Chapter 2: Three Breaths to Hear the Crisis

The door hinge gave a faint, groaning squeak, a sound that cut through the deathly silence of the bedroom with brutal clarity. It sounded like a nail being dragged across rusted tin. A mixture of stale blood and bitter almond hung in the air. The flickering candlelight stretched long, warped shadows across the room, projecting every person’s anxiety onto the peeling walls.

Su Wan’s back froze for a fraction of a second. Her finger flicked the hand that had been gripping her wrist—fast, cold, and sharp. She didn’t turn around. The touch of his skin was as cold as ice.

Lu Jingchuan stood in the doorway, wearing a dark, impeccably tailored long gown. He wore a mask of just the right amount of grief and concern, though it couldn’t hide the cold, triumphant glint in his eyes. He slowly smoothed down his cuff, his gaze sweeping over the tense crowd in the room like a landlord inspecting his property.

“Third Brother is awake?”

He stepped closer, his leather shoes making dull thuds against the wooden floor. His eyes passed over Lu Shiyuan’s half-lidded stare and landed directly on the rigid profile of Su Wan. The corner of his mouth twitched into a mocking smirk, his voice dripping with amusement.

“He just woke up so suddenly, and he’s out of his mind, I’m afraid. It must be the toxin striking his heart and clouding his judgment.”

He raised a hand, signaling the servants to back off. He lowered his voice, but every word was sharp enough to pierce through the ears of everyone present, triggering a wave of hushed, frantic whispers.

“At a time like this, loose talk only disrupts the order. Since the young lady of the Su family has such ‘remarkable medical skills’ that she can bring the dead back to life, then let her take full responsibility. But if something goes wrong, can the Lu family’s century-old legacy just be thrown around by some country hick from the village?”

Lu Shiyuan didn’t speak. But in those eyes, which should have been hazy and unfocused, there was a chilling clarity and a deep, freezing chill.

He slowly released his grip on Su Wan’s wrist, letting the icy pressure dissipate. His gaze remained locked on her back, which hadn’t turned. A faint, ragged breath rolled through his throat. The sound was so slight it was like the last struggle of a dying animal.

Su Wan never turned around.

She could hear Lu Shiyuan’s heart rate accelerating, thumping like a drum against his ribs. She could hear the heavy wooden door pushing open outside with a soft scrape. And she could hear her own blood rushing backward in her veins, the tinnitus screaming in her ears like the sharp buzzing of cicadas, threatening to shatter her eardrums.

Three breaths.

Just enough for her to see the true faces of everyone in this room.

At that moment, urgent but controlled footsteps echoed from outside. The person walked steadily, bringing with them a faint scent of disinfectant and cold mint, cutting through the stale, murky air of the room.

“Move aside.”

A cold voice rang out. Bai Jingxing appeared in a white coat that looked glaringly out of place under the dim candlelight, like a bright, inappropriate color in a dark painting. He held a stethoscope in his hand, the cold metal light reflecting off his fingertips. A deep frown creased his forehead, and his gaze, sharp as a blade, landed first on the empty patch of floor where the crowd had parted.

“Grandpa Lu, I’m here.”

He didn’t look at Lu Jingchuan. He walked straight to the bedside, smoothly pulled back the curtain, and began checking Lu Shiyuan’s pupils and breathing rate. As his fingertips brushed the skin, the air in the room seemed to freeze for a second.

Bai Jingxing’s brow furrowed tighter. He placed his fingers on Lu Shiyuan’s wrist to check the pulse. After a moment, he straightened up, his expression turning complex and heavy, as if he had seen something that defied all logic.

“The toxin has entered the heart meridian. Stagnant blood is blocking the channels, and the poison is spreading extremely fast.”

He pulled his hand back and wiped it on a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket, cleaning away a stain that wasn’t there. His voice was cold and hard, devoid of any warmth, sounding like a judge reading a death sentence.

“Based on standard pathological inference, the heart will stop beating within half an hour. Inserting acupuncture needles now is no different than sticking another knife into a dying man’s body.”

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over Su Wan, who stood in the corner. There was no hiding the disdain and warning in his eyes. The corner of his mouth curled down.

“Miss, I advise you to withdraw immediately. Otherwise, if the patient suffers irreversible death, you will be held responsible for this ‘murder.’”

The room fell into instant, deadly silence, save for the occasional crackle of the candle wick.

Hearing this, Lu Jingchuan’s expression shifted slightly. He quickly put on a look of absolute devastation, rushing forward to block the bedside. He opened his hands toward Su Wan, posing in a remarkably generous manner.

“Third Brother is on his deathbed. Even Director Bai has given him a reprieve from death, and you still want to interfere?”

“Before I have you dragged out, I suggest you leave. The Lu family’s rules do not allow outsiders to meddle with life and death in a sickroom.”

Su Wan finally turned around.

There was no panic on her face, nor any anger. Her clear, bright eyes held only a bottomless stillness, as if the storms raging around her had nothing to do with her.

“Director Bai, diagnosing life and death from behind a screen is quite convenient for you.”

She took a step forward, the swish of her skirt distinct in the silence, carrying an air of all-or-nothing determination.

