My Silly, Sweet Wife

Ye Guichen didn't pay attention to the middle-aged man, but crossed his arms and watched.

The middle-aged man seemed to understand acupuncture, and after getting the silver needles, he quickly began to apply them. In no time, he had inserted four or five needles into the child's head.

The child, who had been twitching, slowly calmed down as if he had fallen asleep.

The crowd gasped in amazement at this sight.

"Amazing!"

"It seems that traditional Chinese medicine really has its wonders!"

"Indeed, just a few needles cured him, it's truly magical."

The child's mother was also full of gratitude: "Thank you, thank you!"

The middle-aged man waved his hand dismissively: "It's nothing, just a small effort. I'll remove the needles in a moment, and the child should wake up."

As he spoke, he was about to remove the needles.

"Hold on," Ye Guichen suddenly said, stopping the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man looked up, displeased, at Ye Guichen: "What is it? Do you have something to say?"

Ye Guichen's expression was somewhat serious, staring at the child's complexion: "No, you applied the acupuncture incorrectly earlier. If you remove the needles now, not only will the child not wake up, he might be in grave danger."

"What do you mean?" The middle-aged man was immediately displeased and stood up to confront Ye Guichen: "Who are you? My name is Fan Chang'an. I come from a family of traditional Chinese acupuncturists. Years ago, my grandfather apprenticed at the Shennong Sect. Even though he was only an outer disciple, his medical skills were nearly divine. You clearly had silver needles earlier but didn't step in to help, and now you say I applied the needles incorrectly? Hmph, are you trying to make your presence known by criticizing my actions?"

Ye Guichen didn't expect such a big reaction from the middle-aged man to his words, and he explained, "Don't misunderstand, I meant no offense. If it was a case of convulsions, your needlework would be correct. But this child doesn't have convulsions; there's something dirty inside his body."

"Dirty? Are you talking about ghosts?" The middle-aged man sneered, "What kind of world is this? You still want to fool people with such talk?"

The onlookers, hearing this, began to point and talk about Ye Guichen, thinking he was seeking attention.

"Who is this guy? He didn't help, and now he's stopping others who did save the child."

"He's talking about some 'dirty' thing, what a lowly character."

"At such a young age, why learn about trickery and deception?"

Ye Guichen was helpless, knowing that any explanation would be useless.

Now that he was branded as the villain, extricating himself would not be easy.

Zhang Chongchen, however, looked at Ye Guichen with an intrigued expression: "Brother Ye, what do you mean by 'dirty'?"

Ye Guichen sighed: "Brother Zhang, look closely, the child's forehead has a dark aura, as if entangled by something. But it shouldn't be what they call ghostly possessions."

Ye Guichen wasn't sure whether ghosts existed in the world.

After all, no one had ever seen them.

However, whether it's feng shui or mysticism, they undeniably exist.

Such things, although inexplicable, constantly affect people.

Ye Guichen noticed the child's strange complexion, the dark aura lingering on his forehead was not from ghostly possession, but something like being under a spell, causing this seizure-like state.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chongchen quickly took a closer look, but after a long while, he couldn't see anything: "No, I don't see anything."

The middle-aged man couldn't care less about Ye Guichen's words, glared at him once more, and coldly snorted: "Young man, walk the right path, don't take to crooked ways. You're still young, don't make mistakes you'll regret for life."

Then, he squatted down again to remove the needles.

Ye Guichen wanted to stop him, but the child's mother scolded him: "What's wrong with you? My son is obviously fine, why interfere? How can someone like you exist in this world!"

Embarrassed by the scolding, Ye Guichen could only stop.

Soon, the needles were removed.

The child's vital signs remained stable, but he did not awaken.

The middle-aged man was puzzled: "Strange, according to the acupoints earlier, he should have woken up."

The woman, seeing the child still asleep, grew anxious: "Could it be that my son is just sleeping?"

The middle-aged man shook his head: "It shouldn't be, this is not the time for sleeping."

Seeing the middle-aged man's uncertainty, the woman became even more worried: "Doctor, aren't you the Divine Doctor from a family tradition? You said your ancestors studied at the Shennong Sect. Although I don't know what Shennong Sect is, it sounds impressive. Please, wake my son! We are going to see his father, who works out of town. If something happens, how will I explain it to him? I'm begging you, please save my son."

Saying this, the woman knelt down.

Sweat appeared on the middle-aged man's forehead: "Don't worry, hold on, I'll examine him again."

He picked up the child's wrist again, checking the pulse and pupils.

What he saw changed his expression drastically: "Impossible! How can this be!"

Seeing the panic in the middle-aged man's face, the woman was terrified: "Doctor, what's wrong with my son?"

"His organs are failing, his heartbeat is slowing down, how can this be!" The middle-aged man wiped sweat from his forehead, swallowing hard, noticeably nervous and at a loss.

Hearing his words, everyone became tense.

The woman turned pale: "What do you mean?"

"He means your son might be slowly dying," someone sorrowfully reminded.

The woman's eyes reddened immediately: "What? My son..."

"Don't worry, don't worry, didn't the young man say not to remove the needles? Check with him to see if he can do something." someone else suggested.

Everyone turned their eyes to Ye Guichen.

The middle-aged man quickly lifted his head: "You said earlier there was something 'dirty' in him, could it really be the cause?"

Ye Guichen wouldn't ignore someone in danger and shook his head: "What I meant by 'dirty' is not what you think."

Still, Ye Guichen wouldn't insist on explanation and instead looked at the woman: "The child is in danger, I can help him."

The woman, who had chastised Ye Guichen earlier, was desperate and knelt before him, kowtowing: "I'm begging you, it was all my fault earlier. If you can save my son, I'll do anything! I beg you."

"No need for that, get up!" Ye Guichen sighed, helped her up, and took the child, then began to pat the child's back.

The crowd exchanged puzzled looks.

Zhang Chongchen seemed to understand what Ye Guichen was doing. He quickly produced a plastic bag, positioning it before the child.

Though Ye Guichen's taps were gentle, there was an apparent rhythm to them.

The middle-aged man, initially skeptical of Ye Guichen's words, watched his technique and his pupils contracted, incredulous: "The Ghost God Thirteen Strokes, that's the Ghost God Thirteen Strokes?"