After Three Years, the Mute Husband Speaks

Chapter 005

The air inside the flagship store of Cloud Cosmetics was thick enough to choke on, saturated with the cloying scent of expensive perfume and the acrid, metallic tang of panic. The high-end lighting, usually designed to make jewelry and skin glow, now seemed to cast harsh, interrogation-room shadows on the faces of the staff.

"Ms. Bailey, please, surely we can discuss this rationally..." Joan Foster’s voice trembled, her face draining of color until it matched the pristine white marble tiles of the showroom floor. Her usual sharp, imperious demeanor—the one she wielded like a weapon against her family—had dissolved, replaced by the desperate pleading of a woman watching her social standing teeter on the edge of a cliff.

"There is no room for discussion." The woman standing opposite her was a picture of icy fury. She raised a manicured wrist, glancing at a diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch that likely cost more than the average employee’s annual salary. "My time is extremely valuable, and you are wasting it. I will give you exactly three more minutes to propose a solution before I make a phone call that burns this place to the ground."

The silence that followed was suffocating. The sales assistants stood frozen like statues behind the glass counters, afraid to breathe too loudly lest they draw the ire of the wealthy woman.

"Cloud Lee, we have been husband and wife for four years. Do you have absolutely zero trust in me?"

The voice cut through the nervous murmurs of the gathered crowd like a knife. It was calm, steady, and possessed a resonance that seemed entirely out of place coming from the man standing near the entrance, dressed in cheap, off-the-rack clothes that contrasted sharply with the luxury surroundings.

Cloud Lee blinked, her long lashes fluttering in genuine shock as she turned her gaze toward Frank Yates. For a moment, she couldn't process what she was hearing. Was this truly Frank Yates? The man who had spent the last four years with his head bowed, accepting insults and humiliation without a whisper of complaint? The live-in son-in-law who was essentially a glorified housekeeper, washing dishes and enduring her mother’s scorn?

He had never dared to use such a firm, commanding tone with her. Not once.

Since when did this guy develop a backbone? she wondered, a flicker of confusion warring with her anxiety. Suddenly he opens his mouth and acts like he owns the place? Is he insane, or has he finally snapped?

Joan Foster, recovering from her initial stupor, immediately snapped back into her role as the vicious mother-in-law. Her fear of the customer was instantly replaced by her contempt for Frank.

"Frank Yates! There is no place for you to speak here!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and grating. "Get the hell out! Don't add to the mess! You're just trash cluttering up the room!"

"Actually, Aunt Joan, I think we should let him try," a smooth, oily voice interjected.

Starr Hall stepped forward, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke Italian suit. He wore a mask of concern, but his eyes danced with malicious glee. Starr had been pursuing Cloud for years, and the existence of this Matrilocal Marriage husband was a thorn in his side, even if the husband was a loser.

"Think about it," Starr continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let him swear an oath in front of everyone. If his 'treatment' causes any accidents or makes things worse, he takes full responsibility. He must state clearly that it has absolutely nothing to do with the Lee family or Cloud Cosmetics. It’s the perfect liability shield."

It was a suggestion dripping with venom, calculated to destroy Frank completely while shielding the company. It was the move of a man who viewed people as disposable assets.

Joan Foster paused, her eyes narrowing as she processed the idea. "This..." She looked from the disaster on the customer's face to the useless son-in-law. Suddenly, Starr Hall’s suggestion seemed not only feasible but brilliant. If Frank failed—which he obviously would, given he was a nobody—he would be the perfect scapegoat to sacrifice to appease the customer's wrath.

Frank Yates offered a cold, sidelong glance at Starr Hall. He saw right through the man’s transparent scheming. Ignoring him, Frank turned his attention to the angry customer.

"Ma'am, if I fail to cure the acne breakout on your face, I am willing to bear any legal or financial responsibility," Frank said, his voice level and assured. "This is my personal action. It has no relation to the Lee family or this company."

As he spoke, Frank could feel it—the hum of the Spirit Power coursing through his meridians, a warm, vibrant river of energy that he had only recently unlocked. Along with this power came a vast, encyclopedic library of ancient medical knowledge that had flooded his mind, specifically the teachings related to TCM and the Nine Cycles Star Technique. He wasn't just guessing; he knew. He felt the presence of the Spirit Master within his own soul.

Starr Hall sneered internally, watching the lamb walk to the slaughter. Kid, you want to play games with me? You're too green. You just walked right into my trap. Once you destroy her face, you'll be in prison, and Cloud will be mine.

