Chương 44: Chapter 44: The Cure
Three days had passed since Feng Yan's first visit to Du Fan's home. She had been waiting for his call, knowing that time was running out for his father. When Du Fan finally contacted her, his voice was urgent yet composed, telling her that he had gathered all the necessary herbs. Feng Yan felt a wave of surprise wash over her. Gathering the herbs in such a short time, especially the rare and expensive 500-year-old ginseng, was an astonishing feat. This herb was highly sought after, nearly impossible to find, and outrageously priced. Its presence signified the hidden power and influence of the Du family—a family that had played a significant role in Du Fan's ability to exact his revenge in her past life.
As she hung up the phone, her mind briefly wandered to the power dynamics that had previously eluded her understanding. Now it was clear how Du Fan had been able to rise so high, so swiftly. The Du family wasn't just wealthy; they wielded hidden power, connections that ran deep. Without further hesitation, Feng Yan dressed in simple, comfortable casual wear and made her way to Du Fan's house.
When she arrived, Du Fan was already waiting outside, his posture tense, his face shadowed with worry. The moment he saw her, relief flickered in his eyes. He didn't waste any time and immediately led her to his father's room, their footsteps echoing through the quiet halls.
Inside the room, Feng Yan approached Du Fan's father and once again checked his pulse. Her touch was light, yet her focus was intense. After a few moments, she sighed inwardly, a small sense of relief flooding through her. The poison hadn't spread further, thanks to the acupuncture session she had performed earlier.
"Good," she murmured, more to herself than to Du Fan. "The poison hasn't progressed."
Du Fan stood behind her, silent but anxious. His eyes never left her face, trying to read her expression. Feng Yan turned to him, her gaze sharp and clear. "Bring the herbs," she instructed. "I'll tell you how to prepare the medicine."
Du Fan nodded and rushed out of the room, returning shortly with the carefully gathered herbs. The ginseng, in particular, was a sight to behold, its age showing in its twisted roots and earthy aroma. Feng Yan gave him detailed instructions on how to concoct the medicine, her voice steady and authoritative.
"Do it yourself," she added firmly, her eyes meeting his. "I don't want anyone else in the house knowing what we're doing. This has to stay between us."
Du Fan's jaw tightened, but he understood the gravity of her words. He nodded and set to work, his movements precise as he followed her instructions to the letter. The room was filled with the smell of herbs simmering in the pot, a strange yet comforting scent.
Once the medicine was ready, Feng Yan had Du Fan feed it to his father, spoon by spoon, careful not to rush. Each drop was measured, each movement calculated. After his father had taken the full dose, Feng Yan took a deep breath and readied herself for the next phase. She retrieved her acupuncture needles, her hands steady despite the tension in the room.
The second session was even more critical than the first. Feng Yan knew this was the turning point. The poison had to be purged from his system, but the process was delicate. Any misstep, any distraction, could lead to severe side effects—possibly even death.
Her focus was absolute. The room felt heavy with silence, and even Du Fan, who had been standing in the corner, barely dared to breathe. His eyes were glued to Feng Yan as she worked, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Her movements were precise, her concentration unwavering. The strain was clear; her energy was being drained with every second, but she pushed through, determined to see the procedure to the end.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally withdrew the last needle. Her body trembled with exhaustion, and her face had gone pale from the intense effort. She sat back, breathing heavily, her hands shaking slightly as she wiped the sweat from her brow.
Du Fan, who had been holding his breath, saw the exhaustion on her face and felt a pang of guilt. He moved closer, but she raised a hand, signaling that she wasn't done yet. She took his father's pulse one last time, her expression softening as she felt the steady rhythm beneath her fingertips.
Feng Yan turned to Du Fan, her voice barely above a whisper but steady. "Come closer," she said. He stepped forward, his face full of apprehension.
"Make sure your father is not disturbed tonight," she instructed. "Let him rest. By tomorrow morning, he will wake up. His condition should improve significantly after a full night's sleep."
Hearing these words, Du Fan finally felt the tension leave his body. Relief washed over him, the weight of his worries slowly lifting. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to hope. His father's life was no longer hanging by a thread. He glanced at Feng Yan, gratitude shining in his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips.
Feng Yan gave a small nod, her own exhaustion evident. "Just make sure he rests," she reminded him, her voice soft but firm.
Du Fan nodded earnestly, his heart swelling with gratitude. As Feng Yan began to gather her things, preparing to leave, he couldn't help but watch her with a new sense of respect. She had done more than just help his father—she had given him hope, something he had nearly lost.
As she walked toward the door, he called out one last time, "Feng Yan..."
She turned, her face still pale but composed. "Yes?"
He struggled for a moment, his words catching in his throat, but all he could say was, "I won't forget this."
Feng Yan simply nodded, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips. "Just take care of your father," she said before stepping out of the room, leaving Du Fan standing there, a mix of relief and determination coursing through him.
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