Sent to the countryside, I turned the health center into a top-tier hospital.

Chen Ping and Cui Ying entered the house. Cui Ying's mother was sitting on the sofa watching TV, holding the remote control, flipping through channels but not really paying attention to any of them.

She heard the door open, turned her head to look, and her gaze fell on the two large leather suitcases Chen Ping was carrying. Her lips twitched down slightly, but she quickly looked away.

"Mom, we're back." Cui Ying changed her shoes and helped Chen Ping carry his suitcase to the stairwell.

Cui Ying's mother responded with a sound of agreement, but didn't say anything more, turning her eyes back to the television.

A shopping program was playing on the screen, and the host was shouting "Only 998!" She stared at it for several seconds without changing the channel.

Chen Ping stood at the top of the stairs, glanced at her, and carried his suitcase upstairs.

Cui Ying followed behind, entered the room, opened the wardrobe, took out Chen Ping's clothes one by one, shook them out, and hung them up.

A dark gray coat hangs on the left, a dark blue sweater on the right, and shirts are arranged in the middle, with colors ranging from light to dark, all neatly arranged.

After she finished hanging the clothes, she took two steps back to look at them, adjusted the spacing, and nodded in satisfaction.

"You're more meticulous than me," Chen Ping said, standing beside her as he watched her busy herself.

"Of course." Cui Ying clapped her hands, closed the cabinet door, and said, "Let's go downstairs."

Chen Ping went down first.

Cui Ying's mother was still sitting on the sofa. The TV had been changed to a dating show, where the female guest was crying on stage and the male guest was standing opposite her, looking helpless.

Cui Ying's mother watched intently, but Chen Ping noticed that her neck was stiff and her head was slightly tilted to the left. She had to turn her whole body around to watch TV, which made her uncomfortable.

Chen Ping went into the kitchen, took an apple and an orange from the fruit bowl, and a fruit knife from the knife rack. He washed them and went back to the living room.

He sat down on the sofa next to Cui Ying's mother and began peeling an apple.

The knife spun steadily in his hand, the apple peel hanging down in circles, unbroken and evenly wide, like a red ribbon.

Cui Ying's mother glanced at her out of the corner of her eye but didn't say anything.

After peeling the apple, Chen Ping cut it into small pieces, arranged them on a plate, stuck toothpicks in them, and placed them in front of Cui Ying's mother.

"Auntie, have some fruit."

Cui Ying's mother glanced down at the apples on the plate. The pieces were all the same size and arranged neatly, like the cut fruit sold in a fruit shop.

She paused for a moment, picked up a toothpick, stuck a piece in her mouth, and chewed it.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Chen Ping smiled, said nothing, and began peeling the orange.

Orange peels are harder to peel than apple peels, as it's difficult to control the thickness, but his technique remained steady, with strips of orange peel hanging down, removing the white pith cleanly.

He cut the oranges into pieces, arranged them on a plate, and pushed it towards Cui Ying's mother.

"Auntie, oranges are high in Vitamin C, which is good for the skin."

Cui Ying's mother glanced at him, her lips twitched slightly, and she put another piece of orange into her mouth.

She chewed on an orange, stretched her neck, turned her head to the left, then to the right, and stopped when she turned to the left. She frowned and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Auntie, is your neck uncomfortable?" Chen Ping asked.

Cui Ying's mother paused for a moment, glanced at him, and said, "It's an old problem. It's been like this ever since Yingying was born. My neck is always swollen, and my shoulders are also sore. I went to the hospital for an X-ray, and they said it was something like straightening of the cervical curvature. I did some physical therapy a few times, but it didn't help much, so I stopped going."

"I studied traditional Chinese massage; I took it as an elective in college."

Chen Ping stood up and walked behind her. "Auntie, let me massage you. Try it, and I'll stop if you feel uncomfortable."

Cui Ying's mother hesitated for a moment, about to refuse, when Chen Ping's hand was already on her shoulder.

It's not the kind of light, perfunctory pressing; it's a real, methodical grasp.

He pressed his thumb on the Jianjing acupoint, while his other four fingers gripped the upper edge of his collarbone, rubbing in circles with increasing pressure.

Cui Ying's mother's body tensed up at first, then slowly relaxed.

"Is it sour here?" Chen Ping asked.

"It's sour." Cui Ying's mother's voice was a little muffled.

Chen Ping changed his position, moving his thumb to the Tianzong acupoint, and changed his technique from rubbing to pressing, one press after another, neither too fast nor too slow.

Cui Ying's mother's shoulders tensed again, and then she let out a long, deep breath, as if she had been holding it in for a long time.

"This...this is comfortable." Her voice trembled slightly, and she coughed, feeling embarrassed after she finished speaking.

Chen Ping didn't reply, and continued pressing the button.

He pressed down from the shoulders to the back of the neck, from the back of the neck to the top of the head, and then from the top of the head back to the shoulders.

Several techniques were used, including kneading, pressing, pushing, grasping, tapping, and plucking, each of which was used appropriately.

Cui Ying's mother slowly raised her head, her neck straightened, and her shoulders relaxed.

She closed her eyes, leaned back on the sofa, and slowly curled up the corners of her mouth.

"Auntie, just massaging your cervical spine won't do the trick. You need to pay attention to your posture, look down at your phone less often, and use a lower pillow," Chen Ping said while massaging.

"Hmm..." Cui Ying's mother responded with a soft hum from her nose, carrying an indescribable sense of comfort.

Cui Ying came downstairs and happened to see this scene.

Chen Ping stood behind the sofa, his fingers pressed on the back of his mother's neck, his thumb drawing circles on the Fengchi acupoint.

Her mother leaned back on the sofa, eyes closed, lips upturned. The expression on her face was one she had never seen before; it wasn't happiness, but relaxation—a relaxation that came from the inside out.

Cui Ying stood at the top of the stairs, not going over, afraid of disturbing them.

She looked for a few seconds, then slowly smiled and turned into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, pretending to look for something, but her ears were perked up, listening to the sounds coming from the living room.

"Okay, Auntie, that's enough for today. If you massage for too long, your skin will be sore tomorrow." Chen Ping stopped massaging.

Cui Ying's mother opened her eyes, stretched her neck, turned left, turned right, looked down, looked up, and each direction was much smoother than before.

She turned her head, looked at Chen Ping, and her expression changed.

It's not politeness, nor is it distance; it's something contradictory, somewhere between embarrassment and gratitude.

"Dr. Chen, your technique is far superior to that of the therapists at those physiotherapy shops." Cui Ying's mother's voice was filled with an irrepressible sincerity.

"Auntie, please don't call me Dr. Chen anymore, just call me Chen Ping." Chen Ping smiled and washed his hands clean.

Cui Ying poked her head out of the kitchen, holding a bottle of mineral water. Pretending not to have heard anything, she asked, "Mom, what do you want to eat tonight?"

"Ask your dad when the time comes." Cui Ying's mother resumed her indifferent tone, but the upturn of her lips betrayed her.

In the evening, Chen Ping went into the kitchen again.

The nanny stood by, wanting to help but unable to get a hand in it, and in the end could only stand by the sink picking vegetables.