Chapter 85: The Beautiful Little Lab Mouse

“Your menstrual cycle is irregular, your hormones are in disarray.”
“Your right hand bears scars, likely more than ten years old, caused by poisonous branches.”
“Your face has many freckles; no amount of foundation can fully conceal them.”
“Your arm shows signs of burns; you've undergone too many cosmetic procedures, damaging your cellular tissue. If you continue, that area may necrotize. Yours is quite severe.”
“And you…” Lin Yang hesitated as he looked at the elegant lady before him, whose actual age could hardly be guessed by her appearance. In fact, save for Tang Yixue, none of the women present could be judged by their looks—they cared for themselves so well, each seeming like a flower in her late teens.

The reason Lin Yang felt awkward addressing the golden-haired lady was simple: with his intense mental focus, his gaze was fixed on her voluptuous chest, and upon closer inspection, it appeared unnaturally stiff. Yes, stiff—too unnatural, so large that it eclipsed her shoulders from the front, and from behind, her figure resembled an inverted gourd, overly full.

Yet, when she spoke, breathed, or moved, her ample bosom barely shifted—far too firm, utterly defying the laws of nature. Lin Yang could easily deduce it was surgically enhanced.

Taking a deep breath, steadying himself, Lin Yang, guided by a sense of medical ethics, awkwardly remarked, “Though you’ve had breast augmentation, the silicone filler isn’t good for your body. Natural fullness is always best!”

Laughter erupted throughout the room, echoing with ridicule and mockery, with a hint of envy and jealousy. The lady whose bust was exposed as artificial rolled her eyes in direct annoyance.

The exposed lady’s expression changed again and again; if not for a close friend urging her to stay calm, she might have already exploded. This young man, why does he have to be so blunt? Couldn’t he have whispered it? She grumbled inwardly.

For women, there are two things never to be revealed:
First, that men care about their bust size;
Second, that men care about their age.

See? Life for women is exhausting—most live to attract men. How tragic.

“And you…”
“And you…” Seated on the sofa like a miniature surveillance camera, Lin Yang focused his mental strength and pointed out every health issue of the beautiful ladies present in the hall.

Watching their astonished faces, Lin Yang smiled with pride.

Since many doubted his age and medical prowess, he had no choice but to prove himself. In traditional Chinese medicine, there is the method of diagnosis by touch, but Lin Yang needed no pulse-taking—instead, he used his keen eyes to scan the ladies.

What is most convincing? True ability. He could identify their ailments at a glance.

As Lin Yang explained their problems in detail, the women nodded repeatedly. He was absolutely right. Some of these ladies' husbands, with whom they live daily, had no idea about these health concerns.

To them, Lin Yang was not just a doctor—he was a god, a god of transformation for women.

Yet, many remained skeptical, though their doubts were peculiar: Had this young man spied on them? Or conducted private investigations?

“Mrs. Wang, did you tell him our personal secrets?” Some people just love to stir trouble. When they can’t question his skill, they resort to groundless accusations.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Wang was the first to suffer such suspicion.

“Mrs. Jiang, don’t slander me. Besides, how could I know your secrets as well as he does? Can you even tell me when you got that burn on your hand? I saw it the first time I met you!” Mrs. Wang retorted, cursing inwardly at the troublemaker. She seized the chance to gain the upper hand, “If you don’t believe it, you can leave. No one is stopping you.”

Mrs. Jiang had no answer. For the sake of beauty, she endured and fell silent.

As the atmosphere grew tense, a childish, innocent voice broke the mood. The little one, abandoning his snacks, ran over and questioned Lin Yang, “Big brother, can you check me too? Tell me if I have any health problems.”

The child was mischievous—wherever he went, his words brought laughter. The ladies were doubled over, praising his comedic talent.

Lin Yang was speechless, cursing inwardly. Why must this brat interfere with everything? These were women’s secrets; what business did a child have? Still, his eyes gleamed with mischief, planning to tease him, “Ah, Xiaoyu, your body is fine, except for this… this…”

Lin Yang lowered his voice, affecting concern. The child wasn’t scared, but Mrs. Wang was startled, anxiously asking, “Lin Yang, what’s wrong? What’s wrong with Xiaoyu? Don’t frighten me.”

