Wang Haoran stood alone on the rooftop, letting the cool night wind brush past his face as he looked down at the city lights spreading out in all directions like a sea of stars. It had been several minutes since Feng Rao had left, and the rooftop had grown quiet once more.
He glanced down at his slightly sore hands, letting out a low sigh that carried both resignation and amusent. Deep down, he reminded himself it would be wise to avoid spending ti alone with Feng Rao in the future. This ti, it was just his hands that got worn out—but next ti? Who knew what might happen.
After standing there for a while longer, he turned away from the railing and headed toward the stairwell. Not long after, he stepped onto the hospital floor where Yan Yuntian’s ward was located.
Just as his shoes touched the polished tiles of the corridor, the restroom door a few steps away creaked open, and a slim figure stepped out—it was Yun Churan.
She cast him a glance, her expression calm and indifferent, then turned away and made her way toward Yan Yuntian’s ward without sparing another word.
Wang Haoran caught up in a few steps and fell into stride beside her, his voice low and casual. “Even sothing as important as marriage is decided for you by soone else. Don’t you think that’s a little… pathetic?”
His words clearly carried more than surface aning.
Yun Churan’s footsteps paused for just a second before she continued walking, her voice smooth as she replied, “As the Young Master of Fengxi Mountain, Yan Yuntian is noble in status and exceptional in talent. He’s a worthy match. Why should I find it pathetic?”
She had already noticed Wang Haoran’s hostility toward Yan Yuntian back in the ward. It didn’t take much to guess that he was trying to drive a wedge between her and her fiancé. As Yan Yuntian’s fiancée, her stance was naturally to defend her betrothed.
“Talented he may be,” Wang Haoran said with a slow smile, “but he can’t give you happiness.”
Yun Churan didn’t care about so-called happiness. She had no feelings for Yan Yuntian to begin with. But from a position of duty and appearance, she couldn’t admit that, so she replied flatly, “That’s none of your concern. I’ll find happiness on my own.”
Wang Haoran tilted his head slightly, flashing a grin. “You misunderstood . I ant the physical part, not emotional.”
Yun Churan froze, the aning registering, and her cheeks imdiately flushed with sha and fury. “You scoundrel. Say one more indecent word and I won’t be polite with you.”
“I’m only giving you a kind reminder,” Wang Haoran said, still smiling as if it was all for her own good. “Don’t believe if you want, but if you really go through with the marriage, you’ll regret it when it’s too late.”
“Utter nonsense.” She flung the words over her shoulder like a blade, her patience spent. Picking up her pace, she quickly entered the ward and left him behind.
Wang Haoran chuckled softly to himself and strolled along unhurriedly.
Inside, Feng Xuansu saw him return and stepped forward, her voice low and concerned. “It’s getting late. Do you want to head back and rest?”
“No rush. I’ll stay a bit longer,” Wang Haoran smiled. A good show was about to begin—leaving now would be far too wasteful.
Roughly ten minutes later, Yu Ning led Bian Suwen into the ward.
Yan Feipeng and Feng Rao approached with polite smiles and exchanged a few words of greeting.
Bian Suwen responded with the barest nods, her gaze drifting toward Wang Haoran before glancing away as if they were strangers.
They had agreed beforehand to act unfamiliar.
“Divine Doctor, here’s my son’s dical report and scan results,” Yan Feipeng said as he handed over a thick stack of papers and X-rays. “Would you like to review them?”
Bian Suwen leafed through the docunts, her elegant brows slowly furrowing. Her face darkened with each passing second.
Yan Feipeng noticed the shift in her expression and grew nervous. “Is there a problem?”
“Your son’s condition is… very serious,” she said with a solemn expression.
“But the doctors said he’d recover in a few months and walk normally. How could it be that bad?” Yan Feipeng frowned.
“If all you want is for him to walk, then yes, the situation isn’t grave. But if you want him to return to his forr martial strength…” Her voice trailed off.
Yan Yuntian’s face paled. “Divine Doctor, are you saying this injury could cripple my cultivation?”
“Yes,” Bian Suwen said bluntly. “Even with proper healing, you’ll be lucky to retain thirty percent of your original combat power.”
Yan Yuntian’s already ashen face turned ghostly white.
Because of his latent ailnt, his cultivation had already stagnated. Just recently, Ning Aoxue had co knocking and humiliated him before everyone.
Even so, his existing strength still ranked him among the top martial prodigies in the hidden martial world.
But if that was slashed by seventy percent, he’d be little more than a washed-up failure.
Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.
“Can it be cured?” he asked, his voice tight with desperation.
“There’s a way,” Bian Suwen said, pausing halfway.
Yan Yuntian’s breath hitched.
“If you have sothing to say, just say it,” Yan Feipeng urged.
“To cure your son completely, I’ll need several extrely rare herbs,” Bian Suwen said calmly. “All of them are part of Yixian Valley’s heirloom vault.”
Yan Feipeng understood the hint imdiately. Puffing out his chest, he said confidently, “Na your price.”
Bian Suwen extended a single finger.
“One billion? That’s fine,” Yan Feipeng agreed without hesitation.
Though hefty, it wasn’t beyond his ans.
But Bian Suwen shook her head.
“Ten billion?” he guessed, brows beginning to draw together.
She shook her head again.
“A hundred billion is pushing it,” he muttered, his tone no longer pleased.
“It’s one trillion,” Bian Suwen said flatly, no longer playing the guessing ga.
“One… trillion?!” Yan Feipeng’s expression contorted, muscles in his face twitching.
“That’s right. Not a single coin less,” she replied with zero room for negotiation.
Yan Feipeng hesitated.
He had the money, but paying it felt like carving out a chunk of his own flesh.
Seeing his long silence, Bian Suwen stood to leave. “There are other Divine Doctors in this world. You’re free to seek soone else.”
Feng Rao didn’t dare say a word. She was afraid of upsetting Wang Haoran, so she stayed quiet about the treatnt negotiations.
“Wait!” Yan Feipeng finally called out.
In the hidden martial world, no dical faction was more renowned than Yixian Valley. And Bian Suwen wasn’t just any healer—she was its current Master. Who could possibly outdo her?
If they didn’t go to her, who else could they turn to?
“One trillion it is,” Yan Feipeng gritted. “But I don’t have that much in cash. I’ll pay with assets.”
“No problem,” Bian Suwen said, smiling as she turned back.
She walked over to the bedside and looked down at Yan Yuntian. “I’ll need to examine you more thoroughly to better understand your condition.”
Yan Yuntian nodded. “Father, everyone else, please give us so privacy.”
He was terrified that his hidden ailnt would be exposed and wanted to be alone with Bian Suwen.
“No need for that. I’ll use Thread Pulse Diagnosis,” she said coolly.
As she spoke, she pulled out her tools and sat down on a stool beside the bed. With a flick of her fingers, a slender silk thread shot forward and wrapped around Yan Yuntian’s wrist.
Bian Suwen closed her eyes, her fair fingers resting lightly against the tension of the thread as she listened through the subtle vibrations of his pulse.
After several dozen seconds, she slowly opened her eyes, her face grave.
Yan Yuntian felt a sinking dread in his gut. “Divine Doctor… if there’s anything wrong, please tell privately.”
“Whatever it is, just say it,” Yan Feipeng pressed, anxious for his son’s condition.
“My fiancé’s situation—how serious is it really?” Yun Churan added, her voice filled with concern.
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