Chapter Eighteen: The Reason

Li Yancheng, a man of extensive life experience, could easily discern the suspicion in the young man's eyes. The patient's current condition, organic erectile dysfunction, was only a part of the issue; it was deeply intertwined with his psychological state. In such circumstances, if the patient did not trust the physician, even the original author of the "Systematic Classic of Acupuncture and Moxibustion" would be powerless to cure him.

Faced with the young man's inquiry, Li Yancheng suddenly lost the desire to continue the conversation. The thought of using this patient to practice his skills vanished entirely; he just wanted to dismiss the man quickly to avoid inviting any unnecessary trouble.

"It's nothing," Li Yancheng said, slowly shaking his head. "I just suddenly realized that one of the ingredients in my prescription is quite difficult to procure. Comrade, I am truly sorry to have wasted your time. My skills are not refined enough to treat your condition. You had best seek a more capable physician."

The abrupt change in attitude caught the young man off guard, but he did not press for more information. He simply nodded and said, "It is no matter; it is I who have taken up your time."

As he spoke, he stood up, clearly intending to leave. Once on his feet, he recalled Li Yancheng mentioning a hard-to-find ingredient. Since the prescriptions provided by previous doctors hadn't included any particularly rare medicinal materials, he asked curiously, "Dr. Li, which medicine were you referring to?"

"Er..."

The question left Li Yancheng momentarily stumped. It had been nothing more than an excuse; he hadn't intended to use any rare ingredients at all. But since the words were already spoken, failing to provide an answer would make him look like a liar. Thinking quickly, he blurted out, "My prescription requires wild mountain ginseng that is at least three hundred years old."

Such a thing was rare and highly sought after—a top-tier, precious medicinal herb.

Three hundred years old! The young man raised his eyebrows. He didn't actually think Li Yancheng was lying, as previous doctors had also included ginseng in their prescriptions, though they hadn't specified such an extreme age. He remembered clearly that a doctor he had consulted through family connections had mentioned that the older the root, the better, and that if a very old one couldn't be found, a younger one would have to suffice, albeit with weaker results.

Regardless, it didn't matter now. The young man tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, gave Li Yancheng a polite nod, and walked out of the clinic.

No sooner had he left than Zhou Guotao entered, carrying a lunch box in one hand and three bean-flour cakes in the other.

"I see the man has left. Go get your lunch."

"What's on the menu?"

"Corn porridge."

Zhou Guotao walked to his desk and set down the lunch box, which had a spoonful of the cafeteria's house-pickled salted vegetables resting on top of the porridge.

Li Yancheng smacked his lips, feeling as though his mouth was going bland enough to starve. He desperately wanted to ask: Where is the meat? Where is the white flour? What about the rice? Every single day it was either bean-flour cakes or cornmeal buns. He had been here for nearly three months and could count on one hand the number of times he’d eaten white flour buns or rice. He hadn't seen a scrap of meat once, only pork cracklings twice.

This was far too austere. If things were like this now, he wondered how they had survived the three years of famine. But there was no help for it; he had to eat what was available. There was a restaurant in town, but he dared not go, fearing he would stand out as an anomaly. He had observed that, aside from when the town hosted officials from the county, the restaurant was empty from dawn till dusk.

Sighing, he fetched his meal. As he chewed the throat-choking bean-flour cakes, which felt like eating paper, he prayed silently for them to be allowed to return home soon. Oh, and noodles—he hadn't had noodles in ages. At the mere thought of soybean paste noodles, steamed rice, golden-brown white flour buns, and various meat dishes, he felt tears welling up.

Just as Li Yancheng was fantasizing that his lunch box was filled with braised pork belly, Zhou Guotao spoke up.

"Yancheng, do you know who that man who came to see you was?"

"Hmm? No, I don't. Why? Wasn't he someone sent down from Yishun County?"

"He wasn't. He and another person we haven't seen came from the city. And their mission here isn't just to evaluate the town officials; they have another very important task: to investigate whether anyone in this area has suddenly come into wealth."

"Ah?"

Li Yancheng was stunned. He looked up at Zhou Guotao and asked, "What do you mean? What does 'suddenly come into wealth' mean?"

"Remember when the Dianhai police came to question you about the murder of Cui Haiyang at the end of last month?"

"Of course. Has that case not been solved yet?"

"No," Zhou Guotao shook his head. He took a hard bite of a bean-flour cake, and only after swallowing did he continue: "I heard them say that not only is that case unsolved, but there have been three more consecutive murders recently. They say the victims were similar to Cui Haiyang, and they weren't even in the same place—they were in the West District, the East District, and Yangzhao District, respectively."

"Huh?" Li Yancheng was completely bewildered. What was the killer trying to do? Why kill people like Cui Haiyang? And one in each district? But what did this have to do with suddenly becoming wealthy? Did the police suspect someone had hired a contract killer?

"Then what did you mean by investigating those who suddenly became wealthy?"

"The cafeteria manager, Wang, has a brother-in-law who works as a temporary staffer at the town police station. He saw a notice for assistance in the investigation. It mentioned that the killer had taken a significant amount of money from those four victims. It didn't specify the exact amount, but it was described as a vast sum—not just cash, but gold and jade as well."

So that was it! Li Yancheng finally understood.

He quickly concluded that if the police were hoping to track the perpetrator through the money and valuables, they were wasting their time. He didn't believe a killer capable of committing four major crimes without leaving a single trace would be careless enough to stumble over something like that. Those individuals, whoever they were, surely wouldn't be spending recklessly—especially since you couldn't buy much without state-issued ration coupons anyway. Of course, such items were conspicuous; if they weren't hidden well and someone reported them to the police, that would be a different story.

This reminded him of his own spatial warehouse. That thing was the ultimate treasure for a thief or murderer. If you threw the loot in there, you wouldn't find a single trace even if you dug ten meters into the earth.

He was just idly thinking about it; he certainly wouldn't do anything illegal. He had plenty of ideas for making money in his head. Once the Reform and Opening-up policies began, any one of them would be enough to achieve financial freedom quickly. There was no need to risk his life by living on the edge.