A divine healer, a general, a young marquis! Who can rival them!

Sure enough, the visitor returned three days later, still with the same humble yet assertive demeanor, saying only that the sedan chair was waiting outside the door and asking Doctor Yang to come closer.

Before going, Yang Hu had made arrangements. Liu Ye had gone to the mansion the day before and returned to report that it was a very secluded mansion in the south of the city, with heavily guarded gates. The servants coming and going were all unfamiliar faces, their backgrounds unclear, but there were no signs of violence or danger. Qin Ying, tidying his medicine chest in the main room, said in a deep voice, "The one leading the way is a retired soldier, no doubt about it. But what kind of important person is a retired soldier protecting? We still can't tell. You need to be extremely careful on this trip."

"A patient is a patient." Yang Hu slung his medicine box over his shoulder, his expression calm. "Since he is truly ill, I will treat him. I'll take a look at the situation in this house to get a better understanding of its depths."

He paused, then went over the arrangements at home again: the box of irrefutable evidence had already been sent to Zhou Ji's safe haven outside the city, and not a single word could be found in the courtyard; Qin Ying was to disguise himself as a medicine boy and accompany him, and must not show his face; Liu Ye was to stay at home to look after him, and if he hadn't returned by nightfall, they would search for him according to the previously agreed-upon method. Having prepared all the possible escape routes, he finally stepped out the door.

He wasn't sure if this trip would bring him good fortune or misfortune. But the more heavily guarded and secluded the entrance, the more likely it was to conceal the city's shady dealings. He never detoured when it came to exploring certain areas.

Qin Ying pretended to carry the medicine bag, lowered her eyes and hunched her shoulders, and followed behind him, getting into the sedan chair one after the other.

The house was even quieter than Liu Ye had described. Passing through several corridors, they arrived at an elegantly furnished inner room. Lying on the bed was an elderly man with white hair and beard, gaunt and emaciated, yet his eyes still held a certain brilliance. Several doctors stood beside the bed, each with a troubled expression.

"Dr. Yang." The middle-aged man who led the way bowed and said, "My master's illness has been seen by all the doctors in the city. They all said it was a terminal illness of vomiting and esophageal obstruction, and told us to prepare for the worst. My master was unwilling to accept this, so he invited you to come."

Yang Hu stepped forward and inquired about the patient's condition in detail.

It turned out that the old man initially only felt that he had difficulty swallowing food, and he couldn't swallow dry or hard food; later, even soft food became difficult, and he often had to spit out the food as soon as it entered his mouth; after half a year, he could hardly eat or drink anything, and he withered away day by day.

"This is indeed esophageal obstruction," Yang Hu said gently as he took the old man's pulse. The old doctor by the bed scoffed, "Since you know it's an incurable disease like esophageal obstruction, why are you trying to show off, young man?"

Yang Hu ignored him, finished taking the pulse, examined the old man's tongue, and asked if he had any worries or troubles over the past two years. The old man paused, something flickered in his cloudy eyes, and slowly nodded.

Yang Hu then understood the situation.

He then extended two fingers and gently pressed on the old man's Tian Tu and Tan Zhong acupoints, asking if he often felt a lump of something stuck there, something he couldn't swallow or vomit. The old man closed his eyes and slowly nodded. He then asked if the ailment worsened when he was upset and lessened when he felt more at ease, and the old man nodded again.

As he asked each question, Yang Hu became more and more certain of his judgment.

The condition of esophageal obstruction can be either due to deficiency or excess. If it has been prolonged and the blood and body fluids are depleted, making the esophagus so dry that even a thin stream of water cannot pass through, then it is a truly incurable disease, beyond the help of even a miracle cure. But this old man before me has a wiry and slippery pulse, and his tongue is covered with phlegm, clearly indicating that he has qi stagnation in his chest and phlegm congealed in his diaphragm—it is the unresolved matter in his heart that has blocked his breath between his chest and diaphragm, causing the phlegm and qi to obstruct each other, thus blocking his esophagus. This is not a terminal illness that leads to death, but a living condition caused by obstruction. By clearing the obstructed qi, dispersing the congealed phlegm, and easing the tension in his heart that has been building up for years, his esophagus will be able to clear.

