Chapter Sixty-Two: Restoration

Not only Li Jiancheng, but even Chai Shao and Li Yuan were giving him unfriendly looks. With the medical conditions of this era, a craniotomy was practically synonymous with murder.

Yun Hao hurriedly shook his head. A craniotomy? That was no joke—he certainly didn’t have the nerve to attempt such a thing. He had no desire to become a tragic figure like Hua Tuo, dying young for his boldness. He shook his head like a rattle-drum, for the wolfish stares of these three were far too intimidating.

“Will you use acupuncture then?” Chai Shao asked. Yun Hao continued to shake his head—such a refined art as acupuncture was far beyond him.

“Then is it a decoction?” Li Jiancheng asked with suspicion. He really didn’t have much faith in this child. If it were a medicine, he would surely have forced a bowl down his father’s throat by now.

“No need, no need! It’s very simple, just a moment and it’ll be done.” In his previous life, a young medical graduate had cured a baffling heart condition in five or six minutes, one that the internal medicine department had struggled with for a month. Yun Hao had been so impressed that he’d had his son treat the young man to a meal in thanks.

Hearing that there’d be no injections or medicine, Li Yuan looked as skeptical as if he’d just heard a pregnant girl talk about a painless abortion. He couldn’t bear to wait even a moment longer; though the illness wasn’t fatal, it was torment. Constant dizziness and nausea made him long for death at times, tempted to end his misery with a knife.

Yun Hao had Li Yuan sit upright on the bed, then supported his head from behind. He turned Li Yuan’s head forty-five degrees, then quickly laid him down, propped his shoulder, stretched his neck, and placed his head on the bed with his ear downward. Swiftly, Yun Hao pried open Li Yuan’s eyelids—there it was, nystagmus. His confidence grew.

He gradually turned Li Yuan’s head straight, then to the opposite side forty-five degrees, holding that position for about half a minute before having Li Yuan roll over. After a while, he turned Li Yuan’s head to face straight ahead and slowly helped him to sit up, head held upright.

“Your Lordship, you may still feel dizzy for a while, perhaps even nauseated. Don’t worry, this is normal. In about half an hour, you’ll be as good as new.” After checking Li Yuan’s fundus and pretending to take his pulse, Yun Hao was ready to finish up. The repositioning for benign paroxysmal positional vertigo was not complicated—just a few steps back and forth, and if it didn’t work the first time, repeat. But rarely did anyone need more than one attempt.

“Thank heavens!” Li Yuan tried lowering his head and found he wasn’t the least bit dizzy. The fullness and ringing in his head vanished without medication. He turned his head left and right—still no dizziness. Overjoyed, he sprang up from the bed. Having been confined for days, he was thoroughly impatient; but every attempt to stand before had ended in dizziness, forcing him to lie still. Now that he was well, how could he not want to stretch his muscles?

“Don’t!” Yun Hao’s warning came too late. Li Yuan swayed, his legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. Li Jiancheng and Chai Shao caught him just in time, each supporting one side of his large frame. Only then did Yun Hao realize how burly Li Yuan truly was.

“Ugh!” Li Yuan’s breakfast came up in a rush. The Li family, with its Hu heritage, still kept the habit of drinking milk. With little appetite in the morning, Li Yuan had only drunk a bowl of steaming goat’s milk. The gamey smell of milk mixed with the sour stench of stomach acid was overwhelming—Yun Hao nearly vomited himself. Fortunately, since he had warned them in advance, Li Jiancheng didn’t have him dragged out and chopped into mincemeat.

Li Yuan, eyes closed and face deathly pale, was helped back to the couch by Chai Shao and Li Jiancheng. Li Jiancheng shot Yun Hao a glare as sharp as a knife, as if slicing a strip off him.

Li Yuan rested with his eyes closed for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, then let out a long, relieved breath. Yun Hao’s anxious heart finally settled. No wonder people say serving a lord is like living beside a tiger—just a mere duke, yet he wielded such authority. If he were emperor, a single word could decide life or death. Yun Hao felt as if he’d just made a round trip through the gates of hell.

“Father, how are you feeling?” Li Jiancheng asked with concern. For all his ruthlessness, he clearly cared for his family. At least toward Li Yuan, he was a dutiful son.

“Hahaha! The gloom of many days has vanished in a single morning—wonderful, wonderful! Yun boy, at such a young age, without needles or medicine, you have a true talent!” Li Yuan’s bear-like paw thumped Yun Hao’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Yun Hao grinned in pain, clutching his shoulder. The history books claimed the military aristocracy of Guanzhong and Longxi practiced martial arts daily, and it seemed it was no exaggeration. That someone like Li Yuan, born with a silver spoon, still retained such strength after over a month in bed spoke of years of diligent training.

Overjoyed, Li Yuan scooped Yun Hao into his lap as if he were his own grandson. “Boy, whatever you want, just say the word. So long as it’s in my Duke of Tang’s estate, it’s yours.”

Yun Hao could see Li Yuan was giddy with happiness. This vertigo was just like that—when it struck, it was enough to make you wish for death. But after the repositioning, an hour later one was back to normal. That final bout of dizziness really was intense—Yun Hao remembered it vividly from his past life. If his son hadn’t pinned him against the wall with his shoulder, he might have landed in the orthopedics department.

“I want a house, some land, and preferably some tenant farmers. And my mother needs a maid to serve her.” Yun Hao counted off his fingers, acting like a little adult, which made Li Yuan roar with laughter.

“Haha! So young, yet already a little miser. You healed my son’s wound and now cured my illness—these rewards are well deserved. Chai Shao, see to these matters. Do not let the Duke of Tang’s household lose face. In this life, I repay all debts—kindness most of all!” Now that he was well, Li Yuan was once more the heroic Duke of Tang, all traces of illness replaced by a commanding presence. His beard might be sparse, but his vigor was undiminished.

“Yes, sir!” Chai Shao was delighted to see Li Yuan’s recovery. With his engagement to Li Xiuning already set, he had long considered himself part of the Duke of Tang’s household.

Li Jiancheng looked at Yun Hao with a complicated expression. He had never expected a mere child to cure his father without needles or medicine. Had he not witnessed it himself, he would never have believed it. Was this the legendary child prodigy? If the Li family was to be restored, talent was essential. For a boy so young to have such ability, he must be kept within the family.

“Father-in-law, you don’t know it yet, but this boy also has the skills of the legendary chef Yi Ya. Let him cook a few dishes for you, and I guarantee you’ll be delighted.”

Yun Hao looked at Chai Shao—no matter how he looked, he seemed like a sycophant. His betrothed hadn’t even warmed his bed yet, and here he was calling him father-in-law so shamelessly!

“Amitabha! Who here has the skills of Yi Ya? Does this old monk have the fortune to taste such fare?” Just as Yun Hao was about to speak, a Buddhist chant sounded from outside the door.