Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, the one-month teaching period that Jiang Fei had set was over.
But the results weren’t quite as ideal as he’d hoped.
To put it plainly, the progress of his students was much slower than Jiang Fei had imagined. The doctors selected by the Traditional Chinese Medicine Association to receive his guidance were already quite accomplished in their field, which proved they were highly talented in medicine.
Yet even they struggled to grasp the medical knowledge and experience Jiang Fei was sharing—and that included the descendants of the three great millennia-old schools and the major medical families.
The pace of learning was at least a third slower than Jiang Fei had anticipated!
In other words, after this one month, Jiang Fei would still need at least another ten days to finish passing on everything he intended to teach.
And that was just the teaching part.
Once the teaching was done, it didn’t mean these people would have mastered all of Jiang Fei’s medical expertise.
It’s like when a teacher gives a lecture in school—the teacher finishes, the students take notes, but that doesn’t mean everyone understood everything or that they’ll all score perfect on the exam.
Even if these selected doctors spent the rest of their lives studying, pondering, and practicing what they’d learned, most of them would probably never reach a passing grade. Those who could eventually score seventy percent or higher would be few and far between.
It wasn’t that Jiang Fei was holding back, or that he wasn’t cut out to be a teacher.
It was simply that the medical knowledge he imparted was too profound and too incredible for ordinary people to grasp—even for these well-regarded physicians.
It was like handing a middle school textbook to an elementary school student—how many of them could actually understand it?
Among this group, fewer than three could barely keep up with Jiang Fei’s pace and meet his standards. And the one who satisfied him the most was, of course, Cui Xiuping.
This young prodigy was truly skilled, living up to his reputation as the heir of the Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles technique. Since he didn’t need to learn the Eight Divine Needle Methods, he’d managed to absorb most of Jiang Fei’s other teachings within the month. He’d already grasped quite a bit and could even apply some of it on the spot.
Jiang Fei believed that while Cui Xiuping might never reach his own level, given time, he could surpass his grandfather and achieve a standing comparable to the great medical sages of history.
After all, what Jiang Fei taught was essentially a chronicle of TCM history—a collection of the finest wisdom from generations of masters. If someone could truly integrate it all, even mastering seventy or eighty percent of it would be remarkable.
Seeing how well Cui Xiuping had absorbed the lessons, Jiang Fei was quite pleased.
This young man, who favored wearing long robes, hadn’t made the best first impression. But as they got to know each other, Jiang Fei discovered he was actually a decent fellow—good character, solid medical ethics, and soon-to-be excellent skills. Jiang Fei felt confident handing over the presidency of the TCM Association to him, trusting that he wouldn’t let the field down.
“Well done. You’ve grasped the fundamental methods and techniques of surgical procedures. The only thing you lack is experience, which you’ll build up through actual practice. So you don’t need to come to my lectures tomorrow,” Jiang Fei announced, watching as Cui Xiuping carefully dressed the wound of a patient who’d accidentally stepped on glass and nearly severed their Achilles tendon.
And it was true.
Jiang Fei had taught everything he needed to, and Cui Xiuping had absorbed most of it. From now on, it was up to him to accumulate hands-on experience and refine his skills through practice.
Cui Xiuping instructed the nurse to handle the remaining finishing touches, then washed his hands, took off his mask, and smiled. “I think I’ll pass on that. Since you’ve extended the lessons by ten days, I might as well see them through. This is a rare opportunity—probably a one-time thing. Once you resign, getting you to come back and teach again would be next to impossible.”
“The thing is, you won’t get much more out of sitting through more lectures. Listening won’t boost your practical experience. If you really want to catch up to me in medical skill, you need to treat more patients. Just sitting in class won’t get you there,” Jiang Fei said.
Cui Xiuping just smiled, his expression and eyes making his stance clear.
He was going to attend the remaining ten days of lectures, no matter what.
“Suit yourself.” Jiang Fei shook his head helplessly and sighed. “If every one of these selected doctors could learn as fast as you, I wouldn’t need to extend by ten days—I’d be done by now.”