"The old man's illness can be cured." Yang Hu straightened up and said, word by word, "It's not blood deficiency, it's qi stagnation. You all mistook qi stagnation for blood deficiency, and a living disease for a dead one, no wonder you were helpless."

The doctors' faces turned pale and then flushed.

Yang Hu immediately prescribed some medicine to soothe the chest, regulate qi, resolve phlegm, and relieve depression. He also took silver needles and applied them to several acupoints on the old man's chest and wrists to guide the blocked qi down little by little. Before leaving, he added a word of advice: "Old man, if you can let go of that matter in your heart, then let it go. The medicine can clear the esophagus, but you have to resolve this knot in your heart yourself."

The middle-aged man followed the instructions with some skepticism.

The first time he took the medicine and received acupuncture, the old man actually felt a little relieved in his chest. His esophagus, which had been blocked for half a year and made it difficult to swallow anything, seemed to loosen a little. That night, for the first time ever, he swallowed half a bowl of rice soup and did not vomit it up.

The middle-aged man stood by the bedside, watching his master swallow something for the first time, and he was so excited that he kept wiping his eyes.

After half a month of this treatment, the choking that had made it difficult to eat or drink, and the vomiting after every meal, gradually lessened day by day. First, he could eat rice water, then thin porridge, and later, he could eat some soft food. His withered face also regained its color day by day.

The man, whom all the city's renowned doctors had pronounced dead, was miraculously saved by this young man in his early twenties.

Those doctors who had diagnosed him with a "terminal illness" were too ashamed to visit again. The old doctor who had previously scoffed at the "young man showing off" was even more embarrassed, his face ashen, and he dared not utter another word.

The entire household, initially skeptical, was now completely convinced and grateful. The middle-aged man's attitude towards Yang Hu also changed from polite and distant to one of genuine respect.

The middle-aged man presented a generous gift of thanks, with silk and silver piled on the table. As usual, Yang Hu only took the consultation fee he was entitled to, politely declining the rest. What this courtyard lacked these days was never just a little money.

After recovering, the old man made a special trip to see Yang Hu. He held Yang Hu's hand, his cloudy eyes filled with gratitude. After a long silence, he said softly, "My life was given to me by Doctor Yang. To my shame, my illness is seven parts physical and three parts mental—it stems from an old matter I couldn't let go of years ago. Over time, it has weighed heavily on my heart. If Doctor Yang hadn't pointed it out, I fear I would have died with this pent-up resentment in my heart."

He sighed, gazing at the first rays of spring light outside the window, his voice low and somber: "In my younger days... I spent some years on the frontier, witnessing countless deaths and comings. I thought this was my end, but I never imagined I'd get to see this springtime scene again."

Upon hearing the words "border," Yang Hu's heart stirred slightly, but he remained outwardly calm, offering only a few words of gentle comfort.

Yang Hu kept his suspicions to himself. A man who had served on the frontier, now lived a secluded life, yet could afford to hire veteran soldiers as bodyguards, was no ordinary wealthy gentry. What could be the "old story" that had been weighing on his mind for years behind his illness?

On the way back, Qin Ying lowered her voice in the sedan chair and said, "Those whom the veteran soldiers are willing to protect must either have received favors in the past or be of high status. There are more people hiding in this city than we think. This good deed has come at the right time."

Yang Hu gazed at the bustling streets outside the window, his eyes darkening. Beneath the surface of this city lay countless shady dealings and figures, many with backgrounds and connections, whose true nature he had yet to uncover. Yet, with each act of kindness he cultivated, the path leading deeper into the city was slowly unfolding beneath his feet.

There's plenty of time. He'll see how deep the waters run in this city one day.