“He’s fine, just needs to control his eating habits, or he’ll grow too round to move.” Lin Yang exaggeratedly drew a big circle, implying the boy would become obese.

“I’ll pay attention to that. I won’t let him eat snacks anymore.” Mrs. Wang patted her chest, vowing to restrict his treats, pulling him away from the snack table.

“But, if I’m not mistaken, the child also has signs of hyperactivity. This must be watched, or it will affect him greatly in the future.” Lin Yang’s serious tone was not alarmist.

Hyperactivity is an inability to concentrate—an annoyance, not a major illness, but not to be ignored, especially in childhood. Otherwise, it becomes a lifelong problem, a significant health issue.

“Oh, thank you. I’ll keep an eye on it.” Mrs. Wang hugged her restless son tightly, speaking earnestly. She knew this habit well—after many hospital visits and consultations, nothing worked. Suddenly, her eyes lit up; she looked excitedly at Lin Yang and asked, “Lin Yang, do you have a solution?”

Lin Yang smiled slyly at the squirming boy in Mrs. Wang’s arms, thinking, “Hmph, now you’ll see how I treat you! Just now, you dared to sneak a slap at my woman’s behind.”

Tolerate the familiar, but not the stranger.

Seeing Lin Yang’s sly smile, the boy met his gaze defiantly. He remembered his father’s advice: if someone glares at you, glare back; if someone curses you, curse back; if someone hits you, hit back. Never let yourself be bullied.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Mrs. Wang relaxed, looking down at her son, who stared back stubbornly. She tapped his head and joked, “You must listen to Uncle Lin, or you’ll lose your snacks.”

The boy, ready to challenge Lin Yang, instantly lost his nerve, drooping like a defeated chick, but his eyes darted mischievously to the ladies’ various busts, while his hand, out of habit, clung to his mother’s chest.

“Lin Yang, let’s stop chatting. Please bring out your miracle medicine so we can see for ourselves.” Impatient Mrs. Su couldn’t wait any longer.

“Yes! Let’s see it!” With someone leading, the hall erupted in excitement, everyone demanding Lin Yang showcase his miracle cure.

Grinning, Lin Yang reached into his collar, rummaged for a while, and finally produced an exquisite jade bottle.

At the sight of the beautiful jade bottle, the ladies’ eyes widened. The bottle was stunning, adorned with a soaring phoenix.

Beautiful—so beautiful, they exclaimed in unison.

“Does it really beautify and rejuvenate?” Watching Lin Yang pour out a small heap of gray powder, which emitted a pungent fishy odor, the ladies questioned in disbelief.

The bottle was exquisite, but the powder inside was unsightly and foul-smelling, casting doubt on its effectiveness.

“Mrs. Jiang, would you care to try? Your scar should respond quickly.” Lin Yang’s gaze swept the room and settled on Mrs. Jiang, whose right arm bore a thumb-sized burn. He smiled.

“Me?” Mrs. Jiang pointed to her own face, incredulous.

The bravest are those who dare to try the unknown first. For women, nothing matters more than beauty. The young man had just said she’d had too many cosmetic procedures and her skin was badly damaged, yet now he wanted to experiment on her. Wasn’t this making her a guinea pig? No wonder she hesitated—who would volunteer for such a trial, especially with an unreliable young man?

“Could someone else try first?” Mrs. Jiang asked shyly, unwilling to be the guinea pig.

“Hmph, just a moment ago you boasted, now you’re too scared?” Mrs. Su, who loved to spar with Mrs. Jiang, seized the chance, mocking her coldly.

Her own scar was from a poisonous branch, far more serious than Mrs. Jiang’s minor burn, so Lin Yang hadn’t chosen her first.

Women are vain to the point of suffering. Provoked, Mrs. Jiang couldn’t stand to be shamed, declaring, “Fine, I’ll try. Who’s afraid? If it means another surgery, so be it. I won’t be intimidated!”

She adopted a resolute air, sat before Lin Yang, and extended her burned arm for him to examine.