After Three Years, the Mute Husband Speaks

Chapter 008

Dr. Ross was a man of science, a titan in the field of internal medicine. His worldview was built on the solid foundation of anatomy, chemistry, and peer-reviewed studies. To him, the ancient Eastern practice of acupuncture—poking patients with thin metal needles to manipulate "energy"—was nothing more than a parlor trick, a placebo effect sold to the superstitious.

But what unfolded before his eyes shattered that foundation into dust.

Nine needles. That was all it took.

Three seconds after the final needle quivered into place, the old man’s body, which had been limp and grey, suddenly convulsed. A violent tremor rippled through his muscles, starting from his chest and radiating outward.

Frank Yates moved with the reflexes of a striking viper. He snatched the oxygen mask away from the old man’s face, tilting the patient's head to the side just as his jaw clamped shut.

"Huuu-ack!"

The sound was guttural and wet. The old man retched violently, his body heaving as he expelled a mouthful of thick, black blood into the metal basin Frank had kicked into position. The substance was dark, viscous, and carried a foul, metallic stench—the physical manifestation of the Malicious Energy and stagnated toxins that had been choking his heart for years.

After the purge, the old man’s chest heaved rapidly, gasping for air like a drowning man breaking the surface. Then, gradually, the frantic gasps smoothed out. His chest began to rise and fall in a steady, rhythmic cadence.

He was breathing. On his own.

The room fell into a stunned, church-like silence. The expressions on everyone’s faces froze, caught between horror and awe.

If restarting the stopped heart had been the first miracle, restoring spontaneous respiration and purging the toxin was the second.

Frank exhaled a long, slow breath, wiping a sheen of cold sweat from his forehead. The Spirit Power required to execute the Nine Cycles Soul Return Needle was immense, and he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, settling deep in his bones. He carefully removed the Silver Needles one by one, his hands steady despite the fatigue.

He turned to look at Leo Bailey. "He’s back. I’ve saved him. The crisis has passed."

Leo Bailey stared at the monitor. The jagged green lines that represented his father’s life were now marching across the screen in a stable, reassuring pattern. The numbers were strong. The gratitude that swelled in Leo's chest was overwhelming, choking him up until he couldn't speak.

"Little brother... I... I was a fool," Leo stammered, his voice thick with emotion and trembling. "I was blind! I almost killed my own father with my arrogance!" His expression twisted into deep self-loathing. "I am an unfilial son! I deserve to die!"

Slap!

Leo raised a heavy hand and slapped himself hard across the face, the sharp sound echoing loudly in the silent room. His cheek turned red instantly.

"Brother, stop! Don't do this!" Tanya Bailey rushed forward, grabbing his wrist to prevent a second blow. Tears streamed down her face. "Dad is alive. That's what matters. He saved him."

Under Tanya’s soothing touch, Leo regained a semblance of composure, though his hands still shook. He turned his red-rimmed eyes toward Frank, looking at the young man as if he were a descending deity. "By the way, young man, in my panic, I didn't even ask... what is your name?"

"I am Frank Yates."

"Mr. Yates," Leo said, bowing his head slightly—a gesture of immense respect from the man who practically owned Capital City. "I, Leo Bailey, owe you a debt I can never fully repay. I apologize for my earlier ignorance and rudeness. I was wrong to judge you."

"Mr. Bailey, there is no need for such formalities. I understand your feelings; you were protecting your father," Frank replied, his tone humble and devoid of arrogance. "Although I have brought him back from the brink, his condition is still fragile. The toxins have been purged, but his qi is weak. To get him walking again, I will need to perform two more acupuncture sessions. I will return tomorrow at noon for the next treatment. For now, I will take my leave."

With that, Frank turned and walked toward the door, his movements unhurried.

Dr. Ross watched Frank’s retreating back, his face a canvas of complex emotions. He had just witnessed a young man in cheap clothes perform a medical miracle with nothing but thin metal needles. His own reputation as a top US specialist had taken a hit, yes, but the scientist in him was humbled. To witness the mysterious power of Huaxia's ancient arts firsthand... perhaps this trip was worth the humiliation.