To Starr, the idea that a live-in son-in-law—a man famous in their social circle for being a "waste"—could cure a severe dermatological reaction was a fantasy straight out of One Thousand and One Nights. It was laughable.

Hearing Frank’s declaration, Cloud Lee felt a strange, uncomfortable twisting in her chest. Their marriage was, to put it bluntly, a transaction. It was a Matrilocal Marriage arrangement designed to shield her from unwanted suitors and family pressure. But over these four years, the Lee family had treated Frank with a level of cruelty that bordered on inhumane. Yet, despite the abuse, despite the cold shoulder she gave him daily, he was willing to step into the line of fire for her.

"Fine," the woman said, her voice dripping with skepticism. "I will let you treat me. But you better hope you can fix my face. If not, you will regret ever being born."

The woman’s name was Tanya Bailey. She wasn't just any angry customer; she was the younger sister of Leo Bailey, the wealthiest man in Capital City. She had flown down from the north two days ago specifically to visit her ailing father. Yesterday, after leaving the hospital, she had stopped by Cloud Cosmetics in the Golden Grid Shopping Plaza to pick up a bottle of high-end moisturizer. She had used it this morning, and the result was a catastrophic breakout of angry red pustules. That was what led to her storming the store.

Frank Yates nodded calmly. "Please sit and wait for a moment. I need to step out to buy some TCM ingredients. I will be back shortly."

Cloud Lee stood there, six kinds of confused, her usual executive decisiveness failing her. She didn't stop him. She didn't know what else to do.

Starr Hall, seizing the opportunity to twist the knife, scoffed loudly for the crowd to hear. "Look at him. The soft-rice eater is probably looking for a chance to run away, isn't he? He's abandoning ship!"

"You shut your mouth!"

The roar came not from Frank, but from Cloud Lee.

The outburst surprised everyone, including Cloud herself. She glared at Starr with eyes that could freeze water. No matter how useless Frank Yates was, legally, he was her husband. She could scold him, she could look down on him behind closed doors, but she would be damned if she let an outsider humiliate him in public while he was trying to help her.

Starr Hall twitched, forcing a placating smile as he clamped his mouth shut. He shrugged, crossing his arms. Fine, he thought. I'll wait. I want to see if the coward actually comes back.

"Mom, do you think Frank really ran off?" Snow Lee, Cloud's younger sister, whispered to Joan Foster. She looked at the door with disdain.

"Just wait!" Joan snapped, her nerves frayed. She held no hope for her son-in-law, but at this point, stalling for time was their only strategy. They had to take it one step at a time.

To Starr Hall's profound disappointment, Frank Yates returned barely ten minutes later. He was holding a small paper packet from a TCM Clinic.

Fortunately, there was a traditional pharmacy just down the street from the Golden Grid Shopping Plaza. Frank had run there, purchased a specific blend of heat-clearing herbs, and returned without breaking a sweat.

Frank walked straight to the service counter. He opened the packet, revealing a mixture of brownish powder—various medicinal herbs he had asked the pharmacist to grind together.

He found a clear plastic container used for product samples, filled it halfway with plain hot water from the dispenser, and poured the herbal powder in. Then, ignoring the confused looks of the staff, he extended the index finger of his right hand and began to stir the mixture.

To the naked eye, he was just mixing mud. It looked primitive, unhygienic even.

But on a microscopic level, invisible to everyone else, Frank was channeling the mysterious energy from his dantian. The Spirit Power flowed down his arm, through his index finger, and infused into the water. It acted as a catalyst, breaking down the cellular structure of the dried herbs and reactivating their potent healing properties, enhancing them a hundredfold. The water swirled with a faint, almost imperceptible luminescence as the essence of the herbs bonded with the spiritual energy.

The watery mixture quickly thickened into a dark, viscous paste.

Frank picked up the container and turned to Tanya Bailey. "Ma'am, please lie down on this reclining office chair. I need to apply this medicine to your face."

Tanya Bailey walked over, her arrogance dampened by a sudden wave of apprehension. She sat down, clutching the armrests until her knuckles turned white. "Young man, don't you dare scam me. If my face is ruined, I will destroy your entire future."

Frank’s expression remained serene, radiating a calming confidence. "Put your heart at ease. After I apply the medicine, it will take at most five minutes. The acne on your face will completely vanish."

