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Novel Catalog
Chapter 22: The Wealthiest Mr. Yarwood Has Arrived
Hilda’s sneer deepened as she watched the proceedings. “Don’t be so surprised,” she scoffed. “She’s from the countryside, so naturally, she’s familiar with the symptoms from being bitten by bugs. She’s just fooling you all. Let her try using a surgical knife and see what happens.”
But Wynter didn’t pick up a surgical knife. Instead, she calmly retrieved a set of silver needles from the first aid kit.
Those who had been hopeful about her medical skills suddenly felt deflated upon seeing the needles.
“Acupuncture treatment? For such a serious illness, she’s going to use acupuncture?”
“She’s just playing around too much.”
“It’s possible she doesn’t even know how to use a surgical knife. Dr. Lopez believes a young girl can save him? We’re in trouble now.”
Hilda smirked, relishing the moment. “I told you so. She’s just pretending. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s doing, and that license? It might be fake.”
“Dr. Gibson is right,” someone murmured. “How could someone so young be an attending physician?”
“I hope she’s not a fraud.”
Despite their murmurs, Wynter remained unfazed. She raised her hand, her fingers moving with practiced grace as she swiftly inserted the first needle.
The needle landed precisely on the scalp, sinking an inch into the skin. With each movement, Wynter called out the names of the acupoints: “GV 20, GV 23, GB 16, GB 18.”
Her voice remained steady as she worked, the rhythm of her actions smooth and deliberate. She was palpating with one hand and needling with the other, a true display of her expertise.
The doctors and nurses in the observation room watched, mesmerized.
In Southdale, where traditional medicine was rarely practiced, seeing such a technique was almost unheard of. Wynter’s graceful, fluid movements were like something straight out of an acupuncture textbook—perfect, flawless.
Even Hilda’s expression faltered. She murmured under her breath, “S—She really knows acupuncture treatment… How is that possible?”
And then, as Wynter moved with almost supernatural precision, Hilda’s skepticism deepened. She had never seen a needling technique like this before.
Wynter lifted the needles with ease, expertly withdrawing and reinserting them as if she had done it a thousand times. Her eyes were calm, focused, and unbothered by the scrutiny around her. It was clear she was in her element.
In the observation room, the shock was palpable. Even the most experienced medical staff couldn’t help but jot down her techniques.
One nurse whispered, “She’s incredible. That precision… I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Hilda, still trying to maintain her composure, scowled. “It’s all flashy. Just random poking. How effective could it possibly be?”
But the monitoring nurse, standing at the patient’s side, suddenly exclaimed in excitement, “The fever’s gone! The patient’s temperature has dropped—it’s now 99.8!”
“The patient’s pupils are normal-sized, and his consciousness is improving!”
“How’s his heartbeat?”
“Stable!”
The entire observation room erupted in excitement and disbelief.
Ryan, his heart racing, jumped in joy. “I knew it! I knew the genius doctor could do it!” He glanced over at Hilda with a triumphant grin. “She’s way better than a certain so-called expert.”
Hilda, on the other hand, felt her dignity crumbling. The humiliation stung, and the arrogant confidence she had clung to now felt like a distant memory.
Despite her miraculous success, Wynter remained calm and composed. She didn’t stop there. With steady hands, she carefully punctured the tick bite wound, gently squeezing out the toxins that had accumulated.
As she worked, Fabian, still partially delirious, muttered, “Little princess… Is it my little princess?”
With a sudden surge of strength, he reached out, clumsily grabbing Wynter’s wrist.
Hilda, watching this from a distance, sneered inwardly. Even if they managed to save him, what good would it do? For an old man from the backwoods—what could he possibly offer in return? He’d only end up being a burden.
With that thought, Hilda felt a small measure of reassurance.
Meanwhile, in the VIP-exclusive elevator, the hospital’s president, Victor Penton, and vice president, Jeremy Clark, stood frozen, their bodies trembling slightly.
At the center of it all was a man who commanded every ounce of attention in the room. Dressed in a finely tailored suit, his pale complexion gave him an almost ethereal appearance—noble and fragile, yet undeniably powerful.
But no one considered him a typical patient. The chilling aura emanating from his eyes and the undeniable presence he exuded made it clear that he was not just another wealthy man seeking medical attention. He was someone much more—someone who commanded respect the moment he entered any room.
And in that moment, the atmosphere in the hospital shifted, as if the very air itself had become charged with anticipation.
