Chapter Two: The Eccentric Doctor

“Handsome men are not treated.”
“Beautiful women are not admitted.”
“Form your own line.”
“Only four a day.”

These sixteen words, bold and meaningful, were inscribed in red on a camphor wood notice board, half a meter long and thirty centimeters wide. No matter where it was placed, it commanded attention.

The slightly old-fashioned, less-than-fifty-square-meter storefront revealed, through its glass window, a few simple medical devices neatly arranged. Four or five lovely young nurses bustled about, heads lowered in work. Above the eaves, a white signboard with red-lit characters reading “Thirteen Blades Plastic Surgery Hospital” was particularly eye-catching.

On the streets of Jinhai City, this storefront stood out among the others, its décor and layout always catching the eyes of passersby. The camphor wood notice board, with its sixteen-character motto, hung in this somewhat old, simple, and mysteriously atmospheric plastic surgery hospital, seemed a perfect fit.

Compared to the renowned Aihua Plastic Surgery Hospital across from Ninth Street—Jinhai’s most authoritative institution—its presence was nearly imperceptible.

Yet, every dawn, a long line would form in front of this small hospital, a phenomenon that could only be called a miracle.

Lin Yang sat upright by the window of the storefront, his right hand propping up his chin. He wore a white coat, fashionable white-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, half-asleep, his handsome young face full of discontent.

The late autumn nights came early and lasted long, with cold winds carrying a chill. Sleep was, without doubt, the most cherished thing. Being dragged out of bed by an alarm in the early morning would fill even the laziest soul with resentment.

Unfortunately, Lin Yang was just that kind of typical sluggard.

“Brother Yang, the place is packed with people wanting surgery again today, what should we do?” A beautiful young nurse gently pushed the door open, swaying her lithe figure as she entered. She tilted her lips in a charming smile and asked brightly.

The pleasant sound of her voice instantly cleared some of Lin Yang’s drowsiness as he slumped over the desk.

For any normal man, a beautiful woman was a deadly temptation. For Lin Yang, a young man in his prime, hormones surging, with little resistance to beauty, it was even more so.

Nurse’s uniform, S-shaped curves, a sweet voice—such a lovely, petite nurse was even more devastating. And as it happened, the nurse who stepped in was exactly this type.

Seeing it was the lovely Nurse Liu Meng, Lin Yang straightened as if he’d been pricked, quickly ruffling his messy hair to clear his mind, then looked up at the pretty nurse, a barely detectable heat flickering in his eyes. His lips curled into a beautiful arc as he grinned.

“As usual, filter them first.”

“Yes, understood.” Liu Meng smiled as she turned to leave, her heart pounding like a startled deer. She couldn’t help but be smitten by this outrageously handsome and mysterious director.

These days, mysterious handsome men were simply lethal!

...

“Why aren’t they opening yet? I made this appointment weeks in advance! If it weren’t for Brother Feng singing the praises of this ‘Thirteen Blades’ place, and for that cute girl I’m after, I’d never have come out in this dreadful weather.”

Waiting made people irritable, especially after standing for five hours on a wind-swept street. How could anyone not complain?

It was five in the morning, still dark, and having crawled out of bed early to grab the first spot, this young man with a slightly collapsed nose was naturally disgruntled after such a long wait.

If it weren’t for the promise of a more fortunate future, a handsome, well-shaped nose, and the hope of winning over the beautiful Xiang Xiang, Su Xiaodong—the son of Jinhai City’s Eastern District Police Chief, Su Tianyang—would never have put himself through this ordeal.

He’d considered having a lackey stand in line, but the hospital’s strict rules made it impossible. He almost wanted to smash the place out of frustration, but for the sake of being handsome, he endured. After all, a few hours’ wait was manageable.

If even such privileged young men were willing to follow the rules and wait to improve their looks, it was proof enough that women were truly enchanting.

...

“Isn’t that the truth? Everyone says this place is mysterious, and now I see why. Look at that notice board—those sixteen words are really something.” The man in second place, a burly fellow with a prominent scar, habitually cursed, his lip twisting, making the centipede-like scar on his face seem even more menacing.

That scar, his “glorious” mark from life on the streets at sixteen, was enough to intimidate rivals and command respect from a host of street punks. But when it came to wooing women, the scar was an obstacle—one look and the beauties would flee. How could he possibly seduce anyone then?

Should he rely on intimidation? Force himself on them? No, he wasn’t an animal—he wanted women to fall for him willingly; that was the real satisfaction.

He’d had plastic surgery more than once, but the results were always disappointing—too many side effects, the scar remained, and he’d spent a fortune. Because of this, he bore no love for most plastic surgery clinics.

He’d heard of Thirteen Blades from a friend: smaller wounds, less pain, quick results, and no scarring after surgery—a fatal temptation for anyone who cared about their looks.

If this hospital could restore his former charm, he’d be willing to serve them faithfully for life.

Brotherhood was sacred on the streets, and he was no exception.

He came with a “just try it” attitude, but after seeing the hospital’s old-fashioned and simple setup, his enthusiasm dampened. Still, the long line behind him kept him from leaving.

...

“Pretending to be mysterious—if this place can’t get rid of the scar on my leg, I’ll tear this dump down myself!” declared the petite beauty in third place, hands on her hips, glancing at the childhood scar on her right leg with arrogance.

