I Conquer the Entertainment Industry with My Medical Skills - Chapter 3

An Ningqing’s illness was first noticed by her personal assistant, Su Guo. Having worked for the aloof actress for over a month, Su Guo knew An Ningqing had a fiery temper and peculiar habits. Sometimes, the star refused any close care, as if hiding a secret.

Su Guo’s sole task was to keep the refrigerator stocked. What she filled it with—mostly snacks—was up to her. She only came once a week, but brought enough to last. She was strictly forbidden from touching anything else in the house. Once, when she tried to tidy up, she was sharply reprimanded.

So, as Su Guo busied herself filling the refrigerator, she didn’t hear An Ningqing, who was staggering weakly behind her.

“Thank you for your trouble,” An Ningqing said faintly.

“Ah!” Su Guo’s hand trembled, and the carton of milk she was holding slipped, crashing onto the floor. “I’m so sorry! I’ll clean it up right away!”

An Ningqing’s face was pale as she clutched her stomach. She weakly handed Su Guo a piece of paper. “Please fetch two doses of this medicine for me. Here’s the prescription.”

Su Guo took the prescription and glanced at it, completely unable to decipher the elegant, flowing script that resembled a master calligrapher’s work. Without giving it much thought, she asked, “An An, are you feeling unwell? Stomach pain? Should I take you to the hospital?”

What hospital?

I’m a doctor myself.

An Ningqing stubbornly lay curled up on the sofa, drenched in cold sweat. “Get the medicine,” she insisted.

Su Guo immediately rushed out to the nearest pharmacy.

When the young pharmacy assistant received the prescription, he exclaimed excitedly, “Master, Master, come look at this!”

The old Chinese medicine practitioner was still taking a patient’s pulse. Annoyed by the commotion, he scolded, “Impatience! What kind of behavior is that? Those of us who study Chinese medicine should be calm and composed.”

Su Guo interjected, “I’m quite urgent. Could you please hurry? Thank you.”

The assistant reluctantly began preparing the medicine.

The pharmacy offered the option of either providing the raw herbs for home decoction or preparing the decoction on-site. Su Guo chose the latter, as An Ningqing’s apartment had a kitchen that had never been used, lacking even a proper pot for decocting medicine. After slipping the assistant some extra money, she finally received the prepared decoction two hours later.

After she left, it was time for the Old Chinese Medicine Practitioner to rest. The young apprentice brought him tea and water, massaging his back and legs. “Master, you won’t believe what I just saw. That prescription was miraculous!” He couldn’t bring himself to take a photo of the prescription with his phone, but since he had an excellent memory, he simply recited it to his master: “Buddha’s Hand slices, two grams; Agrimony, three grams; Cistanche, two grams…”

As he listened, the Old Chinese Medicine Practitioner straightened up. “Wait, where did you see this prescription?”

The apprentice tilted his head. “Just now, a woman came to get medicine and even cut in line to have it decocted. She seemed really anxious.”

The Old Chinese Medicine Practitioner’s beard bristled with anger. “Nonsense! This is clearly a stomach-nourishing formula. Why would it include detoxifying herbs? This is reckless! Quick, chase her down!”

The apprentice was speechless.

She’d been gone for half an hour already. Where could he possibly catch up? Even if he had lightning-fast legs, he doubted he could overtake her now.

The Old Chinese Medicine Practitioner pounded his chest and stamped his feet in fury. “This could kill someone! It’s over! Our century-old reputation will be ruined in my hands! Waaah!”

“An An, your medicine’s here. It’s still warm. Should I give it to you now?”

“Huh?”

An Ningqing had been convinced she was going to die here. The original owner’s poor eating habits—irregular meals and childhood starvation—had left her with chronic gastrointestinal issues. Yesterday, she’d drunk alcohol on an empty stomach, leading to alcohol poisoning, followed by a stomach hemorrhage and spasms.

“Thank you.”

“Taking care of you is my job.”

Su Guo always found An Ningqing particularly gentle when she was sick, radiating a tranquil aura.

After taking her medicine, An Ningqing lay down again and drifted off to sleep. When she woke up at three in the afternoon, she smelled a savory aroma. Her stomach, which hadn’t had food in a day and a half, protested weakly.

