Chapter Nineteen: Rebirth from Broken Bones

“Boss Wu, since Dr. Xiao has the courage, I think we should let her go to Boss Zhao’s hospital. I’ll manage the business here with a bit more effort, and at the same time, I’ll train a few more doctors for you,” Duan Jijin spoke up at this moment. “Besides, it’s not just me; Professor Park, many doctors from Korea, and even doctors from Japan and other countries are all interested in Dr. Xiao’s breakthrough in this global challenge. I believe that if we send out invitations, these doctors will surely come to China to observe.”

A sharp intake of breath.

Even though Zhao Lei had already decided to accept this favor from Xiao Yuru, using it to befriend someone like Liu Yiran and expand his circle, Duan Jijin’s words made him gasp. Duan Jijin was clearly aiming to completely blacklist Xiao Yuru. The crucial point was, if this really happened, it wouldn’t just be a humiliation for the medical aesthetics industry in Linhai, but for all of China. This old man was willing to go so far just to win an argument—it was nothing short of treason.

Zhao Lei was trembling with fear, because this also meant that if Xiao Yuru failed the surgery, his hospital could close at any moment. More importantly, causing such a scandal would embarrass China in front of the world, and after that, the health bureau might never approve any related industries again.

Zhao Lei looked at Ye Qiu with difficulty, just about to refuse, when Ye Qiu casually draped an arm over his shoulder and calmly said to Duan Jijin, “You’re right, this is a wonderful opportunity for China’s medical aesthetics to step onto the world stage. We should let the world witness our talent. Here’s what we’ll do: both sides invite colleagues from the industry to come and observe, and let’s see who can bring in more peers and big names. Whoever loses donates fifty million to the Hope Project. What do you think?”

With that, Ye Qiu raised an eyebrow at Duan Jijin. “Professor Duan, you and Professor Park have worked in medical aesthetics for so many years—surely you don’t lack that much of a network, do you?”

The momentum Duan Jijin had built was instantly deflated by Ye Qiu.

He had indeed made a fortune in medical aesthetics over the years, and even if it wasn’t fifty million, he had at least thirty million. He was certain that Xiao Yuru couldn’t possibly solve such a global problem, but the thought of donating his entire fortune made him much less confident. Ye Qiu was truly cunning, and he knew exactly how much money Duan Jijin had.

At that moment, the phone that had been open all along crackled with Korean.

Duan Jijin seemed a bit stunned, and after a long pause, he frowned and said, “Professor Park says their hospital will provide thirty million.”

Ye Qiu held up his finger, “It’s fifty million.”

“Professor Duan, it’s just twenty million more. We can each chip in a bit,” Dr. Wu said dismissively, looking at Ye Qiu with disdain. “Besides, since they’re willing to do charity, why stop such kindness? I wonder if someone who brags so much actually has the financial strength—not fifty million, maybe not even five hundred thousand. People watch too many short videos and think the average income is over ten million.”

“I’ll cover Dr. Xiao’s share,” Liu Yiran said calmly, writing out a fifty million cash check, nearly dropping the jaws of everyone present.

She was truly magnificent.

Indeed, the perfect embodiment of a domineering female CEO. Fifty million, handed over without a second thought. Liu Yiran swept her gaze over the crowd with cool indifference. “I think there’s little mutual trust among us. The money should be kept by someone everyone trusts. Since this is for charity, I suggest the Linhai Charity Association manage the funds. Professor Duan, Dr. Wu, what do you think?”

Duan Jijin was quite embarrassed now.

With Liu Yiran putting up the money, the wager was essentially set.

“No, the conditions were put forward by your side. We want to add another clause, otherwise the bet doesn’t count,” Dr. Wu said, his face red, his earlier bravado gone.

Compared to being publicly humiliated by Liu Yiran, the thought of losing real money hurt far more. Reputation meant little; money was what mattered.

“Speak,” Ye Qiu said, looking at Dr. Wu as if he’d already anticipated this.

“We want to add that Xiao Yuru’s surgery must succeed.” After saying this, Dr. Wu seemed to regain his confidence. In his and his colleagues’ eyes, bones couldn’t possibly regrow—it was simply impossible.

“Alright, no problem,” Ye Qiu agreed without hesitation. His easy acquiescence made Dr. Wu feel as if he were dreaming, sensing something wasn’t quite right, but unable to pinpoint it. All he could do was stubbornly demand, “What about the timeframe? You can’t say ten or twenty years.”

“One week,” Ye Qiu replied, still relaxed. “That’s enough time for those Koreans to swim over from Mount Changbai, isn’t it?”

“No problem,” Duan Jijin recovered, managing to retain a touch of professorial dignity. “Then, one week from now, we’ll witness the miracle at Boss Zhao’s hospital.”

With Duan Jijin’s words, the entire medical aesthetics industry in Linhai was shaken. In less than an hour, the entire medical community in Linhai began discussing the upcoming surgery.

Countless scholars and professors began inquiring about Dr. Xiao’s background—where she graduated from, her academic qualifications, her career history, and whether she’d published any works.

On the internal medical forum, someone had just posted about the Linhai medical aesthetics wager, and within moments, thousands had replied. Critics claimed Xiao Yuru was simply seeking fame—after all, fame now equals money, regardless of what kind. Others accused her of being a practitioner of traditional medicine, saying that only those in traditional medicine dared boast so boldly.

What began as a wager in the medical aesthetics industry suddenly turned into a debate between traditional and Western medicine.

Far away in the capital, in the family of traditional medicine master Xuanyuan Datang, he was prescribing a formula for Ma Yunteng, the richest man in China, who had been overworking himself and was feeling drained. His disciple rushed in, clutching a phone, “Master, someone is leading an attack against traditional medicine!”

Xuanyuan Datang set down his brush, replying with calm indifference, “It’s a common occurrence; there’s no need to bother with such petty disputes.”

He had no interest in these matters. A healer’s heart is like that of a parent; traditional and Western medicine should complement each other. Yet, those who had studied for a few years refused to acknowledge their ancestors. Xuanyuan Datang had no desire to engage—Western doctors usually treated the poor, while the wealthy and prominent, those with impeccable backgrounds, queued up humbly for appointments with him.

Xuanyuan Datang would not stoop to argue with such people; even acknowledging them would be a loss.

“But Master, the post says this Dr. Xiao can make broken bones regenerate,” Lin Wan’er said angrily. “I think this is aimed at you—they know we have the ‘Bone Renewal Paste,’ which can make broken bones heal seamlessly, so they’re deliberately muddling the waters and tarnishing our reputation.”

Healing and regeneration are two entirely different concepts.

Xuanyuan Datang, who had been a doctor for half a century and possessed a collection of ancient texts, had never heard of broken bones truly regenerating.