In a rather lavish, small meeting room, Jiang Fei and Prince Charles sat facing each other. Although Jiang Fei wasn’t exactly a top-tier scholar, his English had always been quite decent—especially his spoken English. He had no trouble communicating at all, which was why he’d felt confident enough to break away from the other members of the Seven Kills Group over the past few days and explore London on his own.
So now, with just the two of them alone together, there was no need for a translator or any other assistance.
But after they entered and the lobby manager bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him, the pair surprisingly fell into silence.
Neither spoke. They simply sat there, eyes fixed on each other, studying one another. The atmosphere was a bit strange—almost like that saying: “Silence speaks louder than words.”
Prince Charles, after all, was of noble birth and accustomed to speaking with the highest leaders of nations around the world. His presence and bearing were far from ordinary, and he wasn’t the type to be intimidated by anyone.
As for Jiang Fei—step by step, he’d made his way to where he was today. He’d founded Jiang’s Pharmaceutical Company, become the president of the Traditional Chinese Medicine Association, pushed his physical limits to superhuman levels, defeated the Japanese swordmaster Yanagida Munemune, and brought down the Nether organization. While these achievements might not have put him on equal footing with a prince in terms of social status, in Jiang Fei’s heart, it didn’t matter whether it was a prince or even Prince Charles’s grandmother—the reigning Queen of the British Empire—coming to see him. He wouldn’t find it strange, nor would he feel the least bit constrained.
In other words, both of these men were exceptionally accomplished individuals with remarkably broad perspectives.
After about a minute of waiting, Prince Charles finally found he couldn’t keep the silence going any longer. He broke it with a smile. “Mr. Jiang Fei, aren’t you going to speak first?”
“I was waiting for you to speak,” Jiang Fei replied matter-of-factly. You’re the one who came looking for me, who called me into this meeting room. If you’re not going to talk, why should I have to start?
“Fair enough.” Prince Charles was a bit taken aback.
This was probably the first time in his life as first in line to the throne that he’d been outmaneuvered like this. The other party wouldn’t even speak first—this guy was putting on more airs than the prince himself!
“Then do you know why I asked to see you this time?” the prince asked again.
Jiang Fei shook his head.
Charles smiled at that. “I suppose that’s to be expected. With all the roles you play and everything you’ve been up to lately, if someone came looking for you, there’d be so many possible reasons that it’d be impossible to guess exactly what they wanted.”
“Oh? I have too many roles and I’ve done too many things? Like what, for instance?” Jiang Fei asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Prince Charles didn’t dodge the question or speak in circles. He laid it all out directly: “For instance, Mr. Jiang, you’re still quite young, yet you’ve already become a leading figure in the ancient medical practice of Traditional Chinese Medicine and taken over as president of the TCM Association. Or how you’ve quietly reached the pinnacle of piano performance—your skill is already good enough to hold a concert at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. Or more recently, how you and your teammates took down a notorious assassin organization at the Brown Hotel… With all these identities and achievements, any one of them would be reason enough for me to seek you out.”
This prince really does know a lot. He came prepared, Jiang Fei thought to himself.
He hadn’t spoken first because he wanted to see just how much Prince Charles knew about him—and what his real purpose was in coming.
Just as he’d expected, the prince knew everything he should know. It seemed that even the UK’s elite special forces unit, the Sea Lions, fell under royal oversight, not just government control.
Since they were already speaking openly, Jiang Fei saw no point in beating around the bush. He asked, “Since you know so much, Prince, why don’t you just say it directly? What do you need to discuss with me? Is it about Traditional Chinese Medicine? Or the recent Nether incident? I doubt it’s about piano performance, anyway.”
After all, in the decadent capitalist West, everyone pursued style and sophistication. The wealthy placed great importance on artistic and spiritual pursuits like piano and violin, but a prince obviously wouldn’t make a special trip in person for something like that.
Even if Prince Charles really did love the piano and wanted to hear Jiang Fei play, at most he’d send someone with an invitation—there’d be no need to go through all this trouble.
“As for the Nether incident—you helped the Sea Lions wipe out a notorious international assassin organization here in London. That’s nothing but good for the British Empire. If I were to see you, it would be to thank you,” Prince Charles said.
