After arriving at Baining Hospital, Yan Feifan borrowed a cosmetic surgery suite and micro-shaping instruments to perform a minor nose adjustment on Ding Xuan.
Her surgery was relatively simple.
After applying local anesthesia, Yan Feifan, who knew exactly what to do, worked without pause and finished the procedure in less than twenty minutes.
After that, Yan Feifan went to the neurosurgery inpatient ward and completed two procedures involving percutaneous ethanol injections for spinal canal tumors.
By the time he finished the two surgeries, it was about lunchtime.
However, when Yan Feifan came out of the operating room and met his sister, Yu Suye, and Song Yi, he found that they all looked grim.
"The results of the pulse diagnosis weren’t good?" Yan Feifan asked worriedly.
"This is all your fault!"
Yan Ziruo raised her small fist and thumped her brother a few times, complaining, "I was perfectly healthy, feeling great, but you talked me into getting my pulse read, and they found a ton of problems."
"It’s either a ’deficiency’ here, a ’coldness’ there, or I’m ’lacking’ something somewhere else."
"Mr. Yu said my body needs at least a year to recuperate, and that I’d best not get pregnant within the next three years."
"Feifan, at this rate, I won’t be able to have a baby until I’m over thirty! I’ll be considered an older mother for sure."
Yan Feifan stepped forward and hugged his sister. "Sis, your health is the most important thing," he said, comforting her. "Once you’ve fully recovered, you’ll live a long and healthy life, and you’ll be able to have a healthy, beautiful, and smart baby."
"Besides, medical technology is so advanced now, you can have a baby even in your forties or fifties."
Yan Feifan then looked at Song Yi and asked, "What about you?"
Song Yi’s face fell. "Even worse than your sister’s," she said. "He said there isn’t a single one of my internal organs that doesn’t have a problem."
"Mr. Yu told me to worry less, get plenty of rest, and stick to a regular schedule. I also need a year to recover and shouldn’t get pregnant within the next three years."
At this, Song Yi spread her arms. "Feifan, I’m in such a miserable state. Don’t I get a comforting hug?"
Yan Feifan was at a loss for words.
However, he let go of his sister and gave Song Yi a hug.
Then, surrounded by the three women, Yan Feifan walked into the office for his own pulse diagnosis from Mr. Yu.
Yan Feifan placed his wrist on the pulse pillow. The moment Mr. Yu’s fingers touched him, Yan Feifan noticed the old man’s expression turn grave.
This couldn’t help but make Yan Feifan feel apprehensive, a sense of dread creeping over him.
’Has my condition gotten worse again?’
Yan Feifan waited patiently for Mr. Yu to finish reading the pulse on both his wrists. Only then did he ask, feigning a relaxed tone, "Mr. Yu, my condition is much better than last time, right?"
Mr. Yu, with his white hair and youthful complexion, spoke slowly. "Regarding the Heart Sutra alone, it is indeed much clearer compared to how sluggish it was last time."
Hearing this, Yan Feifan sighed inwardly.
Over the past while, besides Yiyi, who still showed up occasionally, Erer and Sansan hadn’t appeared at all.
Yan Feifan knew this was a good sign.
But he still felt a little down about it.
Without their company, imprisoned in that timeless world of consciousness, he would have lost his mind long ago.
Without them, the Yan Feifan of today wouldn’t exist.
He hoped, more than anything, that Yiyi—who was like a mentor and a friend, constantly encouraging and pushing him—would never disappear.
After a moment of silent reflection, Yan Feifan asked, "Mr. Yu, from the way you say that, I take it other things aren’t so optimistic?"
Mr. Yu studied Yan Feifan’s face and said gravely, "Xiaoyan, you’re familiar with the saying that extreme brilliance invites its own destruction, aren’t you?"
Yan Feifan nodded slightly, and Mr. Yu continued in a low, measured voice, "I’m not being an alarmist, Xiaoyan. I’ve found that you show signs of being a lamp running out of oil."
The moment he said this, the faces of Yan Ziruo, Yu Suye, and Song Yi, who were standing around Yan Feifan, all paled drastically.
"Mr. Yu, is that true?"
"Great-Grandfather, how can we treat and prevent it?"
"Mr. Yu, don’t say such things!"
Mr. Yu lifted his eyelids, glanced at the three of them, and once again turned his gaze to Yan Feifan’s face.
"Xiaoyan, your biggest problem is your severe expenditure of mental energy."
"And mental energy is not something medicine can easily replenish!"
Mr. Yu issued a solemn warning, "If you don’t want to end up like Zhuge Kongming, who worked himself to death on the Wuzhang Plateau, you should know what you must do..."
The results of Yan Ziruo and Song Yi’s pulse diagnoses, and especially Yan Feifan’s, were hardly cause for celebration.
The group sat in a private dining room at a restaurant, but faced with a table laden with a feast of exquisite dishes, none of them had any appetite.
"Alright, that’s it..."
Yan Ziruo slapped the table lightly, her expression grim. "Feifan, you’re quitting. You’re not going to be a doctor anymore."
"Come home and just do nothing. I’ll support you."
Yan Feifan shot her a look. "Sis, healing the sick and saving lives is my purpose. It’s what gives my life meaning."