A Shaman Doctor’s Live Diagnosis Stream! 51p1

Chapter 51 Part 1

Everyone in the room froze, their smiles vanishing. “? Where?”

“Lie down!”

Almost in unison, they snapped, their concern overriding their respect.

The students, seeing Zhao Qingyun’s frustrated silence, felt both helpless and worried.

The principal, the most senior among them, stepped forward, taking Zhao Qingyun’s frail but warming hand, and said, “Professor Zhao, please rest, I’ll request a leave of absence for you. Your health is important.”

Zhao Qingyun, still anxious, his eyes glued to his laptop screen, could feel his strength returning. He knew his life had been extended.

But he didn’t know for how long. He had to make the most of his remaining time.

Zhao Qingyun tried to speak, “I feel much better, you can push me there in my wheelchair.”

His breathing eased, his speech clearer.

The principal, hands behind his back, looked at Wu Heng with a mixture of relief and exasperation. “Doctor Wu, I can’t control him, please deal with your patient.”

Wu Heng, having dealt with many stubborn patients who refused to follow his instructions, smiled easily. “Professor Zhao, I strongly advise you to rest for a few months. Heaven granted you a few more years, seven at the very least, thirteen at the most, but you’re still mortal, if you ruin your health again, even immortals can’t save you.”

Seven and thirteen held special significance in the Yin and Yang theory. Seven was considered the dividing line between Yin and Yang, the origin of the term “first seven” (the seventh day after death).

In ancient China, the twelve Earthly Branches were used for counting, and thirteen represented transcendence of reincarnation, and in Buddhism, perfect merit.

Wu Heng, as an ancient shaman doctor, was well-versed in Zhu Youshu (medical chanting), which was coincidentally the thirteenth category in medical practices.

This was the limit of Heaven’s leniency. Nothing in this world was eternal, all beings were bound by the laws of nature.

Everyone stared at Wu Heng in shock.

“At least seven years, up to thirteen?!”

That wasn’t a short time!

Many pinched themselves, the pain confirming it wasn’t a dream.

The old man, who was on his deathbed just moments ago, now had another decade or so to live! How could this be?

Even Zhao Qingyun was stunned. He thought he only had six months, a year at most, and now he had seven to thirteen years?

Enough time to nurture two more batches of students for his country.

But, as Wu Heng said, he was still mortal, if he didn’t take care of himself, no one could save him.

Wang Lang, his composure gone, exclaimed, “Don’t worry, Doctor Wu! I’ll watch over Teacher! He won’t even see a single cigarette!”

“I’ll supervise his sleep schedule! If he’s still awake past 10 p.m., I’ll… I’ll turn off the lights! Like in the dorms, and cut off the internet,” another female student added.

The principal, still in a daze, chimed in, “In that case, I’ll request a mandatory leave of absence for Professor Zhao, so he can rest and recover.”

“Yes, and also…”

Zhao Qingyun, looking at his concerned students, smiled wryly but gratefully.

If… if he could really live another seven, even thirteen years, then he could slow down a bit, rest and recover, occasionally reading research materials.

“Doctor Wu, does Teacher still need chemotherapy for his lung cancer?” a student asked the crucial question.

They had witnessed the horrors of cancer. A healthy man, reduced to skin and bones in just a few months. Professor Zhao had even been coughing up blood a few days ago, the cancer had metastasized, his condition seemed irreversible.

If he wanted to live, did he still need chemotherapy? But they were afraid he couldn’t handle it, seven months, let alone seven years, seemed impossible.

Wu Heng looked surprised, “He’s cured, why would he need chemotherapy?”

Everyone froze, then erupted in cheers. “!!! That’s great!”

The cheers reached the students and reporters waiting outside, leaving them bewildered. What was going on?

Why were they celebrating?

They had heard stories about cancer patients miraculously recovering after going on trips, but they dismissed them as rumors. Could it be true? Perhaps it was Heaven’s blessing.

Zhao Qingyun, sitting up in bed, slightly dazed, could he really continue living without suffering? He had been prepared for a slow, painful decline, paralyzed and bedridden, as long as his mind was still functioning, that was enough. He hadn’t expected to be healthy again.

Zhao Qingyun murmured, “I… don’t deserve this.”

All he did was his duty, nurtured by his country when he was young, repaying his debt now that he had achieved something. How could he deserve Heaven’s favor?

Zhao Qingyun felt a surge of gratitude, and he was even more determined to develop new missiles for his country.

Wu Heng emphasized, “So, Patient Zhao, I strongly advise you to rest, follow my instructions.”

The beaming principal immediately said, “We understand, Professor Zhao understands too, he’ll definitely cooperate with the doctor.”

The students cheered, “Yes, yes, yes! We all heard him! We’ll supervise him!”

Zhao Qingyun: “…” Fine, he would take credit for that.

He did understand. Doctor Wu’s emphasis was on taking good care of his health, this second chance at life.

The earlier somber atmosphere was replaced by joy and laughter.

Wu Heng, not wanting to disturb their reunion, sat aside, quietly writing the prescription.

‘Dad,’ his daughter, cupping her face in her hands, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, whispered.

Life wasn’t always happy, death wasn’t always painful.

As his children, they wanted him to rest.

