Chapter 371: The Early Morning Queue for Master Chen

“So many people!”

Su Qianqian was used to attention. Wherever she went, big sunglasses, a sun hat, and shapeless clothes designed to hide her perfect figure were her go-to disguise.

“A big crowd’s a good sign,” she said. “If both Director Jian and Director Jiang recommend this old Master Chen, he must be the real deal.”

But Zhou Can had his own thoughts about the situation.

The number of people lining up was truly incredible. Even though it was only just after seven in the morning, there were already more than fifty people waiting.

If Zhou Can hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed that a traditional Chinese medicine doctor could attract such a crowd just by seeing patients at home.

Compared to Master Chen, the specialists at Tuyu had to be feeling a little embarrassed.

Even with Tuyu’s massive backing behind them, those experts might not draw as much of a crowd as this Master Chen.

“Qianqian, looks like we’re in for a long wait. Why don’t you go wait in the car while I hold our spot in line?”

Zhou Can genuinely cared for his girlfriend and didn’t want her standing here for hours.

But Su Qianqian flat-out refused.

She looped her arm through his, unfazed by the curious looks people threw their way.

“I want to cherish every moment we get together! Besides, I’m not that delicate, you know.”

Since she put it that way, Zhou Can could only give in.

More and more patients kept arriving, joining the queue.

Zhou Can was secretly relieved they’d made it early. Any later, and they might have to wait until afternoon with no guarantee of being seen.

Around 7:40, the door finally opened.

A spry old man carried a table outside. A boy about ten years old—presumably his grandson—brought out two chairs. One for the old man, the other for the patient on the opposite side.

The old man looked like any ordinary grandpa next door: thin, simply dressed, nothing out of the ordinary.

A single pen, a stethoscope, a black wrist pillow, and a prescription pad made up his entire collection of medical gear.

Calling it bare-bones would be an understatement—this setup was downright stingy.

“Same rules as always, everyone! I’ll try to see fifty people this morning, another fifty in the afternoon. Consultation fee is six yuan per person. Only a hundred numbers will be given out. If you don’t get a number, I’m sorry—you’ll have to come back another time, or try the hospital.”

The old man’s hearty voice rang out strong and clear.

Anyone practicing traditional medicine is an expert at nursing the body.

They all understood the importance of consistent exercise, herbal teas for wellness, and eating right to keep themselves in top shape.

With that, the old man took a seat and started seeing patients.

The little boy handed out number tokens to patients one by one.

These were special wooden tags, about three inches long and two wide. The front was engraved with a number, the back with the surname ‘Chen.’

It wasn’t long before Su Qianqian reached the front of the line.

“Big sis, are you here for a consultation?”

“Yep!”

Su Qianqian nodded.

The boy gave her a curious look, then handed her a number token.

“Hey there, I bet you’ve picked up a lot from your grandpa, since he’s such a great doctor?” Zhou Can started up a chat with him.

“I’ve only learned the basics of traditional medicine. Uncle, did you want to ask me something?”

The boy gave Zhou Can a quick once-over.

“Can you tell what’s wrong with this lady right here?” Zhou Can pressed.

“Well… I might not be spot-on, so don’t hold it against me if I’m wrong,” the boy said, focusing on Su Qianqian’s hands for a moment. “Looks like her kidneys aren’t in the best shape.”

Impressive—the kid didn’t even take her pulse, just glanced and made a diagnosis that wasn’t far off.

“You’re proof that great teachers make great students! That was amazing. What you did just now—is that the visual diagnosis technique from traditional Chinese medicine?”

Zhou Can gave him a thumbs up.

He didn’t know much about traditional medicine.

Naturally, he assumed the boy had used visual diagnosis. But from what Zhou Can understood, that usually meant checking the face or tongue—yet the boy had focused on Su Qianqian’s hands.

“I used Nail Observation. It’s a branch of visual diagnosis!” the boy announced proudly.

“That was really eye-opening. Thank you!”

Zhou Can actually knew quite a bit about Western medicine—like how surgery alone has a ton of subspecialties: gastrointestinal, hepatobiliary, pancreas, and so on. But he’d never realized how TCM subdivided itself, not by department, but by diagnostic skill.

Even the visual diagnosis technique was split into Nail Observation, Facial Observation, Tongue Coating, and other specialties.

He stopped bothering the boy, since there were plenty of other patients waiting for their numbers. Still, it felt like he’d just discovered a whole new world of medicine.

