instantly relieved, and her breathing became easier.

“Miraculous… truly miraculous,” she murmured, feeling the change.

Having lived so long and seen many doctors of traditional Chinese medicine, none had such an immediate effect as Chen Mo.

“This is just the first adjustment. With weekly treatments for three months, your old ailment will be completely cured,” Chen Mo said calmly as he put away his needles.

Yi Zhonghai thanked him profusely and helped the old lady back home.

From then on, Chen Mo’s position in the courtyard was firmly established.

His fame began to spread like the wind beyond this small courtyard.

The first place it reached was the steel rolling mill they belonged to.

Shazhu was the canteen chef, Xu Damou the projectionist, Yan Bugui a teacher at the workers’ children’s school, and Liu Haizhong a level-seven forge worker in the workshop. People from the mill made up nearly half the courtyard’s residents.

Naturally, the commotion Chen Mo caused in the courtyard was reported in detail by them, becoming a popular topic among the workers.

“Have you heard? That courtyard in Nanluogu Alley has a miracle doctor!”

“The one with Shazhu and the others? Named Chen Mo? I heard he’s just in his twenties?”

“Exactly! His acupuncture skills are amazing. He made Shazhu kneel after one needle, immediately diagnosed Xu Damou’s problem, and saved the deaf old lady from choking!”

“Is that for real?”

“Shazhu and Xu Damou said so themselves. The elders in the courtyard act like scared cats when they see him!”

Word of mouth spread rapidly.

Chen Mo’s story became legendary in the steel mill. Some said he was taught by immortals; others claimed he was descended from a secret imperial physician.

These rumors naturally reached the ears of the mill’s management.

In the director’s office of the Red Star Steel Rolling Mill, a man in his fifties with a refined appearance and gold-rimmed glasses frowned as he listened to his secretary’s report.

This was Yang Weiguo, the mill director.

Yang had been troubled lately because of his beloved son, Yang Kai.

Yang Kai, twenty-five, had suffered a leg injury during an internship two years ago.

Though his life was saved, the leg was damaged.

On rainy days, it pained him deeply, and he walked with a limp. He had seen many hospitals, both Western and traditional, but nothing helped.

This was a heavy burden on Yang’s mind.

“Director, the workers are saying that young Chen Mo in Shazhu’s courtyard has excellent medical skills. Maybe… we could invite him to examine Xiao Kai?” the secretary suggested cautiously.

Yang’s frown deepened.

A staunch materialist, he didn’t believe in folk tales about miracle doctors. Stories of a single needle making someone kneel or instantly diagnosing ailments sounded like scams to him.

Yet, his son’s leg was his greatest worry, and he was willing to try anything hopeful.

“What’s Chen Mo’s background? Has it been verified?” Yang asked sternly.

“Yes,” the secretary replied quickly. “He’s an ordinary orphan. His parents were workers at our mill but died in the line of duty. He himself was once sickly and unemployed. Recently, for some unknown reason, he suddenly recovered and learned this medical skill.”

The more Yang heard, the more uneasy he felt. A twenty-year-old self-taught doctor? It sounded implausible.

As he hesitated, the office door was knocked.

“Come in.”

A man in his forties with slicked hair and a sharp, shrewd look walked in.

It was Li, the mill’s deputy director.

“Old Yang, busy?” Li greeted with a smile, but his eyes scanned Yang’s face.

“You look worried, still fretting over Xiao Kai’s leg?”

Yang nodded and sighed, “Old Li, you know as well as I do—two years and no improvement.”

“I’ve heard something that might help,” Li said mysteriously.

“What is it?”

“About that Chen Mo you mentioned.”

Li sat down and poured himself a glass of water.

“I didn’t just hear about him; I asked around. I talked to Shazhu and Xu Damou. That kid’s quite something, apparently.”

“Oh?” Yang’s interest was piqued. “Even you say that?”

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Li said, lowering his voice.

“But think about it—Shazhu is the troublemaker of the courtyard. For him to submit and kneel? That’s no ordinary person. And the deaf old lady, half dead, was pulled back by him. Dozens saw it happen—no way it’s fake.”

Yang fell silent. Although he and Li often clashed, Li wouldn’t lie about this.

“Old Yang, whatever his background, whether true or not, inviting him to see Xiao Kai can’t hurt, right?” Li coaxed.

“If it helps, that’s your son’s blessing. If not, at least it’ll ease your mind and prevent regret. Isn’t that so?”

Finally, Yang was persuaded.

“Fine!” he slammed the table, resolved.

“Xiao Wang, prepare the car now. I’m going to that courtyard myself! I want to see this Chen Mo with my own eyes!”

He decided to go personally.

First, to show sincerity; second, to see for himself what kind of person this supposedly miraculous young man was.

If Chen Mo was truly capable, he would treat him with respect. If a fraud, Yang Weiguo was no fool to be taken in!

Soon, a Soviet-made Volga sedan—a rare sight at the time—drove out of the steel mill, heading toward Nanluogu Alley.

The car’s appearance caused quite a stir along the way.

When the black luxury vehicle slowly turned into the courtyard’s alley and stopped at the gate, the entire courtyard erupted.

“Look! A fancy car!”

“Who’s here with such pomp?”

Yan Bugui, sweeping the yard, dropped his broom in shock.

It was the first time in his life he had seen such a car up close.

As the door opened, Director Yang and his secretary stepped out.

Yang, dressed in a crisp official uniform, radiated authority.

“Excuse me, is this the home of Chen Mo, Doctor Chen?” the secretary politely asked Yan Bugui.

Yan Bugui was dumbfounded, stammering as he pointed toward the middle courtyard, “Ch-Chen Mo… lives… in that room.”

Coming in a fancy car to see Chen Mo? And calling him “Doctor Chen”?

My heavens! What kind of powerful connections has Chen Mo made?!

In Yan Bugui’s heart, a roaring storm surged.