While An Ningqing was sleeping, Su Guo had cleaned the room. “My mom said people taking Chinese medicine should eat light meals, so I made some mushroom and vegetable congee. I chopped the vegetables into small pieces. An An, would you like some?”

“Just a bowl, please.”

“Okay.”

Su Guo ladled out a small bowl and sat beside her, feeling nervous.

Noticing the clean room, An Ningqing’s mood brightened considerably. “This congee is delicious. You’re quite the cook.”

This was the first time Su Guo had ever heard An Ningqing praise her. Overcome with excitement, she stammered, “Thank you! I learned it all from my mom. Her cooking skills are truly top-notch. If you ever have time, you should—”

An Ningqing smiled at her, and Su Guo cringed inwardly, wishing she could curl up and hide. How could a superstar possibly want to come home and eat with me? Su Guo, you’re such an idiot! One compliment and you’re already getting carried away.

“That sounds lovely,” An Ningqing replied. “If I have some free time, I’d love to visit. I hope I wouldn’t be too much of a bother.”

Su Guo couldn’t believe her ears. After a long pause, she finally managed a hesitant, “Not at all! Not at all!”

After finishing two bowls of porridge, An Ningqing finally felt like she was coming back to life. “I need a set of needles. Could you go out and buy them for me?”

“Needles?” Su Guo asked.

An Ningqing handed her a piece of paper with concise instructions. This time, the paper listed a set of needles of various sizes, specifying the required dimensions and patterns. “I need these within three days, preferably with a box to store them.”

The more Su Guo looked at the list, the more they resembled the needles used in traditional Chinese medicine. “Are these for acupuncture?”

An Ningqing smiled. “Exactly. You’re very perceptive.”

Su Guo’s inner groundhog was screaming. An An was being so gentle today. “Okay, I’ll go get it for you right now.”

As soon as Su Guo left, An Ningqing shifted slightly, treating it as a post-meal stroll. Her body was still severely weakened; she needed time to recuperate properly.

During this period, Guan Lang sent her the address for a fan meet-and-greet, along with a voice message. When she played it, his voice filled her phone:

I’ve been thinking about this all night, reviewing your WBo posts and your interactions with fans. There’s no need to publicly clarify anything—flirty banter is impossible to explain. But you’ve reminded me that your recent drama is a hit, and your fan club needs new administrators. We’ll hold a fan meet-and-greet and select candidates from among the attendees.

I’ll focus on testing the fans you’ve been chatting with. Leave everything to me.

Time’s tight. You have a scheduled appearance in three days. I’ll arrange for some publicity beforehand, and you can naturally transition into meeting your fans. I’ll handle all the arrangements.

Three days.

Perfect for An Ningqing to focus on her recovery.

She pulled out her phone, lay back on the sofa, and logged back into WBo. As she scrolled, she came across a video explaining emergency first aid, specifically cardiopulmonary resuscitation for brief cardiac arrest after drowning. She found herself engrossed in the demonstration.

Even in a state of suspended animation, a faint pulse could still be detected. For ordinary people, this kind of public education could be life-saving in critical moments.

An Ningqing casually tapped the “follow” button.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window, bathing her serene face in a divine glow, creating a scene of timeless tranquility.

Meanwhile, things couldn’t have been worse for Xie Anran.

In the modern digital age, speed is everything. No sooner had she and An Ningqing left the hotel than intimate photos of the two of them flooded the internet. Even though the Xie Corporation’s PR team swiftly removed the trending topics, the news had already swept across the globe like a hurricane.

The most infuriating part was the memes.

Now, whenever she opened her V Group chat, she was bombarded with those ridiculous photos of herself. Her close circle of girlfriends openly laughed in her face, nearly dying of laughter.

An Ningqing!!!

The moment Xie Anran thought of the woman who had humiliated her so thoroughly, she sprang out of bed with a carp-like flip and dialed a number. “Investigate this woman’s background,” she snapped. “Find any dirt on her. Which company does she work for? Hurry up!”

If I don’t make your life hell, I’ll eat my words, Xie Anran vowed.

Beep-beep…

Wanna grab a drink?

No.