It was a field sitting right here in his own country, but he’d never paid it any mind.

Maybe traditional Chinese medicine was even more impressive than he’d thought.

One thing he found fascinating was how Western medicine organizes its fields around organs and systems—cardiac surgery, thoracic surgery, cardiovascular medicine, neurology, and so on.

Even when you get very specialized, it’s always about drilling down into a specific organ or system.

But with TCM, it seemed like everything was organized by technique rather than body part.

Nail Observation, Facial Observation, Tongue Coating, Body Form—they’re all branches of visual diagnosis.

And then there’s pulse diagnosis, the most profound part of TCM. They’ve broken pulses into a whole range of types.

Every subdivision in TCM boils down to technique, not just a particular body organ. Like inspecting tongue coating—such a small thing, but it reflects the health of all five organs and the whole system.

Pulse diagnosis is the same way, covering the entire body.

It’s said that a master TCM pulse reading is as thorough as a full check-up.

Now that Zhou Can had seen at least a slice of it, he was a lot more hopeful about their consultation.

Honestly, before coming this morning, even seeing the crowds, Zhou Can couldn’t help his doubts about TCM. It just always seemed kind of mysterious.

The line kept moving, each patient consulting the old master in turn.

From a distance, Zhou Can watched as Master Chen would have the patient sit, ask a few questions about their symptoms, then have them place a hand on the wrist pillow. The master pressed his fingers over the patient’s wrist.

That was pulse diagnosis.

Rumor had it that pulse diagnosis was a fine art—the places where the doctor pressed were three points: cun, guan, and chi.

Each site corresponded to different pulse qualities.

For most patients, Master Chen would ask some simple questions, take the pulse, and write a prescription on the spot. Only for especially complex cases did he ask them to open their mouths to look at their tongues, or check both the right and left pulses.

Each patient was charged only six yuan.

To be honest, that was a bargain—much cheaper than hospital rates.

Even the lowest hospital registration fee at Tuyu was ten yuan these days.

And if you think that ten yuan is all you’ll pay, you’re dreaming. After registration, you still need to pay for all sorts of tests—just a routine blood or urine panel will cost more than ten.

Get an ultrasound done, and there goes another hundred plus.

If you need something special, like a PET-CT scan for tumors, that test costs at least eight thousand, sometimes up to twelve thousand yuan for a single scan.

No joke—a single test can run twelve thousand yuan.

And even then, there’s still a chance of missing the diagnosis. So you could spend a fortune and still end up with nothing or find out there’s no issue after all.

Some unscrupulous hospitals, whenever a patient’s suspected of having a tumor—even if a normal CT or ultrasound is enough—still push for the expensive PET-CT.

Once you’re in the hospital, patients and their families almost always trust the doctor.

Normally, nobody would agree to pay over ten grand for a test, but doctors can be masters of persuasion. All it takes is, ‘If this really is a malignant tumor, we can catch it early, remove it, and spare you from cancer.’ That sounds almost like a lifeline.

And if you don’t check now, the doctor warns the illness could get worse.

By the time it’s found, you might’ve missed the window for surgery—meaning only radiotherapy, chemo, and expensive imported drugs can keep you going. The bill isn’t just a few thousand but can run into the tens or even millions. And no money can buy your life back. Based on clinical stats, late-stage cancer’s five-year survival rate is under five percent.

With such scaremongering, no wonder most patients end up paying for the expensive tests.

By contrast, look at Master Chen—a six yuan fee, and he can spot the problem and write a prescription. The patient takes it, buys the medicine, and that’s it.

It’s just so much more affordable than hospital treatment.

If Master Chen’s treatment actually worked, if it could really cure the illness,

then it would be an unbelievable bargain.

No wonder so many patients flocked here first thing in the morning.

Suddenly, commotion rose from the back of the crowd.

“Young man, we heard Master Chen is both skilled and affordable! We even stayed three days in a hotel here, all the way from another province. Can you please ask him to make an exception and add one more slot for us?”

A middle-aged man in his fifties pushed his elderly mother in a wheelchair, desperate for help.

He pleaded with the boy for an extra appointment.

Who would have thought the one hundred tokens would be gone so quickly?

“Hold on, I’ll ask Grandpa!”

The boy raced forward to consult Master Chen. After a quick exchange, he returned with a token that had no number—just a green bamboo leaf—and gave it to the middle-aged man.

He’d managed to squeeze them in.

Other patients saw what happened and started begging too.

But this time, the boy didn’t budge.

