"I think the way he used the knife just now, it reminded me of someone."
"Who?"
"Ghost Hand."
"Ghost Hand?!"
The young assistant was taken aback, apparently having never heard of this name.
"That was a fierce character who retired and washed his hands of the martial world over a decade ago."
The black market doctor lowered his voice, a hint of inexplicable excitement in his tone:
"At that time, he was the top, the most mysterious black market doctor in the entire East Capital, known as the reincarnated Hua Tuo, Ghost Hand miracle doctor."
"Legend has it that his hands could kill invisibly and also snatch the dead back from King Yan."
"Besides him, I canât think of anyone else in this world with such extraordinary skills."
.........
The corridor lights were dim, the walls worn.
Lin Fusheng lifted his head, his gaze stretching past the corridor, towards the reception room at the end.
The old TV on the wall was showing the noon news.
The footage was an aerial shot of a buildingâs roof terrace, riddled with craters, cordoned off like a battlefield ruins.
Two people were sitting on the sofa.
One was young and handsome, dressed in a simple black jacket, standing tall and concentrating on the screen.
The other wore black-framed glasses, mid-aged, scholarly, like a professor from a university.
When his gaze fell on the young man, the taut lines on Lin Fushengâs face softened a little.
"Uncle Lin."
Fang Cheng heard the footsteps, immediately turned his head, and stood up greeting.
The professor also stood up, an expectation in his eyes:
"Old Lin, did the surgery succeed?"
"The life is saved."
Lin Fusheng nodded, walked over to the water dispenser, and poured a cup of water:
"The lung was dealt with yesterday, the two shrapnel removed today are not an issue, as long as thereâs no infection later, should wake within three days."
"Thank you for your hard work."
The professor breathed a sigh of relief, sincerely thanked him:
"If it werenât for your help this time, we wouldnât have known who to turn to, the clues would have surely ended there."
Fang Cheng was quite surprised within his heart.
Initially, when the professor said heâd invited Lin Fusheng as the chief surgeon, he felt very surprised.
Unexpectedly, this Uncle Lin, who usually helped the neighborhood with bone-setting at the massage clinic, could actually perform such high-risk surgeries, and with skills surpassing professional surgeons.
"Stop with the flattery."
Lin Fusheng wasnât appreciative, after sipping the water, his tone turned cold:
"If it wasnât for you saying this person is related to Ah Cheng, I wouldnât have touched this mess."
The professor opened his mouth, didnât argue, just lowered his head with a bitter smile.
That smile harbored a sense of helplessness, and guilt from unresolved past accounts.
In the midst of conversation, Lin Fushengâs gaze fell on the television screen.
The subtitles below the screen scrolled, the host sat solemnly, reporting in a grave tone:
"...On the night of May 23, a vicious terrorist attack occurred at Silver Wing Building, Jinhai Road."
"During pursuit of the suspects, a military helicopter mistakenly crashed due to operational errors..."
"Currently, the military and police have jointly formed a task force, tightly sealing off the area, offering rewards for clues, hoping informed citizens actively provide information..."
Lin Fusheng stared at the wasteland on the TV for a few seconds.
Then he turned to look at the professor, his tone low, with obvious warning:
"Old Ye, I donât care what action you are planning, whether investigating those people, just stay away from Ah Cheng."
"Heâs a good boy, donât lead him down your path of no return."
The professor helplessly spread his hands, complaining inwardly.
Fang Cheng, this guy who blows up others easily, in your eyes is still a good boy, huh??
You should know, nowadays itâs not me leading him, Iâm clearly aiding him, listening to his orders in everything.
In front of this former old friend, the professor seemed completely humbled, lacking the usual composure and calm demeanor.
Fang Cheng stood aside, didnât chime in, but he also understood Lin Fushengâs intention.
Though Uncle Lin didnât inquire, he likely guessed seven or eight out of ten.
While pondering, Lin Fusheng suddenly turned and looked at him.
"Whatâve you been busy with lately? Havenât been to the shop for a while."