Cui Xiuping shrugged it off. “Just hang in there a little longer. Only ten days left. I’m guessing that after those ten days, you’re officially going to throw in the towel and step down as president of the TCM Association, right?”
He paused mid-sentence.
Then he gave Jiang Fei an odd look, as if he wanted to say something but was holding back.
Jiang Fei rolled his eyes. “Since when did you get all shy and hesitant? Just spit it out.”
Cui Xiuping chuckled. “Alright then, I’ll ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“Jiang Fei, you’ve said that for things like surgery, acupuncture, and massage, having a good lineage and a great teacher is important. But there’s another crucial factor: hands-on experience! Every medical skill requires a mountain of clinical practice to build up, little by little, to increase proficiency… You and I are about the same age, and I think I’ve got as much clinical experience as anyone could at this stage. Even if I barely rested and spent every waking moment seeing patients, I couldn’t rack up much more than I already have. But your proficiency in all these medical techniques is on another level—even my grandfather admits he can’t compare… How did you do it?” Cui Xiuping stared at Jiang Fei with wide, curious eyes.
Jiang Fei raised an eyebrow and replied coolly, with a hint of arrogance: “Haven’t you heard of the concept of genius? For ordinary folks like you, the only way to improve proficiency is through tons of clinical experience. For me? Not so much.”
“Come on, I’m being serious,” Cui Xiuping said earnestly.
“Serious, my foot! I’m serious too!” Jiang Fei shot back with a straight face.
Defeated, Cui Xiuping sighed. “Fine. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. I’ll just chalk it up to you being… a genius! Someone who can simulate and practice medical techniques in their head without real-world trials, and somehow become an expert.”
“Exactly right.”
Jiang Fei thought to himself: Do I really need to tell you that I don’t even need to imagine or simulate—I just pile up experience points to increase my proficiency and level up?
With this game system, Jiang Fei was indeed more gifted than any so-called genius could ever be.
Whether in medicine, cooking, music, or martial arts—it was all the same.
By the time they left the Beijing Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, it was already 5:30 PM.
This was rush hour, when white-collar workers flooded out of offices, causing the worst traffic jams in any major city. Buses and subways were packed to the brim too.
But just as Jiang Fei and Cui Xiuping were about to part ways, a red Ferrari came screeching to a halt with a flashy drift-and-tailspin maneuver, stopping barely a meter in front of Jiang Fei.
Jiang Fei furrowed his brow briefly, then relaxed.
“Master Jiang! I heard you’ve been hanging around Beijing. Took me a while to track you down!” The door swung open, and out stepped a young man with a flippant, roguish air about him—the very picture of a spoiled playboy.
At this hour and with that particular greeting of “Master Jiang,” there was only one person it could be: Su Mengnan, one of the well-known “Four Young Masters of Beijing.”
“What do you want with me?” Jiang Fei asked, none too pleased.
“Just wanted to catch up and express my admiration and respect for you, Master Jiang!” Su Mengnan rubbed his hands together with a nervous grin.
This was a young man notorious for his arrogance and reckless behavior, but aside from Liu Yunduo, Jiang Fei was the only person who could make him behave so meekly.
“I don’t think we have much to catch up on. If you don’t have any real business with me, I’ll be on my way,” Jiang Fei said with a smile.
“Wait!” Su Mengnan panicked a little, raising his hands in a pleading gesture. “I really do have something important to discuss with you, Master Jiang!”
Cui Xiuping, standing nearby, recognized Su Mengnan as the notorious wastrel he was. Having grown up in Beijing himself, and being the eldest grandson of the Cui family’s main line, Cui Xiuping was well-acquainted with the city’s various family dynamics and the circles of rich young heirs.
Back when Jiang Fei and Su Mengnan first crossed paths and got into a physical altercation, Cui Xiuping had even offered to mediate on Jiang Fei’s behalf.
But after the last incident, Cui Xiuping wasn’t worried about Su Mengnan causing trouble for Jiang Fei anymore. So he said, “You two take your time talking. I’ll head off first. There are still some matters at the TCM Association waiting for me…”
Jiang Fei nodded, watched Cui Xiuping leave, then turned back to Su Mengnan. “Alright, what’s this about? Spit it out…”