He soothed them as best he could, urging them to come next time instead.

“Honey, this Master Chen is really famous! Good thing we came out so early,” Su Qianqian said, relieved.

“Now you see why I insisted we leave first thing! If I hadn’t dragged you out, you’d still be fussing with your clothes,” Zhou Can teased.

Girls always spend ages picking their outfits, doing their makeup, making sure everything’s perfect before heading out.

And for a celebrity like Su Qianqian, leaving the house bare-faced is a recipe for trouble. If the paparazzi catch an unflattering shot, it can easily spark negative scandals.

Just look at all those unflattering photos of stars or idols online—bet they’d all love to strangle the paparazzi who caught them at their worst.

“Oh please! I wanted to coordinate a whole outfit, but you wouldn’t let me. You barely let me put on any makeup. You’re so bossy!”

She pouted, grumbling.

“Come on, my queen—you’re a natural beauty. Who needs makeup?”

Zhou Can didn’t dare upset her, so he moved fast to cheer her up.

“Well, since you’re so sweet, I’ll forgive you. But do you really think Master Chen can fix my illness?”

She loved Zhou Can to the core—no way was she angry over something this small.

Every couple argues from time to time—it’s what gives a relationship its flavor. Couples who are all manners and politeness often drift apart. Without little spats, problems get buried, festering until they finally explode.

And when that happens, it’s like a landslide—divorce comes as quick as a snap.

Only couples who can bicker and quarrel grow stronger together.

It’s through these arguments that someone learns to give in, to use love and patience to accept each other. Bit by bit, both people learn to forgive and understand. That’s how love gets deep.

“Don’t worry. When he writes out the prescription, we’ll fill it and you can start the course—then we’ll see if it works.”

Zhou Can did his best to comfort her.

When it came to traditional medicine’s ability to treat chronic kidney failure, Zhou Can honestly had no clue.

After all, TCM treats based on syndrome differentiation—everyone gets a unique prescription.

No two treatments are ever exactly the same.

Nearly three hours later, it was finally their turn.

“Hello, Master Chen. Director Jian Dong sent us—we’d love for you to take a look at my girlfriend.”

Zhou Can introduced himself.

In a world of connections, sometimes who you know really does help.

“Please, take a seat!”

Master Chen glanced them over kindly, clearly pleased to hear Jian Dong had recommended them.

Even though Zhou Can had insider help, he’d still waited like everyone else.

That spoke volumes about his character.

People with manners and morals are always more likable.

“Here are our hospital test results!”

Zhou Can handed over a stack of medical reports.

“Young man, Western test results don’t mean much to us TCM practitioners. We use a completely different system. Just tell me what illness she has and what symptoms you’re seeing.”

Master Chen didn’t even reach for the test results—he seemed almost dismissive of hospital paperwork.

This was Zhou Can’s first time with a TCM doctor, and he was clueless about the etiquette.

He quickly put away the reports and explained his girlfriend’s condition instead.

Su Qianqian filled in the details from the side.

“Let me see your hand first.”

Master Chen examined her hand closely, checking her nails and palm lines.

“Now stick out your tongue and open wide for me.”

She stretched out her delicate tongue for him to inspect.

“Place your right hand on the wrist pillow so I can take your pulse.”

After looking at her tongue, he gave her face a careful look.

Then came pulse diagnosis.

“Let’s try the left hand as well.”

He had her switch hands for another pulse reading.

With someone like Director Jian Dong vouching for her, Master Chen clearly took extra care and time with Su Qianqian’s assessment.

“Now, let me have a look at your eyes!”

He gestured for her to remove her sunglasses.

“The kidneys govern water, so the first signs of trouble often show in the eyes.”

He explained gently.

Su Qianqian took off her sunglasses, her big shimmering black eyes extra dazzling.

Master Chen carefully checked her eyelids and eyes, leaving nothing overlooked.

He looked at both eyes in detail.

“Your left kidney is a bit more serious, but the right one isn’t as bad. I’ll write three packs of medicine—each pack lasts three days. These herbs are bitter; some people add licorice or even sugar, but you can’t do that.”

He gave her a heads up—no sweeteners allowed, even if the medicine tasted bad.

“Can she have sugar in the future?”

Zhou Can usually just told her to go easy on sugar and salt, but he’d never completely forbidden them.

Salt is essential for the body—you go a few days without, and you start getting weak and all sorts of symptoms show up.

Sugar’s just as necessary.

Too much is bad, but go without it and you’re in trouble, too.