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

The family that came to visit that day was the Yan family from the city.

Old Master Yan was one of the most respected figures in the city. In his early years, he had passed the imperial examinations and served as a local official for several terms. After retiring and returning to his hometown, he funded the establishment of an academy, where most of the prominent young men in the city had studied. So, the illness of such a venerable old man naturally caused quite a stir.

The one who came to fetch him was the second young master of the Yan family, his face filled with anxiety: "Doctor Yang, please take a look at my father. My father... he woke up half a month ago and suddenly couldn't hear. Both his ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton; even if someone shouts at the top of their lungs in his ears, he can only hear a buzzing sound. We've seen all the doctors in the city; some say it's because he's old and his blood and energy are failing, and there's nothing they can do; others say his ear canals are blocked and can't be cured. My father has been so anxious these days that he can't even eat."

Yang Hu picked up his medicine box and left.

Old Master Yan sat in the hall, his hair and beard all white, his demeanor dignified, but his eyes were filled with barely concealed anxiety and bewilderment. A man who had spent his entire life learning by listening to others and imparting knowledge orally had suddenly fallen into a deathly silence; the torment he felt was more agonizing than any ordinary illness.

Several doctors surrounded the bed, each with a troubled expression, seemingly at a loss. Seeing Yang Hu's youth, they looked at him with disdain. An elderly doctor with a white beard stroked his beard and said slowly, "Old Master Yan is getting old; his kidney energy is depleted, and his essence and blood cannot nourish his ears. This is a deficiency syndrome. We must slowly and gently tonify him, restoring as much as we can. We can't force it. What does a young man in his early twenties know?"

Yang Hu didn't respond to him, but instead stepped forward to carefully examine the patient.

Yang Hu stepped forward and bowed. He first took the pulse, then asked the second young master in detail: "Old Master, did you suddenly become deaf, or did it gradually worsen? Before you became deaf, did you experience dizziness, tinnitus, or a flushed face? In the past two weeks, has the old master been unusually irritable and easily angered?"

The second young master answered them one by one. It turned out that the old master had been very angry about a troublesome matter at the academy recently, and had not slept well for several days. When he woke up, he suddenly lost his hearing.

Yang Hu then understood the situation.

He examined the old man's tongue again; it was a deep, crimson red. He felt his pulse, which was wiry, rapid, and forceful. This was hardly a case of kidney deficiency; it was clearly a case of excessive liver fire and stagnation of qi and blood. Those doctors had mistaken an excess for a deficiency, prescribing only warming and tonifying formulas—which, in turn, only fueled the stagnant fire. No wonder the old man's ears, instead of improving after half a month, had become increasingly muffled.

This isn't the gradual, silent deafness that comes with age. The old man's deafness came suddenly and was real—it was caused by a surge of liver fire, carrying internal wind, that rushed up to his head and blocked his clear hearing. The fire blocked the orifices, causing blood and qi to stagnate near the ears, preventing hearing. Clearing this rising fire and opening the blocked ear orifices will restore his hearing.

"Old Master Yan's illness can be cured." Yang Hu picked up his pen and wrote down the medical record, saying word by word, "It's not that his ears are dead, but that they are blocked by a kind of internal heat. Once the heat is cleared and the orifices are opened, he will be able to hear again."

The second young master was both surprised and delighted: "Really? So many doctors in the city said there's nothing they can do..."

"They're treating deafness as if it were feigned deafness, so there's nothing they can do," Yang Hu said calmly. "Treat an ear that's blocked by fire with supplements; it's like adding fuel to the fire, making it even more blocked."

He immediately prescribed some medicine to clear the liver, reduce internal heat, and open the orifices. He also took silver needles and applied them to several acupoints around the old man's ears to gradually clear the blocked Qi and fire in his ear orifices.

The old doctor with a white beard watched from the side and sneered, "A perfectly good case of deficiency syndrome, and you're using these bitter and cold medicines to purge the fire, and then doing this acupuncture and fire-inducing treatment, are you trying to completely deplete the old man's already weakened vital energy?"

"He's not lacking vital energy, he's just experiencing a blockage of internal heat." Yang Hu's hands moved steadily as he applied the acupuncture, without even raising his head. "You perceive this blockage as a deficiency, and the more you try to replenish it, the more blocked it becomes. I'll clear the blockage, the heat will recede, and the orifices will open, and he'll naturally be able to hear. Whether it's a deficiency or a blockage, in three to five days, the old man's ears will speak for themselves."

The old doctor was so choked up that his face turned pale and he couldn't say anything.

Young Master Yan stood by, watching his father being pricked with needles all over his body and drinking bowl after bowl of bitter medicine. He was filled with anxiety, but he had no other choice but to grit his teeth and trust the young doctor.

The first time acupuncture and medicine were administered, the ear that had been plugged for half a month felt a little loose that very night, and a clear sound even penetrated the muffled buzzing. The next morning, the old master opened his eyes and for the first time faintly heard the chirping of birds outside the window. He excitedly grabbed the second young master's hand and asked repeatedly, "Did you hear that? Did you hear that?"

After seven or eight days of this treatment, Old Master Yan's hearing improved day by day. At first, he could hear voices nearby, and later he could even distinguish sounds from behind a courtyard wall. His ear canals, which had been blocked for half a month, gradually reopened.

The old man, who had never been able to live without listening or speaking, was so moved to hear the sounds of the world again that tears streamed down his face. He held Yang Hu's hand, speechless for a long time.

"It was Doctor Yang who saved my hearing," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "For a scholar, to be deaf and unable to speak clearly is no different from being dead. Doctor Yang's skill saved not only my hearing, but also the rest of my life."

All the famous doctors in the city had declared that the sudden deafness was incurable, but this young man in his early twenties miraculously cured him.

After Old Master Yan recovered, he told everyone he met that the young miracle doctor in the east of the city truly had the ability to bring the dead back to life and save countless lives. He even specially prepared a plaque with his own handwriting and ordered people to deliver it to Yang's shop with gongs and drums. The plaque read "Benevolent Heart and Skillful Hands," which attracted a crowd of onlookers all over the street.

His words and the plaque he erected carried more weight than a thousand words from ordinary people. In an instant, the reputation of Yang's Medical Clinic in the east of the city spread throughout every corner of the city, from the highest to the lowest ranks, through the words of this highly respected old man. Everyone who mentioned the young miracle doctor in the east of the city gave him a thumbs up and praised him as a "living bodhisattva."

At this point, the reputation of the "Divine Doctor of the East City" was truly and unequivocally established at the pinnacle of the city.

Those doctors who had declared the condition "incurable" were too ashamed to set foot in the Yan family's house again. Those people in the city who had previously been gossiping behind the scenes, "How could a mere boy have such abilities?" all shut their mouths this time.

Nighttime, in the backyard. Lu Yan poured Yang Hu a cup of hot tea, her eyebrows curving into a smile: "Old Master Yan's words are worth half a year's hard work for us."

"That makes sense." Yang Hu held his hot tea, but his expression was more somber than usual. "The bigger the reputation, the more conspicuous the signboard. From now on, this courtyard will probably be even more lively. What lies hidden in this liveliness, we'll have to see it one by one."

Qin Ying, tidying up the worn-out dagger by the lamplight, glanced at him upon hearing this, but said nothing. A subtle, almost imperceptible, seriousness flickered in her lowered eyes. She knew better than anyone that behind all the city's attention, the hand lurking in the shadows had never truly left. The greater the public's acclaim, the more wary that hand became, the more closely it kept its eyes on them.