Suddenly, Tanya remembered something and hurried to block Frank's path before he could leave the ICU.

"Frank, wait! Please, give me your bank account number. The five million dollars I promised—I want to transfer it immediately."

Frank paused and looked back, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Ms. Bailey, there is no rush. Wait until I have completely cured your father. You can pay me the consultation f*e then. I trust the word of the Bailey family."

"Alright. We will be waiting for you here at the hospital tomorrow noon." Tanya looked at him with eyes full of gratitude and admiration.

Frank pushed open the double doors and stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, four pairs of eyes locked onto him like laser sights.

"Frank, you... you actually saved that old man?" Cloud Lee’s voice was filled with disbelief. She stepped forward, her eyes searching his face for answers. If she hadn't seen Leo Bailey kneeling on the floor through the glass window, she would never have believed it.

What had happened to this man? How did he suddenly understand medicine? Had he been secretly attending TCM night classes during the four years of their Matrilocal Marriage?

That doesn't make sense, she thought, her mind reeling. For four years, he’s been a house husband. Washing, cooking, cleaning, playing video games. I see him every day. Where did he find the time to become a master physician?

Today’s events had completely overturned Cloud Lee’s perception of her husband. The useless waste was suddenly a savior.

Frank nodded simply, offering no elaborate explanation to satisfy her curiosity. "Let's go home. I'm tired."

Joan Foster and Snow Lee shared similar feelings of bewilderment. While they couldn't comprehend the sudden change in Frank—it felt like looking at a stranger wearing Frank's face—the crisis was resolved. They hadn't been sued, they hadn't been arrested, and the Bailey family wasn't going to destroy them. That was all that mattered to them.

Starr Hall did not return with them. He had just returned to Capital City and had appointments with his father to meet influential figures, paving the way for his future business ventures. He claimed he had "urgent networking" to do.

As he watched Frank’s back disappear around the corner of the hospital corridor, Starr’s face twisted into a cold, venomous sneer. The jealousy in his heart was like a burning coal.

"Frank Yates... even if your luck is heaven-defying today, I will still crush you," Starr muttered to himself, his fists clenching. "You are just a stepping stone. Just wait. I'll find your weakness."

Forty minutes later.

The black Mercedes glided smoothly through the gates of the Sunstar Villa Estates, an exclusive enclave for the wealthy of Capital City. The car pulled up the driveway and parked in front of the Lee family's detached villa.

The drive had been silent. A heavy, awkward silence hung in the car, filled with unspoken questions. Cloud Lee had glanced at Frank multiple times, but he had remained focused on the road, his expression unreadable.

After Cloud Lee, Joan, and Snow got out, Frank parked the car in the garage.

Inside the living room, the atmosphere was relaxed, a stark contrast to the life-and-death drama of the hospital. Cloud’s father, Ted Lee, was already home. He sat on the plush leather sofa, sipping Dragon Well tea and reading the evening newspaper under the warm glow of the chandelier.

Ted Lee was a man of leisure. He used to work at the Local Tax Bureau, a comfortable government job. After taking early retirement, he partnered with friends to start a trading company. Ten years later, that company went public, and Ted became a board director. Although he wasn't involved in daily operations, he held a five percent stake in the listed company. The annual dividends provided a substantial income, allowing him to live a life of luxury without lifting a finger.

"Dad, we're back!" Snow Lee called out as she kicked off her shoes and bounded up the stairs to the second floor, eager to escape the lingering tension.

Ted Lee lowered his newspaper, adjusting his reading glasses as he looked at his wife. "Where have you been all day? I heard there was a serious incident at Cloud’s company. A customer had a reaction? What’s the situation?"

"It's fine. It's resolved," Joan Foster replied, collapsing onto the sofa next to him. She took a sip of water, sighing. "Surprisingly, it was resolved thanks to your son-in-law."