"A little hot water and some dirt powder can cure severe allergic dermatitis? I've lived a long time, but that's the biggest joke I've ever heard," Starr Hall couldn't help but sneer, unable to contain his mockery. " Frank, do you have to be so hilarious? If you're going to scam people, at least try to look professional. You're embarrassing Cloud."

Frank stopped stirring. He slowly turned his head to look at Starr, his eyes turning icy cold. There was a depth to his gaze that hadn't been there yesterday—a predator looking at prey.

"Starr Hall, if you say one more word, do you believe I won't throw you out of this building myself?"

The threat hung in the air, heavy and tangible. Starr felt his throat constrict. He suddenly flashed back to a scene at the Lee family villa, remembering the terrifying, vice-like grip strength Frank had displayed earlier. The man possessed the physical power of a Martial Cultivator or something equally dangerous. Starr swallowed hard, retreating a step. He only dared to mutter under his breath, "Hmph. I'd like to see what kind of magical effect that trash has."

Frank turned his focus back to Tanya. "If you are worried about the medicine causing harm, I can test it on my hand first."

"Forget it. Just do it." Tanya sighed, leaning her head back. Her face was already a disaster; she was desperate enough to try treating a dead horse as if it were alive.

Frank began to apply the dark paste to her face with his fingers. His movements were precise, almost rhythmic, applying pressure to specific facial acupoints—ST4, GB3, and other sensitive spots—to stimulate blood flow and maximize absorption.

Soon, Tanya Bailey's face was completely obscured by the herbal mud. From a distance, it looked as if she were wearing a heavy, dark gray charcoal mask.

Time ticked by slowly. The atmosphere in the store was heavy, the silence broken only by the hum of the air conditioning.

One minute. Two minutes.

Five minutes passed.

"Ma'am, it is done. Please go to the restroom over there and wash the medicine off," Frank said softly, pointing toward a customer restroom in the corner of the shop.

Tanya stood up, her heart pounding against her ribs. She walked into the restroom with the gait of someone walking to the gallows and locked the door behind her.

The store fell silent again. Cloud Lee chewed her lip, her eyes darting between Frank and the closed door. Joan Foster looked like she might faint, clutching Snow Lee's arm for support.

Two minutes later.

A piercing scream erupted from behind the restroom door.

"Ah! My face!"

In an instant, every eye in the room locked onto Frank Yates. The gazes were a cocktail of emotions—some held pity, others held the dark satisfaction of schadenfreude.

Starr Hall threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Look! Listen to that scream! Something happened! Frank, oh Frank, don't forget what you said earlier. You're dead meat! Prepare to die! The police are probably on their way!"

Frank stood his ground, though a tiny bead of sweat formed on his back. While the Nine Cycles Star Technique was profound, this was his first real-world application of the medical theories combined with his internal energy. Theory was one thing; practice was another. Had the Spirit Power been too intense? Had the herbs reacted poorly?

"Frank, leave. Now. I will handle what happens next."

Cloud Lee’s voice was low and urgent as she stepped closer to him, signaling him with her eyes to flee through the back exit. Her face was pale, but her resolve was clear. She was ready to take the fall to save him from prison.

The words struck a chord in Frank’s heart. Was this woman—his wife only in name, the workaholic ice queen—actually worrying about him?

It was unprecedented. In four years, she had never shown this kind of concern. It sent a warmth through him that had nothing to do with cultivation.

But Frank didn't move. He shook his head slightly. He needed to see the result. Seeing was believing.

The restroom door clicked open.

Tanya Bailey stepped out.

The collective gasp that swept through the room sucked the oxygen out of the air. Everyone’s jaw dropped. Starr Hall’s malicious grin froze on his face, looking ridiculous and twisted.

Tanya’s face... it was miraculous.

Not only had the angry red pustules vanished without a trace, but her skin was glowing. It was porcelain-white, tender, and translucent, resembling the flawless skin of a newborn baby. The redness, the inflammation, the blotchiness—all gone.

But it was more than that. She looked as if she had suddenly aged backward by ten years.

The transformation was so drastic it felt like a magic trick. One person went in, and a different person came out.

The scream earlier hadn't been one of horror. It had been a scream of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

Tanya walked forward, touching her cheeks in disbelief. She had discovered in the mirror that not only was the acne gone, but the fine crow's feet around her eyes—the bane of her existence—had also disappeared. The Spirit Power hadn't just fought the toxins; it had rejuvenated the cells themselves.

For a woman who prided herself on her appearance, this result wasn't just good. It was lethal. It was addictive. She stared at Frank, her eyes wide not with anger, but with something akin to worship.