The aloofness on his face dissipated instantly, reverting to the amiable elder-next-door:
"Is it because you dislike my place being shabby, didnât pay you, so donât want to come for free work?"
"Of course not, Uncle Lin."
Fang Cheng chuckled, casually replied:
"Been quite busy with work lately, really canât spare any time."
"Workâs busy, but still remember to rest, donât overwork yourself."
Lin Fusheng didnât delve further, just patted his shoulder:
"Stop by when you have time. Iâm not a stingy boss, wonât force you to work for free. Without you around, feels like missing someone to talk to."
Pausing, he added a more heartfelt tone:
"Ah Cheng, donât let the massage and bone setting skills I taught you grow rusty, theyâre skills to earn a living and save people."
Fang Cheng felt a slight stir in his heart upon hearing this.
To be honest, he indeed hadnât visited Master Linâs massage clinic much recently.
Primarily because the underworld around Jiangbei had been calm, unlike last year when conflicts were constant, with gang wars rampant.
Fewer brawls meant fewer patients needing bone fracture or injury treatments.
Rather than idling in the store, better to train other skills at home, gaining more Experience Points.
But these words, of course, couldnât be spoken.
"I remember, Uncle Lin."
Fang Cheng replied with a smile:
"Coincidentally feeling a bit itchy-handed, wanting to crack some bones, Iâll pop by in a couple of days."
Saying so, he fished out car keys from his pocket:
"Letâs go, Iâll drive you back to Old Factory Street."
"No need, Iâll catch a cab back, donât delay your business..."
"Iâm heading home too, itâs along the way."
Fang Cheng insisted, taking Lin Fushengâs cloth bag from his hand, heading first to the door.
Lin Fusheng glanced at him, a hint of warmth in his eyes, didnât refuse anymore, just shook his head helplessly.
Before leaving, Fang Cheng looked back at the professor and gestured a phone sign.
The professor understood, lightly nodded, indicating he would watch the Fire Dragonâs situation and notify him immediately upon any news.
.........
A black SUV exited Jinshui Fish Market and merged into the main road traffic.
Outside the window, ads and skyscrapers continuously zipped by.
Inside the car was quiet, somewhat heavy.
Lin Fusheng sat in the passenger seat, slightly furrowed brow, seemingly pondering.
Fang Cheng held the steering wheel, gaze fixed ahead, didnât initiate conversation.
The engine rumbled lowly, the car cruised steadily forward.
When the car drove onto the cross-river bridge heading to Jiangbei District, Lin Fusheng finally broke the silence.
"Ah Cheng, are you... mixed up with him now?"
Lin Fusheng didnât name names, but Fang Cheng knew he referred to the professor.
"More or less."
Fang Cheng slightly adjusted the steering wheel, the car smoothly followed the lane.
"That person, very calculating, with a mind full of convolutions more complex than a maze."
Lin Fusheng leaned against the seatback, watching the scenery retreating outside, tone indifferent as if discussing someone unrelated:
"Back then, he and I argued numerous times due to differing philosophies. Staying too close to him, best keep an eye out."
"Thanks for the advice, Uncle Lin."
Fang Cheng kept his eyes forward, slowly said:
"But right now, heâs on my side, that part I trust."
Lin Fusheng sighed, didnât nag further, merely turned to look out the window, his voice lowering:
"Last nightâs incident, involved the military?"
"Just a personal vendetta, not as you think."
Fang Cheng spoke calmly, lightly bypassing the subject.
Lin Fusheng fell silent.
He knew Fang Cheng didnât want to divulge, so refrained from probing.
Everyone has their own paths, some matters arenât for an elder like him to intervene.
The cabin fell back into quiet, only the tiresâ rolling against the road echoed.
After a long time, Lin Fusheng seemed to decide something, suddenly asked:
"Ah Cheng, interested in hearing about your dadâs younger days?"
Fang Chengâs fingers faintly paused on the steering wheel, then nodded slightly:
"Alright."