The melody, as smooth and delightful as a flowing stream, poured from Yun An’an’s slender fingers. The piece, *Die Lian Hua*, echoed through the space, captivating everyone present. Even when a client requested a mid-performance switch of instruments—from the *guzheng* to the *konghou*—Yun An’an’s playing remained flawless, her mastery effortless. At the end of each piece, applause filled the room. “An’an, you were wonderful tonight,” said the manager of the Jinbi club. She was a woman with a baby face dressed in a chic, mature style, and her smile was warm and welcoming. “Tomorrow night’s opening instrument is the piano. If all goes well, I can offer you a full-time position in three days.” “Thank you, Manager. I’ll keep doing my best,” Yun An’an said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Her fingers trembled slightly from the long hours of playing, though she paid it no mind. When she was a child, her grandfather would teach her a new instrument for every medical text she memorized. He had always demanded perfection from her in everything she did, so even if she lacked a natural talent for music theory, she pushed herself to meet his high standards. Fortunately, that self-discipline was proving useful tonight. “Something’s wrong! Old Master Chu has collapsed!” “It’s a sudden stroke! Someone call an ambulance, quickly!” Just then, a commotion erupted down the hallway. A crowd gathered, and panicked voices drifted over. “Old Master Chu?!” The manager’s face paled the moment she heard those words. Without another glance at Yun An’an, she hurried toward the chaos on her high heels. But Yun An’an’s attention was snagged by the words “sudden stroke.” Without a second thought, she followed. The scene was chaotic. People were pushing and shoving, but Yun An’an managed to force her way through the throng of onlookers. She saw an elderly man on the floor, the muscles in his face twitching uncontrollably. “Everyone, step back!” she yelled. “He needs fresh air! Crowding him like this will only make it worse!” But no one paid her any mind, except for a man in a sharp suit who had been standing guard by Old Master Chu. He shot her a look before immediately ordering the others to clear the area. “The ambulance will take at least twenty minutes to get here,” Yun An’an said, kneeling to take the pulse of the barely conscious old man. “He’s too weak; I’m afraid he can’t wait that long.” With a flick of her slender fingers, several golden needles appeared between them. Before the man in the suit could stop her, he watched in horror as she inserted one of the golden needles into Old Master Chu’s head. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. They stared at Yun An'an with a mixture of pity and scorn, as if she had just signed her own death warrant. “Outrageous!” the man snarled, grabbing her wrist. “Do you have any idea who this is? If anything happens to Old Master Chu, you’ll all be buried with him!” Yun An’an wrenched her arm free, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t know who he is,” she said coolly, “and I don’t care. Right now, he’s my patient. If you don’t want him to die, you’d best not interfere!” “You!” The man’s face grew darker. He wanted to stop her but feared that the needles in her hand could cause even more harm, leaving him to curse under his breath in frustration. How could a girl this young be a doctor? And even if she was, what kind of doctor sticks long, thin needles into a person’s head! Yun An’an ignored him. To an untrained eye, the placement of her needles might have seemed random, but anyone with true knowledge would have recognized the work of a master at the height of her craft. Ten minutes later, Yun An’an removed the last golden needle. Old Master Chu, who had been lying stiffly on the floor with his mouth twisted to one side, slowly blinked. Clarity returned to his eyes, and with it, movement to his limbs. “Old Master Chu!” The man in the suit rushed to help him up. “The ambulance is almost here, sir. Just hold on a little longer!” “Heh,” the old man chuckled, his voice surprisingly robust. “I’ve never felt so light and clear in my life. I’m perfectly fine. What do we need an ambulance for? Can’t you wish me well for once?”