When Ye Wutian and Jiang Senhui made their bet, the young nurse sister also ran back with the agreement form.
She had just handed the agreement to Su Zhiyuan when Ye Wutian sidled up to her with a wicked smile and said, "Nurse little sister, the honorable director has already sold you to me; from now on, you are a person of Ye Wutian."
"Ah?" The nurse little sister looked at Jiang Senhui in surprise.
Jiang Senhui's face turned red, and he quickly coughed twice before explaining, "It's like this, this young brother said he needed a personal nurse, so I recommended you. Of course, you don't need to rush to agree or refuse, you can think it over first."
In the face of Jiang Senhui's explanation, everyone was too drained to even complain, and of course, they were not going to expose Jiang Senhui's lie to his face.
The nurse little sister was bewildered; she stared with her big, beautiful eyes, looking from Ye Wutian to Jiang Senhui, and finally just uttered a confused "Oh."
Su Zhiyuan quickly signed the liability waiver, pressed his handprint, then handed the agreement to Jiang Senhui and asked, "Director Jiang, do you think this is okay now?"
Jiang Senhui took the agreement, checked it over, then nodded his head and said to Ye Wutian, "You can go in now."
Ye Wutian did not stand on ceremony; he strutted into the ward with the rest of the people following in his wake.
This special nursing ward was very well-equipped with a television, refrigerator, air conditioner, and computer—everything was available, just like the high-end rooms in a big hotel.
On the advanced electric nursing bed in the center of the room, Su Mengli's mother, Feng Shulan, lay there quietly. Her face was thin, her eyelids closed tightly, an oxygen mask fitted over her mouth; she showed no signs of life except for the faint, quivering electrocardiogram on the computer screen beside the bed.
Su Mengli walked to the bedside and took her mother's hand; her eyes were already moistened. This was her last hope of saving her mother, yet this hope was extremely slim.
Jiang Senhui and the others also gathered around the bed, all casting their gazes on Ye Wutian. What was this young man thinking, knowing it was impossible to cure yet making such a bold claim? Could it be that his mind was not right?
Ye Wutian didn't care what others thought; after observing Feng Shulan for a while, he turned to the nurse at his side and said, "Nurse sister, lend me your hand for a bit."
Although confused, the nurse little sister cooperated and extended her right hand.
Everyone curiously watched Ye Wutian, who excitedly grabbed the nurse little sister's hand and felt it up and down, mumbling excitedly, "This jade-like hand, this skin, this touch, just as I had imagined."
The crowd was dumbfounded. This guy, even at such a time, was thinking of such dirty things...
The nurse little sister quickly withdrew her hand because her superior was present; she could only roll her eyes at Ye Wutian, her face flushed, not daring to make any over-the-top remarks or actions.
Ye Wutian chuckled foolishly twice, then clapped his hands and declared, "Good! The Divine Doctor is about to begin casting spells now; open your eyes wide and watch carefully."
Without further ado, he bent down, used his right hand to pry open Feng Shulan's eyelids, and carefully examined them for quite some time. He then pressed several spots on Feng Shulan's head.
Just when the people around were growing a little impatient, Ye Wutian finally straightened up, said calmly, "It turns out it's really brain death."
Ye Wutian looked for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out such a piece of nonsense, which caused Su Mengli and the others to show displeasure on their faces.
Jiang Senhui wiped his sweat and sarcastically said, "Isn't that just stating the obvious? We already told you that beforehand, anyone can say as much."
Ye Wutian turned to Jiang Senhui with a smile and asked, "Do you know how many types of brain death there are?"
Jiang Senhui was taken aback and answered, "Brain death is brain death, what different types are there?"
Ye Wutian said with a smug smile, "That's where you're wrong. There are three types of brain death: the first is mild brain death; the second is moderate brain death; and the third is severe brain death."
Jiang Senhui, at a loss for words, argued, "Who wouldn't know such a generalized statement?"
"Then why didn't you say so just now?" Ye Wutian questioned.
Jiang Senhui, having no reply, could only huff, "I think you're just bluffing here."
Ye Wutian didn't mind and continued to ask, "Then do you know which type she has?"
"It's all brain death anyway, whichever type will just be as you say," Jiang Senhui replied with the feeling that he was like a scholar who had met a hooligan, unable to win the argument.
Ye Wutian laughed casually and said, "I think those old Western doctors from abroad only told you to determine brain death using instruments and drug stimulation, right?"
"What else should we use if not that assessment? Could it possibly be Inspection, listening, inquiry, and pulse-taking?" Jiang Senhui retorted confidently.
Seeing the two people arguing endlessly, Su Mengli anxiously said, "Hey! After looking for so long, can you cure her or not?"
"I've told you before, haven't I?" said Ye Wutian confidently. "There is no disease I can't cure in this world currently, and if I'm not mistaken, your mother-in-law should have been in a coma for 1891 days now."
Su Mengli calculated with her fingers, her eyes suddenly widening, and a look of surprise appearing on her face, "Including the day of the accident, it's indeed 1891 days."
Hearing Su Mengli say this, Jiang Senhui and the others took a sharp breath, looking at Ye Wutian as if he were a freak; they didn't believe Ye Wutian guessed, as getting such an accurate figure without knowing the date of the accident in advance seemed impossible.
Jiang Senhui swallowed and asked doubtfully, "Young man, just how did you calculate this date?"
Ye Wutian shrugged his shoulders and said indifferently, "Of course, it's through that Inspection, listening, inquiry, and pulse-taking which you Western doctors don't take seriously."
If one were to say that he discerned the patient's brain death symptoms through Inspection, listening, inquiry, and pulse-taking, there might be a slight possibility, but to even determine the patient's date of coma onset was simply a tall tale.
Of course, what Ye Wutian used wasn't ordinary Inspection, listening, inquiry, and pulse-taking; he utilized the diagnostic methods of the Spirit Pivot Heart Technique, using True Qi in combination with acupoints to reach the lesion directly, thereby ascertaining the precise number of degenerated cerebral cells and the rate of their decay, which allowed him to calculate the time of the patient's brain death.
Despite Jiang Senhui's skeptical look, Ye Wutian didn't want to explain too much; after all, all he had to do was cure the person.