Chapter 97: Qin Yang Has a Prescription

"Ah."
"It hurts so much."
"Doctor Qin, it hurts, I admit I'm your grandson, it hurts so much, isn't that enough?"
Qin Yang pulled out the silver needles from a man's back and said carelessly, "If you don't admit it, I'll double the pain. Wouldn't it have been better to admit it from the start? You just had to grit your teeth and pretend to be someone important. Alright, next."
"Doctor Qin, here, have a cigarette, take it easy, alright?"
"Ha, you know how to please me. Lie down."
The chefs and prison guards in the kitchen shivered every time those howls, like pigs being slaughtered, echoed from the dormitory block. These men had been through countless battles, but none could endure Qin Yang's treatment. Each one admitted defeat, calling themselves 'grandson'. Even some guards who had old injuries weren't spared Qin Yang's torment. The rule was simple: want to heal? Admit you're the grandson.

The warden of Black Prison was Wei Boyang, a true soldier. His uniform was immaculate, the star on his shoulder polished to a shine, his appearance sharp and precise. Yet he always wore a gentle smile. He understood the importance of the prisoners held in Black Prison, and he also empathized with their suffering.

Some had killed civilians by accident while rescuing hostages; others had sacrificed a few to save many. These crimes, unforgivable in most eyes, had been committed by former killing machines. If they hadn’t acted, more would have died. The anguish of being forced to make such choices weighed on their shoulders. Wei Boyang, who had led many special operations, knew their methods and their hearts. So, in Black Prison, he tried his best to meet their needs. He even paid out of his own pocket for many unapproved projects. The authorities turned a blind eye; after all, these men had lost their freedom for life.

"Xiao Ran, what happened?" Wei Boyang had just entered the kitchen when he heard cries of agony from the dormitory and was startled.

Xiao Ran, busy brewing medicinal food provided by Qin Yang to speed up recovery, looked up and said, "Dad, you don't know? The new arrival, Qin Yang, is a traditional doctor. He's treating people now."

"Why is treatment so miserable?" Wei Boyang was puzzled. He'd come specifically to see Qin Yang.

Every prisoner's crime was recorded in the archives, Qin Yang's included. What puzzled Wei Boyang was Qin Yang’s pattern: he never clashed with police until a woman with no apparent connection to him was killed. Then he retaliated, killing several officials. Wei Boyang wanted to understand more, but hadn’t expected to find this scene.

"General Wei, Doctor Qin's skills are incredible," a chef said, wiping sweat from his brow. "My shoulder's been aching for twenty years. After two needles and some medicine from Doctor Qin, it's better after just a few days. My wife has had stomach trouble for ten years, Qin Yang never even saw her, but he prescribed medicine based on my description. Two days of treatment, and her nightly pain vanished. But Doctor Qin's treatments for old injuries are painful, though effective. You know Zhao Wu’s leg? Been nearly useless for years, but after Qin Yang’s acupuncture and medicine, it’s clearly getting better."

"That impressive?" Wei Boyang said in astonishment. Seeing his daughter nod, he noticed her skin, once sallow from long hours in the kitchen, had recovered noticeably.

Wei Xiaoran said excitedly, "It's true, Qin Yang can cure anything. He gave me a prescription for beauty and skin care. Dad, you always said your spine troubled you; let Qin Yang take a look, you'll be fine."

Qin Yang had been there for five days, treating every kind of ailment, internal and external, prescribing root cures. Some chronic illnesses healed in days. Everyone was becoming blindly confident in his skills. Wei Boyang, amused by what he heard, headed to the dormitory. He found a dozen people queued up, with Zhao Wu and Dongfang Hao betting on how long each patient would last before crying out.

"General."
Many ex-soldiers stood and saluted when they saw Wei Boyang.

Wei Boyang returned the salute, noticing their bandaged injuries. "How are your wounds healing?" he asked.

"Much better," one replied excitedly. "My arm was struck by shrapnel years ago, always hurt when I used it, but after Doctor Qin treated it, the pain’s gone and strength is returning."

"Zhao Wu, how about you?" Wei Boyang asked.

Zhao Wu quickly answered, "Rest assured, General, my leg is recovering, and I can already feel sensation returning."

"Good, very good." Wei Boyang entered Qin Yang's private room. Qin Yang was pushing away a patient, cigarette dangling from his lips, another tucked behind his ear, playing with two health balls in his hands. His fingers manipulated them expertly, never dropping them. With his legs crossed, he hardly looked like a doctor.

"Next."
Qin Yang spat out the cigarette butt, hitting the trash can a meter away with precision. He placed his fingers on the patient's wrist, then rummaged in his bag for two patches. "Almost done, another two days and you'll be fine. These are new patches, stick them on the injury."

"Next."
This time, a man in uniform sat down. Qin Yang glanced up and recognized a major general. From casual conversation, he knew this was the elusive warden, Major General Wei Boyang. But whether he was a major general or not, here he was just another patient.

"Spinal misalignment, organs compressed, nerves impinged. Take off your shirt, spread your arms, lie face down on the floor." Qin Yang took out a set of silver needles and lit an alcohol lamp for sterilization.

Wei Boyang didn’t hesitate, stripped off his shirt and lay down. Qin Yang's Yin-Yang eyes allowed Yuwen Rounu to observe his injuries in detail. Following her instructions, Qin Yang inserted each needle into his back, his right hand gripping the neck, precisely at the spine. "Your injury is special. It's going to hurt a lot."

"Don't worry, if I cry out, I admit I'm the grandson," Wei Boyang laughed.

