"What exactly is materialism? What's idealism?"
Jiang Chen's sudden question caught Chen Weiwei completely off guard. Her brain stalled. For a moment, she genuinely couldn't tell if he was joking or being profound.
Wasn't that from the textbook? Material determines consciousness, and consciousness reacts back on material... or something equally dry.
Before she could answer, her expression suddenly twisted.
A wave of pressure crushed down on her chest, and a sharp headache flared behind her eyes. Sweat began to bead on her forehead—thick and fast.
"Teacher Chen?" Jiang Chen's gaze sharpened. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and caught her just as her legs buckled.
Carefully, he lowered her into the nearby chair and took her wrist.
His fingers pressed against her pulse, and within seconds, his brows furrowed.
Chaotic meridians. Disrupted Qi flow. Internal heat surging…
Without wasting another second, he retrieved a silver needle case from his school bag and flicked it open.
The cold gleam of the needles startled Chen Weiwei out of her haze.
"H-Hey! Jiang Chen! What are you doing with those?!"
"Stay still," he said calmly, already sterilizing a needle with alcohol. "You've got an old internal imbalance flaring up. I need to suppress it before it worsens."
"Suppress what?! Are you going to poke me with those things?!"
Jiang Chen didn't bother explaining further. With practiced precision, he inserted a needle into the Hegu acupoint on her left hand.
"Ow—!" she yelped. "That stings!"
"Means it's working," he said flatly, moving on to the next point.
After a moment, the tightness in her chest faded. Her breath smoothed out. The pounding in her head eased into a dull throb, then disappeared altogether.
"I… I actually feel better…" she whispered, surprised.
She looked at him with wide eyes. "I've been to big hospitals in three provinces. None of them could figure out what was wrong with me. How did you—a high schooler—spot it in a glance?"
Jiang Chen wiped his hands with a tissue, then casually said, "My ancestors were physicians. I picked up a few things over the years."
Chen Weiwei blinked. "Wait. Physicians?"
He nodded.
"Imperial Physicians," he added meaningfully. "The kind who served in palaces, not the ones treating cows and pigs."
Chen Weiwei's mouth twitched. "...That's not what you said at first, was it?"
Jiang Chen smiled but said nothing.
"So, can this… whatever condition I have… be cured completely?"
Jiang Chen considered it for a moment, then nodded. "You'll need at least three full treatment sessions—maybe up to seven. After that, it shouldn't recur."
Her eyes lit up. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," he replied. "But until then, no spicy food. Avoid cold drinks. And for heaven's sake, stop staying up past midnight reading WeChat articles."
Seeing his calm demeanor, and the confident way he handled everything, her earlier skepticism began to fade. A strange warmth stirred in her chest.
Unbeknownst to both of them…
Outside the office door, Lin Yuechan had just walked by.
She had come to call Chen Weiwei for a class-related matter. But the moment she saw Jiang Chen holding Weiwei's wrist, leaning in close while she looked utterly spellbound…
Boom!
A firecracker of jealousy exploded inside her.
From her angle, it looked far more intimate than it really was. Her brain completely skipped the part where Weiwei looked unwell.
Her face turned red, then dark, then almost purple.
"Jiang! Chen!" she bellowed, her voice thundering like a lioness from Hedong.
The door slammed open.
Jiang Chen turned around, completely confused.
And thus began the next disaster.