Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

As night fell, Cang Tianci sat alone in the storage room, but instead of immediately beginning his studies as usual, he felt a profound sense of powerlessness for the first time. He hadn't done anything wrong; he had always tried to help others and restrain himself—why had he ended up in this situation?

He activated the Hidden Dragon Technique, but could not calm the turmoil in his heart. It was no longer a simple feeling of grievance or anger, but a sense of bewilderment at the treacherous nature of human hearts and the complexities of the world. Outside the window, the night was as dark as ink, with only a dim yellow glow from the distant streetlights casting a long, lonely shadow on the wall.

Just as his mind was in its most turbulent moment, his gaze inadvertently fell upon the indigo-blue cloth bag on the corner of the table. His master Chen Jiren's admonition when he gifted him the needles echoed in his ears: "Though the silver needles are small, they weigh more than a thousand pounds. A single inch deep piercing them can be a matter of life and death. Be careful! Be careful!"

In an instant, he realized.

My master had long seen through it all: the burden of fame ultimately stems from the lightness of one's actions. Although I had previously realized the problem, I still harbored a trace of vanity in "enjoying being needed," and failed to completely eliminate the hidden danger. True "prudence" is not about selectively helping, but about knowing when to temporarily "stop" when the boundaries of one's abilities are unclear and the environment is complex.

When faced with slander, a true "strong person" is not only someone with a clear conscience, but also someone with the wisdom to break the deadlock and the strength to prove themselves.

Having grasped this point, his confusion vanished. The energy of the dormant dragon suddenly became condensed and powerful, as if it had washed away the last trace of superficiality, becoming more refined and introspective.

The next day, at a face-to-face clarification meeting arranged by the school, Dr. Jia, the "old Chinese medicine doctor" that Zhao Xiaohu had found, indeed insisted that Zhang Hao's wrist was "treated with non-standard bone-setting massage techniques, resulting in secondary damage to the tendons and aggravation of blood and qi stagnation," which is why he was brought to him for bone-setting and acupuncture treatment.

In response to the accusations, Cang Tianci reiterated the facts: "I did not provide any treatment, I only suggested ice packs and seeking medical attention."

Seeing that Cang Tianci couldn't say anything, Dr. Jia stroked his sparse beard with a smug look and said loudly, "Young man, being stubborn won't help. Your blood and qi are flowing in the wrong direction, and your meridians are blocked. The fact that your wrist is swollen like this is solid proof. It must be because your technique was too rough and messed up your meridians."

Cang Tianci felt a slight pause in the Hidden Dragon Qi, and a surge of anger rushed to his chest. But he took a deep breath, circulated the Hidden Dragon Technique, and forcefully suppressed the fire into his dantian. After a few breaths, his emotions returned to calm, and his mind became clear. He took in everything before him—the panicked Zhang Hao, the arrogant fake TCM doctor, the anxious teacher, and the angry parents—yet it was like viewing flowers in a mirror or the moon's reflection in water, without causing any ripples.

The extreme calmness brought by the Hidden Dragon Technique allowed him to clearly perceive every gap in the other person's words. He keenly noticed that the other person repeatedly emphasized "qi and blood" and "meridians," but was vague about the specific structures of damage, and their words were mostly empty threats. More importantly, the other person completely ignored the most basic principles of injury treatment.

His sharp gaze met Dr. Jia's as he spoke, "Sir, I have three questions I'd like to ask: First, you said my technique was 'rough.' But the first lesson my master taught me was 'tendons prefer gentleness to force.' A truly damaging technique involves forceful twisting or excessive stretching, resulting in a cracking sound or excruciating pain from a sudden misalignment of the tendons and bones. I only lightly examined you that day; it wasn't even a matter of 'technique,' so how could it be 'rough'? Zhang Hao, when I pressed your wrist, did you experience that excruciating pain, like your bones were about to break?"

Zhang Hao subconsciously shook his head: "No... it's just swollen, and it a little sore when you pressed it."

Cang Tianci nodded and continued, "Secondly, you mentioned 'disordered Qi and blood.' But when I examined him, I felt the Qi and blood were stagnant in the area, heavy and blocked, like a stagnant pool, not the chaotic and disordered flow you described. This is the most common cause of acute swelling, 'Qi stagnation and blood stasis,' and applying ice and resting allows this 'stagnant pool' to slowly dissolve. If there had been a violent injury, the Qi would have dispersed and burned like boiling water. Sir, when you diagnosed him with 'disordered Qi and blood,' what specific pulse or signs were present? Did you examine them carefully?"

Dr. Jia's eyes flickered: "This... the swelling and pain are clear evidence; why bother with further explanation?"

"Thirdly, and this is what puzzles me the most. My master said that a doctor's judgment is like a judge's ruling; it requires concrete evidence and a clear explanation of the cause and effect. Your only evidence that I caused the injury is the increased swelling. But there are many reasons for increased swelling: continued activity after the injury, improper hot compresses, or even repeated rubbing due to pain and anxiety can all worsen edema. You've determined that it was caused by me, someone who only 'lightly touched and examined' the swelling, without mentioning whether Zhang Hao himself rubbed or applied heat—isn't that... a bit too arbitrary?"

He paused, then continued, "My master often said, 'The greatest truths are the simplest.' The principles behind injuries are actually quite simple: for fresh injuries, you should immobilize the wound, apply cold compresses, and let the body recover on its own. Rushing into treatment is worse than not treating it at all. When I insisted that he apply ice and seek medical attention, I was adhering to this simplest principle. Sir, you immediately concluded that I had hurt him, but it seems you forgot to ask what else his wrist had gone through after my examination and before you took over."

The meeting room was completely silent.