To others, Zhao Qingyun was a national hero, a brilliant professor, but to them, he was just their father, a neglectful husband and father.

Zhao Qingyun looked at his children, tears streaming down his face. He had once again chosen his country and his ideals over his family.

His children watched him. They had planned their reunion in the afterlife, but now it was just a dream, they couldn’t even hug him, their Yin qi harmful to the living.

The male spirit gently patted his sister’s shoulder, forcing a smile. ‘It’s okay.’

‘We’ll clean the house and wait for you, Dad. We’ll be reunited one day.’

It was just a matter of time, and as family, they were good at waiting.

‘We should go, we’ve already made the Yin messenger waste his trip, the male spirit said apologetically to the dejected Beijing Yin messenger.

The Yin messenger, hearing this, immediately took out a black wooden tag, like an ID card, and said enthusiastically to Zhao Qingyun, ‘Professor Zhao, this is my ID. I’m Yin Messenger 014 of the North Beijing District! 014! 014! Remember this, call 014 in your dreams next time! I’m always ready to escort you!’

Four unhappy ghosts appeared that night.

“Okay, I’ll remember,” Zhao Qingyun’s vision blurred with tears as he watched his children leave with the Yin messenger.

Did he regret it?

Zhao Qingyun was certain he didn’t. It was better for him to watch his family leave than for them to watch him leave, helpless and heartbroken.

‘Let’s go!’ the Yin messenger said impatiently, pulling Zhao Qingyun, who was still tied to the balcony railing.

Zhao Qingyun, having witnessed the scene inside, felt a pang of sadness in his heart.

He had spent so much money, bought so many years, only to live for twenty more, while that man inside hadn’t spent a single cent, gaining thirteen years.

They were both human, yet so different.

Zhao Qingyun couldn’t help but ask, ‘Master, can I return to the human world for a few hours? I want to change my will.’

He had named his grandson as his heir, but now, knowing that he wasn’t his biological grandson, it was better to leave his assets to his nieces and nephews, his blood relatives. How could he leave everything to an outsider?

His love for his grandson had vanished. It had been based entirely on their blood ties.

Zhao Qingyun knew he had just died, his body wouldn’t be cremated so soon, and besides, there were news reports about corpses coming back to life, returning to the human world for a while shouldn’t be a problem.

The Yin messenger, annoyed by tonight’s change of plans, glared at him coldly. ‘You want to return? Don’t the souls whose lifespan you stole also want to return? The dead should mind their own business! Stop acting like a rich tycoon down here! There will be plenty of suffering for you! Now, let’s go!’

The Yin messenger took out his whip and lashed it at Zhao Qingyun.

Zhao Qingyun, unaccustomed to such treatment, screamed as he was dragged towards the underworld, his children watching.

As for the fight between his unrelated grandson and his nieces and nephews over his inheritance, he no longer cared.

Wu Heng handed the prescription to the principal. “Take this for three months, before meals, three times a day. Stay positive, and the cancer cells will disappear naturally.”

The principal nodded, then said, “Doctor Wu, the payment will be delivered in a few days, don’t worry.”

Wu Heng wasn’t concerned, he would accept whatever they could offer.

Chen Zhao, hearing about payment, his eyes gleaming, couldn’t help but ask, “Doctor Wu, is there any chance I could become your disciple?”

Wu Heng glanced at him, “Sure, you’ve worked hard today. This humble master will give you two hundred yuan as an allowance.”

Chen Zhao was silent. “My current master is pretty good too. I’ll pass.”

As expected, there were no good masters. Even Wu Heng had become a cheapskate. Truly a moral decline.

Wu Heng checked the time on his phone and, deciding it was getting late, bid farewell to Professor Zhao and his family.

Xu Qian, seeing Wu Heng about to leave, caught up to him, her words catching in her throat.

Wu Heng knew about her situation, the two hundred thousand debt. “Next spring, if you have time, plant an apricot tree at the university. When it bears fruit, send me some, consider it payment for my services.”

Xu Qian’s eyes reddened. She probably couldn’t afford much, but she could still afford a Carnival gift in his live stream.

“Thank you, Doctor Wu, I’ll definitely plant one.”

The little white snake, poking its head out of Wu Heng’s sleeve, asked, ‘Wu Heng, you want apricots? Why not plant one in front of the clinic?’

Then it could climb up and eat the fresh fruit.

Wu Heng looked at the little white snake with an affectionate but slightly pitying gaze. “Study more, apricot trees grow in the north.”

They couldn’t grow in Nan Nuo village.

The little white snake: ‘…Oh.‘

It was suddenly glad He Yunxiao and his friends were kept outside.

‘You haven’t studied much either!’ it retorted.

Wu Heng, walking towards the exit, said, “Traveling ten thousand li is better than reading ten thousand books, I’ve been to many places.”

The little white snake quickly slithered into his right sleeve and said to Xi Xi, twisting his words, ‘Xi Xi, your godfather said traveling is important, so I’ll visit you more often! Over three thousand kilometers each way, that’s tens of thousands of li!’

Xi Xi was speechless. ‘Huh? Oh, okay.’

The reporters filmed as Wu Heng emerged from the apartment, accompanied by the principal, Counselor Xu, and several students.