Jiang Fei raised an eyebrow. “So that means it’s about Traditional Chinese Medicine?”
Prince Charles nodded. “Exactly!”
Jiang Fei fell silent for a moment.
He hadn’t expected Prince Charles to seek him out specifically over TCM—that genuinely caught him off guard. In his mind, the most likely reason would have been the Nether incident from a few days ago, or perhaps the fact that he’d killed a Vatican ascetic.
The Vatican wasn’t exactly a pushover, and the death of an ascetic in London was no small matter.
“What about TCM, exactly?” Jiang Fei asked after giving Prince Charles a once-over.
Could it be that Prince Charles had some difficult-to-treat condition—like kidney deficiency or something—that Western medicine had failed to cure despite consulting numerous famous doctors? Maybe he’d heard that TCM had unique, specialized treatments in this area, and since Jiang Fei was in London, he wanted to ask for a consultation?
Using the “inspection” method from the four diagnostic techniques—looking, listening, asking, and feeling the pulse—Jiang Fei examined the prince’s complexion and said, “Your complexion is rosy, Prince, and your ears are clear. You don’t seem to have any serious illness. The only thing is that the color around your brow is a bit dull, which suggests your stomach and large intestine health are slightly off. But it’s nothing major—very easy to treat.”
“You misunderstand,” Charles shook his head. “I’m not asking you to treat me.”
“Then is it someone important to you that needs my medical attention?” Jiang Fei asked in surprise.
He didn’t bring up the matter of fees. He’d long heard from Old Divine Doctor Cui that, among international leaders, TCM actually carried significant weight. Several highly respected senior TCM practitioners from the association had traveled abroad to treat various ailments for important foreign leaders—conditions that TCM was particularly skilled at addressing.
Usually, these “house calls” were made free of charge. At most, the leaders would offer some small token of appreciation.
Jiang Fei figured it would be the same here. Having a prince from a decadent capitalist nation personally come to ask for his help was quite an honor in itself—he could probably forgo the consultation fee.
But to his surprise, Charles shook his head again. “No, that’s not it either.”
Jiang Fei’s eyes widened.
After a long pause, Charles finally looked at Jiang Fei with a knowing smile and said, “I came to help you promote Traditional Chinese Medicine in our country!”
Whoa!
Jiang Fei’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily. Even he couldn’t remain completely composed at that statement. But he quickly regained his composure.
Watching Jiang Fei’s expression shift, Charles more or less guessed what he was thinking and shook his head with a helpless smile. “If I said that, would you believe me?”
Jiang Fei didn’t answer directly. Instead, he countered, “Do you think I should?”
“…”
Charles was momentarily speechless. After thinking for a moment, he replied with a slightly bitter smile, “It does seem like there’s no reason to believe me. After all, Professor Holder of our Royal College of Medicine—who was awarded a royal medal—was held for a long time because of you and almost didn’t make it back to the country. And both our Ministry of Health and the Royal College of Medicine are firmly pro-Western medicine. So I really don’t seem to have any good reason to help you or Traditional Chinese Medicine.”
Jiang Fei shrugged. “Since you’re so clear on all that, Prince, why don’t we skip the runaround and get straight to your real intention?”
“But… that is my real intention!” Prince Charles’s face was now completely devoid of its earlier smile. He wasn’t putting on any charm or projecting a folksy image—he simply stared at Jiang Fei with utmost seriousness, enunciating every word.
“I genuinely want to help you promote TCM in our country. This doesn’t represent any government stance, nor does it represent the royal family’s position. This is purely my personal, private initiative. I’ll do everything within my power to support and assist you in advancing Traditional Chinese Medicine.”
Jiang Fei frowned. “Prince, that’s not a very funny joke.”
Prince Charles frowned back, fixing his gaze on Jiang Fei. “Do you really think I’m joking?”
Being stared down by such a handsome, elegant man was a bit intense. Jiang Fei widened his eyes, trying to read any hint of deception in the prince’s expression—but in the end, he found nothing.
Emotionally, he was a hundred percent certain this couldn’t be true. It seemed completely implausible. But rationally, his instincts told him that Charles appeared to be perfectly serious—this didn’t seem like a joke at all.
