Volume One, Chapter Seventy-Five: I Promise It Will Be Exhilarating

With a loud bang, Fu Yanting nearly tumbled onto the small bed beside him. He steadied himself and glanced deeply at the massive needle in Yu Mo’s hand, still unable to believe what he was seeing.

“Yu Mo, are you joking?” he stammered.

A needle that thick, plunged into the body, would be fatal.

Yu Mo grinned with satisfaction, catching the unmistakable fear in his eyes.

“Of course I’m joking,” she replied.

Fu Yanting let out a long breath, but before he could even finish exhaling, Yu Mo’s voice rang out again.

“Insert from the Great Vertebra point and exit from the Lumbar Transport point. I guarantee you’ll feel invigorated by the end.”

She pointed at the wire on the side. “This is to keep you from moving around. It’ll hold you in place.”

“Um… Mo Mo, I suddenly remembered I have some matters to attend to. Can we reschedule the treatment for another day?” Fu Yanting, as if he’d seen a ghost, bolted out of the room in a panic. He barely managed a greeting to Old Master Yu before fleeing the house.

Yu Mo laughed so hard she nearly doubled over, while Old Master Yu entered the room.

His hands were clasped behind his back, his gaze falling on the python needle in Yu Mo’s hand. He asked, puzzled, “Mo Mo, why did you bring that out? Someone suffering from cervical or lumbar disease?”

Yu Mo smiled and replied, “No, just took it out to play with.”

With a chuckle, she put the needle away.

After half a month of treatment, Han Yue’s condition had improved significantly. With the attentive care of Douzi and Huguo, she could now raise her arms high and had regained feeling in her legs, able to move them slightly.

All of these were promising signs.

Yu Mo called Zhuang Zhizhi with the good news.

Zhuang Zhizhi was genuinely happy for Han Yue, happier than for his own recovery.

“Yu Mo, thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough,” he said, tears streaming down his face. Cheng Tai took out a handkerchief to wipe his tears.

It was only the second time Cheng Tai had seen Zhuang Zhizhi cry—the first had been at Zhuang Xiaoyan’s funeral.

Yu Mo smiled gently. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”

She looked at her master, her words sincere.

During these days, Han Yue had been dreaming repeatedly of the car accident seventeen years ago.

A deep sense of guilt from the depths of her heart left her sleepless night after night.

“Yu Mo, I’d like to see Mr. Zhuang.”

The last time she’d seen him, she’d heard his apology.

Now, thinking back, Han Yue felt she was the one unworthy—she should have been the one to say sorry.

At the Zhuang family villa—

Yu Mo had just helped Han Yue out of the car when Cheng Tai came up to greet them.

He bowed respectfully to the two women. “This way, please.”

Han Yue saw Zhuang Zhizhi again, and her tears would not stop.

“Ah Zhi,” she whispered, reaching out to hold his slender hand and bringing it gently to her lips for a soft kiss.

In a trembling voice, she murmured, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

A faint, gentle smile appeared on Zhuang Zhizhi’s face as he tried to comfort her in a low voice.

“It’s all in the past, Han Yue. Everything will be all right.”

She nodded through her tears.

When Han Yue was finally calm, she lifted her head and studied Zhuang Zhizhi’s home.

“You never married?” she asked.

Zhuang Zhizhi replied, “No.”

Over the years, despite his health, many women had wanted to marry him for his wealth, and some had truly cared for him. But the one who remained in his heart was always Han Yue.

If it was not her, he would rather spend his life alone.

Han Yue lowered her gaze, her eyes growing moist once more.

“Is it because of me?” she whispered.

With Zhuang Zhizhi’s status, even with his disability, he would never lack for women. If he wished, plenty would have flocked to him.

“Because none of them are as beautiful as the girl in my memory—the one in a white plaid dress that summer. She has lived in my heart ever since, and there’s no room for anyone else.”

As he spoke, Zhuang Zhizhi gently squeezed Han Yue’s hand.

Their feelings were now understood without words. Cheng Tai and Yu Mo quietly slipped out, leaving the two of them to talk about the past and the present.

When Yu Mo took Han Yue home later, Douzi came rushing up with joy.

He paused in surprise, seeing a happiness on Han Yue’s face he’d never seen before. He turned to Yu Mo.

Yu Mo’s tone was filled with irrepressible joy as she spoke.

“Douzi, Master is going to get married.”

“Married? To whom?” Douzi was bewildered, scratching his head as he looked at Huguo, who had just come over.

A thought seemed to dawn on Huguo. “Yu Mo, is Master marrying Mr. Zhuang?”

Yu Mo laughed. “Huguo is always the clever one.”

Douzi, a little indignant, protested, “I’m clever too, you know.”

Yu Mo then recounted to them, in brief, the story of how her master and Zhuang Zhizhi met, grew close, and fell in love.

Zhuang Zhizhi and Han Yue had first met in college.

The moment he saw her, he fell in love and began his pursuit.

But Han Yue was hard to win over—it took him two years, and still she hadn’t agreed.

As graduation approached, Zhuang Zhizhi, desperate to confess his feelings, accidentally fell from a third-floor window to the ground.

Fortunately, it was winter and a heavy snow had just fallen—a thick pile lay beneath the window.

He climbed out of the snow, a genuine snowman, and when Han Yue saw him, she bent over with laughter. That was the beginning of their relationship.

Their love lasted nine years, always stable, filled with beautiful memories.

When Zhuang Zhizhi turned thirty-four, he was elected president of the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce. Just as he was about to share the good news and propose to Han Yue, tragedy struck—a car accident.

Everything changed. Zhuang Zhizhi spent three days in a coma and lost his position as chairman.

His sister’s death and Han Yue’s departure hit him hard.

The people he loved most in the world were gone. There seemed to be no meaning left for him.

If not for the presence of the eleven-year-old Mu Shaozhou and three-year-old Mu Di, he might have followed his sister.

But, thankfully, they both endured all these years. In their hearts, they still held on to each other.

Seventeen years had passed, yet their feelings had only deepened.

By the time Yu Mo finished the story, her face was streaked with tears.

Douzi wept uncontrollably as well. “Master, Mr. Zhuang, Mr. Zhuang’s sister, and her two children—they’re all so pitiful… boo hoo…”

He wiped his eyes and turned to Huguo. “Huguo, hurry up and find out where the second hundred-year-old wild Purple Lingzhi is. Even if I have to risk my life, I’ll get it to cure Mr. Zhuang, so he and Master can grow old together, never part… boo hoo…”

Though Huguo wasn’t crying as hard as Douzi, his eyes were red.

He glanced at Yu Mo, troubled.

A second wild purple lingzhi of a hundred years was a rare treasure, almost impossible to find.

Yu Mo understood his dilemma, but didn’t want to shatter Douzi’s hope.

She patted Huguo’s shoulder, her tone earnest. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

Her look made it clear: don’t force yourself; even if you can’t find it, it’s not your fault.

Huguo nodded.

That evening, Yu Mo planned to make dumplings with her master and two disciples. She had just taken out the flour when her phone rang.

It was her mother, but when she answered, it was not her mother’s voice on the other end.

A strange woman spoke, “Are you Mrs. Xiao Lin’s daughter? I’m a nurse at the hospital. Mrs. Xiao’s condition has worsened. Please come as soon as you can.”