Zhang Fan chuckled. "In our entire city, every child knows of Master Yao's brilliant medical skills. And now he's asking me to treat him? That's going to cut years off my life!"
Master Yao quickly waved his hand and said, "Doctor Jiang, you're far too modest. As the saying goes, the waves behind push the waves ahead—youth will surpass the old. Please, I sincerely ask you to take a look at this old man."
Feigning reluctance, Zhang Fan gave a small nod. "Then I shall obey, but I can't promise any results."
Master Yao replied eagerly, "With your miraculous hands, there's no illness you can't treat. I'm fully convinced now."
"Well, if that's the case, I'll give it a try. How do you feel? Where is the discomfort?" Jiang Chen asked.
"For the past six months, I've felt unwell—no appetite, worsening fatigue by the day. I've been to several top hospitals, but none found the cause. Could it be... my time has come?"
Jiang Chen smiled. "Master Yao, your forehead is full and your chin is rounded—classic signs of longevity. But… have you added anything new to your home in the last six months?"
"You mean furniture?"
"Not just furniture. Decorations, furnishings—anything."
"Well, now that you mention it... there is something." Master Yao scratched his head, remembering.
"What is it?"
"A theatrical costume."
A theatrical costume?
Jiang Chen's heart stirred—this might be it.
Anyone with basic knowledge of Yin and Yang knows that the three most Yang (positive) things in the world are dog's blood, a rooster's head, and a black donkey's hoof.
But the four most Yin (negative) objects are coffins, toilet stones, old beds, and antique opera costumes.
"You're fond of opera?" Jiang Chen asked.
"Not particularly. After I retired, I'd occasionally sing a few arias with some old friends. About six months ago, one of them gave me a Qing Dynasty opera costume. It's in my bedroom."
"May I take a look?" Jiang Chen inquired.
"Of course, come with me."
Master Yao rose and led Jiang Chen toward the bedroom.
As soon as they entered, Jiang Chen was hit with a wave of thick, bloody Yin energy.
Living in a room filled with this kind of energy—let alone an elderly person—even a young man would struggle to endure it!
The bedroom was spacious, with a large bed placed head north. Several ancient paintings hung on the walls. On the west wall hung an old tai chi sword and a few aged erhu and jinghu instruments.
All these items were clearly antiques of significant value.
Jiang Chen activated his divine sight and inspected them closely.
Each object radiated pure ancient soul energy—nothing unusual or sinister.
But when his gaze shifted to the opera costume hanging on the south wall, his expression changed.
The old costume was made from colorful silk threads, intricately embroidered with elegant patterns. The waistband was wrapped in black silk with additional embroidery, giving it a rich, regal appearance.
However, it was enveloped in a heavy cloud of bloody Yin energy.
This energy was thick and murky, like mist or smoke—concentrated especially at the collar and more diluted toward the hem.
It appeared gray-black and was odorless, but gazing at it gave one a sense of nausea and dizziness.
Staring intently, Jiang Chen noticed occasional flickers of dark red, like blood, seeping through the haze.
He silently deduced: the original owner of this costume must have died by the sword.
Master Yao, unaware of Jiang Chen's thoughts, lovingly caressed the costume and said, "This was worn by a leading actor in the imperial opera troupe during the Qing Dynasty. Just look at the embroidery—it's truly a masterpiece, worthy of the royal court."
Jiang Chen gave a faint nod but said nothing. He turned away and began admiring the ancient paintings.
"How is it?" Director Yao whispered. "That costume…"
Jiang Chen gently gestured for silence.
He had already identified the problem but knew better than to voice it now—Master Yao might not accept it, and that would make things awkward.
He silently walked to the wall and examined the paintings.
"Haha, these are quite old, but none are by famous artists. I hope you're not disappointed, Doctor Jiang," Director Yao said, trying to ease the situation.
Jiang Chen smiled. "You're too humble. While these may not be masterpieces, their age alone is impressive."
Pointing to one painting of a spring scene, he said, "This one must be the oldest among them?"
Master Yao was surprised. "Doctor Jiang, your eye for art is extraordinary!"
"Heh, just a little knowledge," Jiang Chen replied modestly.
Director Yao asked eagerly, "Can you tell which one is the newest?"
"This one," Jiang Chen said, pointing to a painting of bamboo and orchids.
"You're absolutely right!" Director Yao beamed and glanced at his grandfather.
The old man clapped with delight. "Doctor Jiang, you truly have a divine eye! To tell you the truth, that painting was done by my father. It's less than a hundred years old."
At that moment, the housekeeper came in to invite everyone for breakfast.
The three of them sat in the dining room and enjoyed a light meal.
Master Yao only took two sips of lotus seed soup before putting down his chopsticks.
While he was in the restroom, Director Yao leaned over and asked, "So? Did you find anything in the bedroom?"
"That costume—it's steeped in bloody Yin energy."
"So it was the costume!" Director Yao lowered his voice. "But my grandfather is obsessed with it. If we say something's wrong with it, he might not accept it."
Jiang Chen smiled. "Don't worry. I've got a way."
Just then, Master Yao returned from the restroom. Jiang Chen said, "Master Yao, there's something I'd like to say… though I'm not sure if it's appropriate."
The old man laughed heartily. "Speak freely, Doctor Jiang! Between friends, no words are off limits."
Jiang Chen turned to Director Yao and said with a smile, "This might be a little crude. Hope you won't mind?"
"Please, speak your mind. There are no outsiders here," Director Yao said cheerfully.
"Then… I'll be blunt. Master Yao, do you happen to have a black mole on your… you-know-where?"
The old man's face instantly flushed red.
Director Yao was also stunned. He had seen that mole when he was young, back when he'd bathed with his grandfather at home. It was about the size of a thumbnail, and the old man had always been embarrassed by it—he never went to public bathhouses.
"How did you know?" Master Yao asked, which was as good as admitting it.
"From your complexion," Jiang Chen replied calmly.
But the truth was, Jiang Chen had noticed a dark mole on the tip of Master Yao's nose, and—according to the system—such facial features often indicated corresponding marks elsewhere. Judging from the old man's overall aura, that mole had likely become abnormal recently.