In fact, Jiang Fei could even sense, quite acutely, that the prince bore no ill intent whatsoever. Quite the opposite—he came with goodwill!
It really seemed like he genuinely wanted to help Jiang Fei—and Traditional Chinese Medicine.
As a master martial artist, his intuition wasn’t baseless guesswork; it was remarkably accurate. Especially since he’d studied the Diagram of Heavenly Secrets and learned the art of Qimen Dunjia, his instincts were sharper than most.
But this didn’t make any sense!
Why on earth would he do this?
Left with no choice, Jiang Fei asked, somewhat helplessly, “I don’t think you’re joking. But I need to know—why are you doing this?”
Prince Charles smiled.
“You’re a very smart man,” Charles remarked with admiration. “No wonder Old Divine Doctor Cui holds you in such high regard despite your youth, entrusting you with the leadership of the TCM Association—even saying that Traditional Chinese Medicine might just see its revival through you.”
“Old Divine Doctor Cui?” Jiang Fei was startled at the name at first, but his mind quickly put the pieces together. “Did you know ‘Ghost-Hand’ Old Divine Doctor Cui before this?”
“Who do you think saved my life back then?” Charles said with a smile.
Now Jiang Fei understood the whole picture.
“Old Divine Doctor Cui saved your life with his medical skills, so you’ve owed him a debt of gratitude all this time. You’ve wanted to repay him somehow, within your means, but Old Divine Doctor Cui is a man of strict self-discipline—healing the sick is simply his duty, and he never asks for anything in return. So you could never find a way to settle that debt. This time, you’re helping me—helping Traditional Chinese Medicine—as a way to repay him for saving your life. Am I right?” Jiang Fei asked.
“You really are a sharp one,” Charles nodded. “Yes, you’ve basically got it right. But there’s one more thing you haven’t mentioned.”
“What’s that?”
“Respect!” Charles said solemnly. “I’ve always held Traditional Chinese Medicine in high regard. I think it’s a remarkable, beneficial field of medicine for humanity. What Professor Holder from the Royal College of Medicine did last time—I had no knowledge of it at all. I don’t believe Western medicine should be the only option in this world. TCM deserves to be promoted as well. So as long as it’s within my ability, I want to do my small part.”
“Thank you.” Jiang Fei’s eyes were complex as he spoke those two words.
He could see the sincerity in Charles’s eyes. This prince was no simpleton, nor was he naive—but on this matter, he clearly bore no malice, nor was he playing any games.
Meanwhile, Jiang Fei himself had been a bit petty-minded just now, judging a gentleman’s heart with a rogue’s measure.
“No need to thank me—I can actually do only so much,” Prince Charles said with a smile.
“Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll arrange a lecture for you at the Royal College of Medicine. You’ll be the speaker, covering the basics of Traditional Chinese Medicine. It won’t just be journalists and students attending—I’ll also make sure some prominent Western medical experts and doctors are present. They’ll raise questions, and you’ll need to answer them as best you can. How far this promotes TCM and how deep an impression it leaves will ultimately depend on you—on your practical demonstration.”
“Also, you can put together a delegation of TCM practitioners. I’ll arrange for you to hold consultation sessions at some major hospitals—that’ll also help spread TCM in the West. Don’t worry—this is similar to when the Western medical delegation visited China last time. I won’t set up any Western doctors to challenge you or cause trouble. It’ll be purely consultations—just seeing and treating patients.”
Prince Charles laid out his carefully prepared plans in detail, and Jiang Fei listened just as attentively.
Even though he’d long been thinking of stepping down as president of the TCM Association, he hadn’t resigned yet. And even if he had, he’d never let such a golden opportunity for TCM’s development and promotion slip through his fingers.
Finally, Jiang Fei said a little sheepishly, “I do have one more request, if I may.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’d like to open a Traditional Chinese Medicine clinic in London.”
Prince Charles paused briefly, then quickly asked, “Jiang’s TCM Clinic?”
Jiang Fei nodded.
Charles chuckled. “Of course—I’ve heard about your Jiang’s Clinic long ago!”