"Oh? Frank?" Ted glanced at Frank, who had just entered from the garage, with mild surprise. "How so?"

Joan gave him a brief, simplified summary of the events, omitting the parts where they tried to throw Frank under the bus.

Hearing the story, Ted put down his paper and looked at Frank curiously. "Frank, since when do you know medical skills? I didn't know we had a doctor in the house."

"I don't really know medicine, Dad. I've just read a few books on TCM over the last couple of years to pass the time," Frank replied smoothly, his face a mask of practiced humility. He naturally wasn't going to reveal the truth about the Spirit Power or the ancient memories awakening in his mind.

Cloud Lee interjected, her voice sharp. "Dad, don't listen to him. Today was just pure luck. A blind cat bumping into a dead mouse. Do you really think he can cure people? He just happened to guess right."

Ted Lee nodded, leaning back. It made sense. He knew the weight of his son-in-law perfectly well. The boy was diligent but untalented. "Right. Luck is a funny thing." He waved his hand dismissively, losing interest. "Frank, go make dinner. I'm hungry."

Frank didn't argue. He didn't defend himself. He simply nodded. "Yes, Dad."

He turned and walked toward the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves.

For the past four years, all household chores—laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, and cooking—had been Frank's sole responsibility. He was less of a son-in-law and more of an unpaid servant, a live-in maid with a marriage certificate.

But as he chopped vegetables and listened to the family chatting and laughing in the living room—completely excluding him—Frank made a silent vow.

Enjoy this while it lasts, he thought.

He had made a decision. Once he fully cured Leo Bailey's father and received the five million dollars—his first pot of gold—he would file for divorce. He would leave Cloud Lee, leave the Lee family's disdain, and start a new life. He would use the Spirit Power to rise to the top of the world. He would no longer be a servant to anyone.

Night fell over Sunstar Villa Estates.

After dinner, and after washing the dishes, Frank retreated to his bedroom. It was a small guest room on the first floor, separate from Cloud's master suite upstairs. They had slept in separate rooms for four years.

He sat on his bed, crossing his legs in a meditative posture. He closed his eyes, intending to explore the uses of the mysterious energy flowing through him, to understand the depths of the Nine Cycles Star Technique.

Suddenly, the silence of the room was shattered.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Frank opened his eyes and picked it up. The screen displayed a strange number starting with '9'—a virtual number routed through the internet, untraceable and often used by scammers or hackers.

Frank frowned and hung up immediately. He wasn't in the mood for spam calls.

He placed the phone back on the nightstand.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

It rang again instantly. The same number.

Frank rejected the call again. "Persistent," he muttered.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

A third time.

Annoyed, Frank snatched the phone up. He pressed the answer button, ready to curse out the telemarketer for interrupting his cultivation.

"Hello? Who is this?"

But the voice that drifted out of the speaker froze the blood in his veins. It stopped the breath in his throat.

"Frank Yates... do you remember me?"

The voice was raspy, low, and terrifyingly familiar. It sounded like grinding stones, devoid of human warmth.

"It's you!"

Frank's grip tightened on the phone until the plastic case cracked. His eyes widened in shock. He would never forget that voice. It belonged to the nightmare from his past—the man who had kidnapped him three years ago, the man who had injected him with a mysterious, burning substance. That injection had caused him agonizing pain for months and turned him into a 'waste'—weak, lethargic, and brain-fogged—for three long years.

"Heh heh... Congratulations on surviving," the voice rasped. The laughter was like sandpaper on glass, mocking and cold.

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.

"Out of all the experimental subjects, you are the only one who is still alive after three years. The others... well, they exploded or rotted away."

"Experimental subjects?" A sense of dread washed over Frank, colder than any winter wind.

"Don't be afraid. Since you survived, it means the heavens favor you. You are a successful prototype. You must have already utilized the energy inside you, yes? The power to heal, the power to destroy. Check your body now. Do you feel that the energy has diminished slightly since you used it today?"