As the cherished daughter of Deputy Mayor Guo Mingda, Guo Xiaoxiao had every reason to be imperious.

...

They say curiosity kills the cat, and it’s true. Apart from those drawn by the hospital’s reputation, many came simply out of curiosity for this mysterious place.

Through the glass window, hearing the commotion outside, Lin Yang’s lips curled into a sly grin—a calculated, knowing smile. All of this was by design. If you wanted to draw attention and build a name, you needed a touch of mystery and to stand apart.

Coming from a prominent family, Lin Yang understood this well.

Old, simple décor, sixteen meaningful red characters, the distinctive “Thirteen Blades” name, a team of beautiful nurses, and a lost art of medicine from ancient China—such revolutionary tactics were bound for success.

Thinking back to his impulsive decision two months ago—leaving home and sealing a five-year pact with his stern father—Lin Yang couldn’t help but sigh in regret.

Time had flown—two months had passed in a blink. To surpass his family’s power in five years now seemed utterly mad. What sane person would undertake such an outrageous challenge?

But the wager was made. Regret now would mean surrendering his independence, giving up the career he loved, abandoning his grand dreams, and being forced to inherit wealth and status craved by countless others.

“It’s time to open for business, Brother Yang.” Liu Meng’s bell-like voice pulled Lin Yang from his wandering thoughts.

“Oh, got it.” He turned to the ever-calling nurse, smiling in response.

He stood and left his tiny, pitiful office, heading toward the modest operating room. There was no other way—living on his own meant hardship. When he left home, his father relented and gave him a million yuan as startup capital—no more, no less. Further support would be like reaching for the stars, and Lin Yang’s stubborn nature wouldn’t allow him to ask.

A million wasn’t much, but not little either.

Rent and simple equipment cost about two hundred thousand. But in six months, refining medicinal powders had eaten into his funds—the success rate, given his current skill, was unimpressive, rarely one in ten, and main ingredients were rare treasures.

The main ingredient of the “Golden Silkworm Powder” was the chrysalis of a rare golden silkworm found only in primeval forests. After two months of collecting, spending half his resources, Lin Yang managed only twenty specimens, yielding just two small bottles of effective medicine after much trial and error.

And that was the simplest formula. The others—like Sun Pill and Morning Pill—were even more difficult.

Without a reliable supply of herbs, his enterprise would be stunted.

He changed into sterile gear and walked to the operating room. Though the facilities were basic, the sterilization was thorough.

Despite the long line, only four were selected after screening—a rule strictly observed for two months now.

Su Xiaodong with the collapsed nose, Scarface Zhao Ziheng (nicknamed Baldy), the petite Guo Xiaoxiao, and the wealthy heiress Jiang Tong were the lucky ones.

The rest could only grumble and leave. Time was as precious as gold—who would waste it? In a blink, the bustling crowd at the entrance dwindled to a few.

There were always a few troublemakers, but Lin Yang had foreseen this and enlisted the local toughs as his first line of protection. Once, a fool who stirred up trouble ended up hospitalized for half a month—an example that served as a warning.

With preparations complete, Lin Yang began treating the first fortunate patient.

After five hours in the cold, Su Xiaodong, with his collapsed nose, was first in line.

As a young hooligan, fighting was routine, and his nasal injury was a relic of those days. Because it hadn’t been treated promptly, later repairs missed the optimal window, leaving a permanent depression.

Compared to the others, his procedure was the most difficult. Lin Yang had to use all three of the three blades he’d mastered: the Opening Blade, the Blood-Sealing Blade, and the Bone-Setting Blade.

First, local anesthesia was applied. The Opening Blade made a hair-thin incision at the root of the problem. The Blood-Sealing Blade used inner energy to stop capillary bleeding instantly. The Bone-Setting Blade restored the fragmented bone to its original place. Such a complex and delicate procedure, performed through a hairline incision, would have caused a sensation if other surgeons knew.

All was done with inner energy—this was the terror and wonder of the “Thirteen Celestial Blades”—explaining why Lin Yang wore no gloves.

It was written that by the ninth blade, the Mustard Seed Blade, energy could directly anesthetize nerves, safer than any drug. But for Lin Yang, who’d only mastered the first three, that was a distant dream.

It took him a full half-hour, sweating profusely, and a third of his inner energy was spent on just the first patient.

Fortunately, the other three required less complex work—mostly scar removal, easily handled with the Opening Blade and Blood-Sealing Blade. Otherwise, treating all four would have left Lin Yang utterly exhausted.

The dual magic of the “Thirteen Celestial Blades” and “Golden Silkworm Powder” meant Lin Yang could have finished in an hour. But he deliberately stretched it to three, believing, “The more effort you show, the more willingly patients hand over their money.”

As expected, the patients were delighted with their results—scars gone, wounds healed—and generously rewarded him with several thousand each.

Upon leaving, they showered him with grateful promises, vowing to help him whenever needed.

Scarface Zhao Ziheng, the most straightforward of the bunch, offered to be his loyal servant without hesitation.

By the time all four were done and had left, it was already five in the afternoon, the sky tinged with sunset. Lin Yang was just preparing to close up and head home when, with a sharp screech, a flashy red Mercedes sports car pulled up ostentatiously in front of the hospital.