Dr. Jia opened his mouth, his face flushed red, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he was rendered speechless by Cang Tianci's series of logically rigorous and incisive questions. He could only stammer, "You... what do you, a student, know..."

His blustering yet cowardly demeanor had a different effect on everyone else.

Teacher Xu's expression softened noticeably, her eyes revealing approval and satisfaction. Director Yang of the Political Education Department, however, frowned, his scrutinizing gaze shifting back and forth between Dr. Jia and Cang Tianci; his opinion had already shifted. Zhang Hao's father's anger turned to suspicion and uncertainty; he couldn't help but look again at his son's swollen wrist, then glanced at the "doctor" who was wiping away sweat.

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the conference room door. With the director's permission, an elderly man in a dark Zhongshan suit, with graying temples and a calm, deep gaze, appeared at the door, accompanied by Lin Ruoxi.

Lin Ruoxi introduced him to Teacher Xu and the director: "Teacher Xu, Director. This is my maternal grandfather, Professor Shen Qingshan, the vice president of the Municipal People's Hospital and chief physician of the Department of Orthopedics and Rehabilitation. I mentioned this to Teacher Xu yesterday. My grandfather happens to be having a consultation at the county hospital today, and the school invited him to make a professional third-party assessment in order to ensure impartiality."

Professor Shen Qingshan, with a calm expression, nodded slightly to everyone present, then walked directly to Zhang Hao, who looked nervous on the sofa, and said in a gentle tone, "Young man, don't be nervous, let me take a look at your wrist."

Zhang Hao tentatively reached out his hand. Professor Shen's fingers precisely placed on the wound, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly as his gaze swept over the rough plaster.

He carefully palpated the area, observing the shape, color, and temperature changes of the swelling. In less than two minutes, he turned and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, based on my diagnosis, this student’s wrist is a typical case of acute contusion that, due to improper treatment—most likely incorrect hot compresses or excessive, inappropriate rubbing in the early stages after the injury—has led to increased soft tissue edema and ruptured capillaries. His clinical presentation is completely inconsistent with the condition after professional bone-setting treatment. Even if professional bone-setting fails to completely reduce the swelling, it is usually ‘ineffective,’ not ‘harmful’ in causing this aggravated condition.”

His gaze swept over the fake "traditional Chinese medicine doctor," and he continued, "From a medical perspective, I can responsibly conclude that the aggravation of the injury is not necessarily causally related to whether or not bone-setting treatment was received. The claim that 'bone-setting damaged the injury' is unfounded."

After Professor Shen finished speaking, his gaze fell on Zhang Hao's wrist again, and he asked, "Young man, besides the swelling and pain, does your injury also feel itchy and hot, especially at night? Do you always feel the urge to scratch or rub it?"

Zhang Hao's body trembled violently, and he nodded subconsciously.

"That's right." Professor Shen sighed softly. "Improper or excessive rubbing will stimulate local tissues, exacerbate the inflammatory response and capillary dilation, leading to increased swelling, elevated skin temperature, and unbearable itching. This is a typical manifestation of 'secondary injury,' which is different from the original contusion. The more you can't help but rub it, the more swollen and itchy it becomes, creating a vicious cycle."

These words were like a final, devastating blow, completely shattering Zhang Hao's already crumbling mental defenses. Overwhelmed by immense shame, the fear of worsening his injuries, and the grievances of being manipulated by Zhao Xiaohu and the fake traditional Chinese medicine doctor for days, all mixed with the embarrassment of having his secret actions exposed on the spot by an authoritative expert, his reason crumbled instantly.

"Waaah—" Zhang Hao suddenly burst into tears, sobs streaming down his face, his voice hoarse as he cried out, "It's him! It's Zhao Xiaohu!" He angrily pointed at the old Chinese medicine doctor, "He took me to this old man, who said I was injured by Cang Tianci's massage. Zhao Xiaohu even told me to rub it myself more, saying the more swollen the better... He paid for it himself, saying he'd pay later... I'm sorry, Teacher Xu, Director Yang, Dean Shen, I was wrong! I was really wrong!"

The truth exploded like a thunderclap in the office.

A brief silence fell over the office.

Cang Tianci stood quietly in place, like a reef in a storm. He looked at Zhang Hao, who was crying and snotting, and at the "old Chinese medicine doctor's" face that turned pale instantly and his trembling hands wiping away sweat. There was no joy of victory in his eyes, only a deep, refined calm.

The color drained from Zhang Hao's father's face, replaced by a flush of shame and indignation. His lips trembled as he pointed at his son, wanting to curse, but in the end he could only dejectedly lower his hand, as if his spine had been removed.

The "old Chinese medicine doctor" was already ashen-faced and drenched in cold sweat. He tried to take out his handkerchief to wipe his sweat, but his hands trembled so badly that he almost dropped it.

Professor Shen Qingshan shook his head and let out a soft sigh, whether for this absurd farce or for the boy caught up in it, it was unclear. His gaze swept across the entire room, finally lingering for a moment on Cang Tianci's calm face, a hint of barely perceptible admiration flashing in his eyes.

Director Yang's face instantly darkened, like the sky before a storm. He quickly glanced at Professor Shen Qingshan, whose expression was calm and whose gaze was deep, forcibly suppressing his surging emotions, and turned to Xu Wenyuan, saying, "Professor Xu, the situation is clear now. Please go to the classroom now and ask Zhao Xiaohu to come here."

Xu Wenyuan's face turned ashen, the muscles in his cheeks twitching slightly from clenching his teeth. As the homeroom teacher, witnessing such a heinous frame-up in his class filled him not only with anger but also with a profound sense of guilt for his dereliction of duty. Meeting Director Yang's gaze, he nodded heavily and replied, "Okay. I'll go right away."

After saying that, he strode out of the office.