“Too bad. You only heard the death signal in the heart meridian, but you missed the cries for help from the lung orifices.”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

Lu Jingchuan barked, reaching out to stop her. His mask was on the verge of shattering.

But Bai Jingxing let out a cold laugh, blocking Su Wan’s path. He crossed his arms, looking down at her with the arrogance of a top-tier elite.

“A country bumpkin who hasn’t even finished reading the medical texts—do you have the right to discuss lung orifices?”

“If you truly understood traditional medicine, you’d be on your knees begging for mercy right now, not just showing off with your mouth.”

“If I act, I am dishonoring my teachers and ancestors, and treating human lives as grass. If you lose, you will crawl out of the Lu family, and you will never set foot in this city again.”

Su Wan didn’t look at Bai Jingxing. Her gaze went over his shoulder, landing on the face that was pale and nearly translucent.

Three breaths.

All she needed was three breaths.

Her fingertips touched the Cun, Guan, and Chi points on Lu Shiyuan’s wrist. The slight coolness from his skin passed through, instantly piercing her consciousness.

In her mind, a blast echoed.

It wasn’t a normal pulse beat. It was a dull, viscous Echo—a resonant hum of thick phlegm clogging the throat and airways, the desperate, screaming cry of lung qi being blocked solid.

This wasn’t a problem of heart meridian toxins.

This was phlegm clogging the lung orifices, with the body’s qi mechanism in reverse chaos.

If she didn’t forcefully clear the phlegm, in half an hour, Lu Shiyuan wouldn’t die from the poison. He would die from suffocation.

“Step aside.”

Su Wan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable resolve, like a command from another dimension.

Bai Jingxing frowned. He was about to make another snide comment, but Su Wan had already slipped through the crowd. The silver needle flashed with a cold gleam in the candlelight, piercing the eyes of everyone present.

“Stop!”

Lu Jingchuan’s voice cracked with shock and anger, completely losing his usual refinement.

“Dare! This is a young master of the Lu family, not a straw dummy for your practice!”

Su Wan ignored him. Her gaze was steady like a torch, locking onto a specific acupoint on Lu Shiyuan’s neck. Her fingers were steady, without a single tremor.

She guided the needle, applying force.

The silver needle pierced the skin, passing through the acupoint and entering.

Lu Shiyuan’s whole body shuddered violently. A terrifying, creaking sound, like a broken windbox, came from his throat. It was followed by a heart-wrenching fit of coughing, his chest heaving dramatically.

“Cough—cough—”

A mouthful of thick, black-green phlegm, accompanied by a stinking stench, was suddenly spewed out. It splattered onto the white sheets, a shocking sight that made everyone nearby turn away.

His purple-black complexion, miraculously, flushed with a hint of red in that moment. It was like a splash of blood on a gray canvas.

His breathing gradually steadied.

Bai Jingxing froze in place. The stethoscope in his hand nearly slipped to the floor. The light clink of metal hitting the ground sounded jarringly loud in the silence.

He rushed forward, his hands trembling as he reached for Lu Shiyuan’s pulse again. When his fingertips touched that strong, powerful beat, the arrogance in his eyes instantly collapsed, replaced by an unbelievable shock. His pupils widened.

“This... this is impossible...”

He muttered, fine cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. The back of his white coat was already soaked through.

Dead revived?

According to Western medical theory, it was absolutely impossible.

Just then, Su Wan’s body swayed sharply. The deafening tinnitus in her ears receded like a ebbing tide, replaced by a deathly, silent deafness. It was as if the world had had its volume turned off; all sound was gone.

Her vision went black, her form swaying dangerously.

She staggered, nearly falling to her knees. Her knees knocked against the floor, but she couldn’t feel the pain.

“Miss Su?”

Bai Jingxing instinctively reached out to steady her, but he didn’t let go immediately. His palm was broad and warm, a sharp contrast to Su Wan’s cold fingertips.

His gaze was deep and complex. In that silent deafness, he leaned close to her ear, lowering his voice to probe, his breath brushing against her ear.

“Where exactly did you learn your medical skills?”

“I may not understand the rules of this world.”

“But that ‘unheard of’ aura on you... it makes me very curious.”

Before Bai Jingxing finished speaking, the door outside suddenly burst with the rapid, heavy sound of a cane tapping against the floor.

*Thock. Thock. Thock.*

Each step felt like it was hammering on the hearts of everyone present. The rhythm was slow but oppressive, making the heart constrict.

The door was shoved open. A gust of biting cold wind swept in, extinguishing the flickering candles in the room. Darkness instantly swallowed the space, leaving only the bleak, frosty moonlight streaming in from outside.

Grandma Lu, leaning on a dragon-head cane, walked in slowly.

She was dressed in a jet-black brocade qipao. Her silver hair was combed with meticulous precision. Her presence was so powerful it was suffocating, like a queen inspecting her domain.

She didn’t look at her unconscious grandson. She didn’t look at the panicked Lu Jingchuan. Those eyes, weathered by time but still sharp as a blade, locked directly onto Su Wan’s face, which looked a bit lost due to her sudden deafness.

The entire room held its breath.

Grandma Lu spoke. Her voice was old but full of strength, echoing in the spacious room. She asked only one question.

“Who saved my grandson?”