Although the viral video of An Ningqing had been scrubbed from the internet, countless copies remained on people’s phones, impossible to eradicate completely—like a virus. An Ningqing’s popularity remained uncertain, but Xie Anran herself had certainly become infamous.

Humiliated, Xie Anran lost all interest in her usual bar-hopping.

It’s Yanxin’s birthday today. She asked me yesterday if you’d be there. Don’t disappoint the little girl.

Fine, I’ll go.

Xie Anran lingered in bed for a while before lazily getting up to choose an outfit.

Zhuang Yanxin was the younger sister of her close friend Zhuang Qingxin, five years her junior. Xie Anran had practically watched her grow up and had even picked out a gift beforehand: a limited-edition LV bag, the latest release.

“Happy birthday, Yanxin,” Xie Anran said, handing over the gift.

Zhuang Yanxin eagerly tore open the wrapping to reveal the handbag she had been eyeing. “Thank you! This is my favorite gift ever. You really know me, Sister Anran.”

Zhuang Qingxin couldn’t resist teasing, “Another bag for your birthday? You’ve been giving her the same thing every year! How unimaginative and perfunctory! Today, you’re punished with two extra slices of cake, Anran.”

Xie Anran had given Zhuang Yanxin so many bags over the years that they could fill an entire room—which Zhuang Yanxin had actually done at home.

Today was Zhuang Yanxin’s birthday, and besides her classmates, the guests were all people Xie Anran knew well. As soon as the birthday song finished, they ordered drinks, requested karaoke, and sang at the top of their lungs while cornering Xie Anran with mischievous grins.

“What are you doing? I advise you not to get too carried away.”

“How could we dare to get carried away with you? Aren’t we afraid of your fiancée getting jealous? Hahaha!”

Xie Anran’s face turned pale. She knew coming here meant they’d bring up old stories. She knew their type too well. “An Ningqing jealous? Ha! She wouldn’t dare,” Xie Anran retorted stubbornly.

The others laughed even harder, their laughter nearly drowning out the karaoke.

Zhuang Qingxin, equally curious, teased, “Your secrecy is impressive! You didn’t even tell me? Three drinks as punishment—do you accept?”

Xie Anran had her own unspoken troubles. Secrecy? Until yesterday, she hadn’t even known she had such a prominent fiancée. If she told them now that everything online was a lie—that An Ningqing had used her as a pawn—would anyone believe her?

Absolutely not.

And since An Ningqing dared to use her, Xie Anran would make her pay, with interest.

“Fine, just three drinks? I’ll take them.”

“Good, good, good!”

Xie Anran never backed down from a drinking challenge. Three drinks meant three drinks.

After she finished, the others began egging her on. “With such a perfect opportunity, why not invite her to join us? It’d be a great way to introduce her to everyone.”

Xie Anran: “……”

“Could it be that Third Miss is actually henpecked, like the rumors say?”

“Me? Henpecked? Don’t make me laugh!”

To prove her fiancée was at her beck and call, Xie Anran pulled out her phone. After searching through her notes for what felt like forever, she realized with a sinking feeling: Damn it, they don’t even have each other’s contact information!

“Ahem, it’s too noisy in here. I’ll step outside to make the call.”

“Hurry up! We’re all waiting.”

Xie Anran left the room and immediately dialed a number. “I give you one minute to send me An Ningqing’s phone number.”

Less than a minute later, a string of digits appeared in her text messages.

Xie Anran stared at the number for two seconds, mentally drafting three different scenarios—each involving threats and promises. She couldn’t believe An Ningqing, a small-time celebrity, would pass up such a golden opportunity to come.

But the moment she dialed, the call was hung up. She redialed, and it was hung up again. She tried a third time—same result.

Is this woman insane?!

She dares hang up on me?!

Fueled by alcohol and a rising temper, Xie Anran was determined to win this standoff.

An Ningqing noticed the same number had called her fifteen times. After hanging up repeatedly, she finally answered. “Hello? Who is this?”

Xie Anran was so stunned by the call connecting that she froze for a moment. She felt like she could have dialed ninety-nine more times. Gritting her teeth, she snarled, “Fiancée! You finally answered!”

An Ningqing shifted her posture. “I don’t love you anymore. We’re breaking up.”