After Lin Yuwei returned from Wen Ning's shop,
the Lin family hadn't given up on the matter.
Her mother kept grumbling,
"That Wen fellow is a fraud. What could someone so young possibly know?"
Meanwhile, she had her husband pull every string he could to ask around.
Persistence paid off—or perhaps money could even make a millstone grind a ghost.
The next morning, one of Mr. Lin's friends recommended someone.
His surname was Ma, and he specialized in difficult conditions that hospitals couldn't treat. He had a good reputation in their circles, but his fees weren't low.
Upon hearing this, Mrs. Lin immediately declared that money wasn't an issue and told them to get him over as soon as possible.
The following morning, a black minivan stopped outside the Lin family's villa.
The door opened, and a man in his fifties stepped out, dressed in a Zhongshan suit and old-fashioned cloth shoes.
His surname was Ma, and his given name was Cheng.
As soon as Ma Cheng entered, Mr. and Mrs. Lin came forward and explained their son's condition.
Without wasting time on pleasantries, Ma Cheng went straight upstairs.
He pushed open the bedroom door and looked inside. His brow furrowed briefly, then relaxed. This wouldn't be difficult; he'd dealt with it before.
He set the tools he'd brought on the bedside table.
Inside, yellow paper, cinnabar, a brass bell, and several silver needles were neatly arranged.
He addressed Mr. and Mrs. Lin, who had followed him upstairs.
"This is grudge poison. It can be cured."
Mrs. Lin nearly burst into tears on the spot.
Of all the doctors she'd sought out over the past several days, not one had dared say they could cure him.
The only person who had said he could, Wen Ning, had simply walked out.