"Excellent." Qin Yang’s smiling face instantly became serious. Manipulating the spine was no joke; a mistake could cripple him for life. Qin Yang had to focus completely, following Yuwen Rounu’s guidance, step by step.

Cracks echoed from Wei Boyang’s back. He instantly clenched his jaw, eyes wide. The others stood in the doorway, dreading the thought that it could have been their own spine. Inch by inch, the terrifying sounds sent chills through everyone. Wei Boyang’s forehead bulged with veins, sweat pouring from his body, his uniform soaked, a puddle forming beneath him.

For fifteen minutes, Qin Yang’s hands worked precisely along the spine. He then swiftly inserted silver needles down the length of the spine. Just when Wei Boyang thought it was over, he gasped sharply, fists clenching so hard they cracked.

"You can really endure," Qin Yang smiled.

After the last needle was inserted, Qin Yang patted his hands. "Now, do you feel a warm current in your back?"

"Yes, very comfortable," Wei Boyang groaned, relief flooding in.

"Good, tell me when the warmth fades," Qin Yang said, pulling several herbs from his bag, crushing and heating them on patches. When Wei Boyang notified him, Qin Yang removed all the needles and applied the warm patch to his spine. "Get up, I've stimulated your body's self-healing with the needles. Come back in a day to change the patch."

Wei Boyang wiped away sweat, put his shirt back on, stretched, and said excitedly, "I haven't felt this comfortable in ages. My spine is working at full power. Miracle doctor, Qin Yang, you truly are a miracle doctor."

While Qin Yang was busy treating and tormenting his patients for fun—

Two days later.

Far away in Haitian City, several people were unhappy. They didn’t know Qin Yang’s whereabouts, and he hadn't appeared in days, as if he’d vanished.

Gao Xiaolan put down her phone, still met with the shutdown message, and said gloomily, "Where do you think Brother Qin Yang has gone?"

"Don't worry too much, he'll be fine," Qi Mengwei was anxious too, but knew worry wouldn't help. Besides, Qin Yang was skilled, unlikely to encounter danger—perhaps he had family matters to handle.

Han Dongxue sighed, her anxiety focused on her grandfather’s health. Though Old Han had called to say nothing had happened yet, she knew it was only a matter of time. Thinking of this made her bitter. She still refused to acknowledge Qin Yang, that rascal, but aside from that disgraceful accident, he had never stopped caring for her.

Only Yuwen Fei, hiding in her room, wept silently.

How could she not know about Qin Yang’s situation? He hadn’t returned for so long; the only explanations were either he was killed or arrested by the police. Qi Mengwei, ever observant, heard a noise, opened the door, and found Yuwen Fei in tears, startled. "Sister, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Sister, I, I, I know about Qin Yang." Yuwen Fei, seeing how much the others cared for Qin Yang, could no longer keep it secret. She told them everything that had happened in Fengyang County, ending with, "If Qin Yang hasn't returned now, then I'm afraid..."

The three women instantly turned pale.

Undeniably, Qin Yang had led them out of a terrible nightmare; their dependence on him was deep. Hearing of his fate, they felt lost and helpless.

Han Dongxue bit her lip, grabbed the phone, and called Old Han. Before long, his tired voice came through, "Child, what's wrong?"

"Was Qin Yang arrested?" Han Dongxue asked coldly.

Old Han was silent for a full minute, then sighed. "Yes, he’s being held in a special prison. Apart from losing his freedom, he’s well cared for there."

"Why arrest him?" Han Dongxue pressed.

"That’s for the crimes he committed," Old Han said helplessly. "If not for someone fighting for his safety, Qin Yang would have been sentenced to death."

"Can he be rescued?" Han Dongxue asked, voice trembling.

"I’m sorry, that’s General Jiang’s order. Now General Jiang is unconscious," Old Han said bitterly. "I have no way to save Qin Yang. Unless he wakes up, maybe I could persuade him to change his mind, but that’s impossible now. Child, you know General Jiang’s injuries. If we can't find the sacred formula for repairing tendons and generating blood, I'm afraid..."

They all fell silent, ending the call quietly. Han Dongxue forced a smile. "I'm sorry."

"Qin Yang, Qin Yang has the prescription," Yuwen Fei suddenly pulled up her sleeve, revealing a bandaged wrist. "My tendon was severed, Qin Yang treated it with medicine—he has the prescription."

"Huh?"

The others were stunned.

Han Dongxue immediately called again, "Grandpa, Qin Yang has the prescription!"

In a quiet estate on the outskirts of the capital, Old Han looked more aged than ever, his forehead deeply furrowed. He received Han Dongxue’s call and could only smile bitterly. He didn’t really believe Qin Yang had the prescription, thinking it was just Han Dongxue’s way to rescue him. But entering Black Prison was not something one could escape so easily. He sighed, tossing a medical book onto the table.

Just then, Jiang Nanyan walked in and saw Old Han. "Still no progress?" she asked sadly.

"I’ve managed to get him seven days. If there’s no cure within seven days, I’m afraid..." Old Han said bitterly.

"Thank you," Jiang Nanyan bowed.

"Thank me?" Old Han smiled bitterly. "I can't even heal a patient, what's there to thank?"

Suddenly, loud voices came from outside. Jiang Nanyan was furious, about to see who dared make such noise at this time, when Wei Boyang rushed in, not giving them a chance to speak. He said urgently, "There's hope! Qin Yang, the one imprisoned in Black Prison, is a miracle doctor. He cured every illness there, even Zhao Wu’s leg injury, which had reached the bone. He has the prescription!"