RYEY -Chapter 487 Public Exam (Part 2)

On stage, a table and two chairs had been arranged. A pulse pillow, a set of silver needles, a pen, and a stack of white paper were ready.

A man in a gray Zhongshan suit walked up, coughing continuously. Students speculated whether it was a cold or pharyngitis.

He sat, frowning at the empty seat opposite. He had asthma, controlled with medication, but a recent cold left him short of breath.

Had he not heard that the girl’s medical skills were exceptional, he wouldn’t have registered. Now he was first in line, facing no patient.

When the bell rang again, Cheng Qiao finally arrived, stepping onto the stage with the last chime. She sat opposite the patient, took out a box of alcohol cotton balls, and disinfected her hands.

Soft gasps filled the hall. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the woman on stage, dressed in a loose white coat, black straight trousers, and black leather shoes.

Her jet-black hair was tied in a low bun, adorned with a small, diamond-studded clip on the right side, which shimmered in the light as she moved her head.

“Wow, what a beautiful girl.”

“Her hairpin is so pretty, I wonder where I can buy one.”

“Shh… don’t talk. Do you want to get kicked out?”

The male students were all stunned by the radiant Cheng Qiao. Especially those senior students who had entered the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine with her—they were still buried in their third-year textbooks, while she was already taking the public graduation exam.

The female students’ eyes showed a mix of envy and jealousy, especially when they saw her fair, tender face that seemed almost squeezable for water, and her hairpin that sparkled with tiny gleams—they didn’t even know what exactly to envy.

“Reach out your hand.”

The man extended his hand. When a few snow-white, delicate fingers landed on his wrist, his face turned red. Over forty years old, and still being touched by a little girl.

“Liu Jianshe, male, forty-five years old. You’ve had a cold for a week, right?”

“How do you know I’ve had a cold for a week? Did someone tell you?”

Liu Jianshe looked at Cheng Qiao in surprise. Cheng Qiao smiled slightly—”just by seeing the severity of your cough and your complexion, I can tell your condition. No need for anyone to inform me.”

“You also have asthma. Although you’ve been taking medication for years, it only suppresses the symptoms and doesn’t cure it. Stop taking that medicine, or in ten years, your femoral head could be damaged by it.”

“What? My femoral head damaged? If I don’t take it, I can’t breathe, but if I take it, my femoral head gets ruined… How am I supposed to live?”

“Treat your cold first. Come back in a few days, and I’ll treat your asthma. Here’s the prescription—you can go directly to the pharmacy at the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine to get the medicine.

When you get home, soak the herbs in clean water for an hour, then boil three bowls of water down to one bowl of decoction, and drink it three times a day. At most, you’ll recover in two days.”

Liu Jianshe looked at the prescription in his hand. The characters flowed like running water—not deeply carved, but the brushwork was graceful, muscular, and strong.

“This girl has beautiful handwriting. Just from her handwriting alone, I can trust her.”

Liu Jianshe stood up and held the prescription toward the auditorium. The students in the front row could see it clearly—they weren’t paying attention to what medicine Cheng Qiao had prescribed; they were captivated by her handwriting.

“Wow…”

“How can her writing be so good? My handwriting looks like a dog crawling.”

“Same here, my mom says my writing looks like tadpole script, and sometimes I don’t even know what I’m writing myself, haha…”

“It’s just better handwriting, that can be practiced. I’ll go home and practice—I’ll definitely be better than her.”

“What kind of prescription is she writing? Look at that Guizhi, she actually prescribed a double dose—this is nonsense.”

“Yeah, I think I heard her say the cold will heal in just two days. That’s bragging. Hope she doesn’t blow herself up…”

“Quiet! You, out. And you… and you… all three of you, out.”

The dean stood up, pointing at the female students with a sharp gaze. Lazy and incapable, yet unable to tolerate someone else being excellent—what kind of people are they?

The girls turned pale. They had forgotten the dean’s rules. Luckily, they were only being expelled from the auditorium. If they were expelled from school, they would truly regret it.

The boys nearby also kept silent—they had been noisy too, but since they were praising Cheng Qiao, they were safe. Otherwise, they’d have been kicked out by the headmaster.

The three girls glared at Cheng Qiao on stage with shame and anger—a little demon, even dressing up for an exam, trying to seduce someone.

Everyone in the auditorium shut their mouths. Some were so cautious they even folded a handkerchief into a strip to cover their mouths.

Liu Jianshe hadn’t expected his simple action to cause trouble for Cheng Qiao. Just as he was about to apologize, the next person came up, and he had to leave, handing the prescription to the principal.

The principal glanced at the prescription, raising his eyebrows slightly. No wonder Liu Jianshe’s cold wasn’t improving—the dosage they were using was too low.

But the patient has asthma. Can such a high dosage even be handled? Doesn’t matter—Ye Jun is here, even a dead person would be awakened.

Cheng Qiao worked fast: taking the pulse, observing the complexion, checking the tongue, sometimes even sniffing. She performed the full traditional Chinese medicine diagnostic method: inspection, auscultation and olfaction, inquiry, and palpation.

Some patients had external injuries: sprains, falls, or bruises. Cheng Qiao either used silver needles to stimulate acupoints or applied her own hemostatic powder.

The results were astonishing. A woman whose face was bruised from a fall worried about scarring, but Cheng Qiao’s powder quickly stopped the bleeding and advised that as long as she avoided dark-colored or triggering foods, her face would naturally heal.

The doctors standing in the corner exchanged astonished glances. If this student could work in their hospital after graduation, it would be perfect. At this speed, she could easily replace three doctors.

“Old Xia, isn’t this hemostatic powder a special formula developed by Director Ye? The effect is amazing. Should we…”

“No. Director Ye is not someone you can casually confront.”

The principal turned, glaring at the talking doctors. Unfortunately, he couldn’t kick them out; otherwise, his temper would have made him.

When the last patient sat opposite Cheng Qiao, she looked at the paper on the table. Just one sheet left. This exam was strict, not even allowing modification of prescriptions.