Chapter Six: A House Call for Treatment

Su Chen smiled faintly but did not respond.

When the two arrived at the Niu residence in Taiping Lane, the old master of the Niu family had yet to return.

The Cheng and Niu families shared a close bond; Cheng Chumo usually came and went without notice. Given the special purpose of this visit, he hadn’t informed Old Madam Niu and led Su Chen straight to the backyard.

Under the porch, from a distance, they saw a young man with a short beard holding a scroll and reading.

Hearing footsteps, the young man turned his head, recognized Cheng Chumo, and smiled warmly.

“Chumo! Ah, and this must be…”

Since injuring his foot, Niu Jianhu’s usual confidence had faded, and he had been despondent for quite some time. Since then, he rarely went out and seldom mingled with the other prodigal sons of Chang’an city except for a few close companions.

He had no interaction with Su Chen, who had only recently become notable in the city, except for occasionally hearing some rumors.

Though much older than Su Chen, the latter showed no sign of intimidation and quickly introduced himself, “I’m Su Chen. My father serves as an assistant secretary. Brother Jianhu, how is your health?”

Niu Jianhu looked startled, closed his book, and regarded Su Chen carefully. “So you’re the young man known as the foremost troublemaker in Chang’an?”

“What’s the matter? You here at my house today—could it be you fancy one of our maids?”

Hearing Niu Jianhu’s sarcastic jibes, Su Chen knew his reputation was hard to redeem anytime soon.

Fortunately, Cheng Chumo stepped in to save the moment, explaining, “Brother Jianhu, you’re mistaken. I brought him here today to examine your foot and see if there’s any way to treat it.”

Mention of the injured foot brought a shadow to Niu Jianhu’s expression. He shook his head and sighed, “Back then, Uncle Cheng and my father sought out famous doctors, even found Master Sun the Taoist, but none could help. What hope could a prodigal like me, who only knows pleasure and debauchery, have?”

In the past, Su Chen would have retorted sharply, but given the gravity of the matter, he held his tongue.

“I’ve heard about Brother Jianhu’s injury and have already devised a plan. I came today to confirm it in person. May I examine your foot?”

Hearing Su Chen’s words, Niu Jianhu paused and then looked at him with newfound seriousness.

“Is that true? You really have a plan?”

Su Chen knew he couldn’t hesitate now and nodded. “If your knee is intact, I’m eighty percent confident I can help you stand again.”

The book in Niu Jianhu’s hands suddenly dropped to the ground. He sprang up as if on a spring, jumping and running toward Su Chen, his face alight with excitement and joy.

“Good, good! I only lost my foot, my knees and calves are fine!”

As he jumped and tried to roll up his trouser leg, his flustered movements threw him off balance.

Cheng Chumo reacted swiftly, rushing over to steady Niu Jianhu and helping him pull up his pants.

Su Chen stepped closer to confirm. Indeed, Niu Jianhu had only lost his foot; his ankle remained intact, which made Su Chen breathe a long sigh of relief.

Before arriving, he had prepared for the worst. If Niu Jianhu had lost the entire leg, restoring his ability to walk would have been nearly impossible with current technology. But if the injury was below the knee, two functional joints would suffice.

This outcome was ideal: only a prosthetic foot and an articulated joint were needed.

Though not formally trained in mechanics, anyone with a basic grasp of physics and structural knowledge could craft a rudimentary joint.

Su Chen’s relieved expression rekindled hope in Niu Jianhu, who grew overly excited, clenching his fist on Cheng Chumo’s shoulder.

“Su, Su Chen, what do you think? Can I really stand again?”

Wiping the sweat of nervousness from his brow, Su Chen stood and smiled. “Earlier I was eighty percent sure, but now I can guarantee you’ll not only stand again, but run and jump just like anyone else.”

“Is that true?”

Though Su Chen spoke casually, Niu Jianhu already believed about seventy percent, but he asked out of lingering concern.

Su Chen responded with a nod and turned to Cheng Chumo. “Chumo, please fetch Old Madam Niu. I have some things to discuss.”

Old Madam Niu came running, tears streaming, clutching Su Chen’s arm without regard for formalities, repeatedly asking if her son could be saved.

Su Chen quickly reassured her, “Madam, rest assured. Although my reputation in other matters is poor, I never take healing lightly. The imperial physician sent by the Crown Prince is currently attending to patients at my clinic. If you’re uncertain, you may send someone to verify.”

Old Madam Niu had heard little about Su Chen’s reputation. After all, the noble ladies of Chang’an mingled in hierarchies, and her social circle—mainly wives of princes and dukes—rarely discussed men like Su Chen.

She was momentarily stunned by his words and glanced at Cheng Chumo for confirmation.

Cheng Chumo grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Auntie, Su Chen’s medical skills have surpassed those old stubborn doctors in the Imperial Medical Department. I heard he even studied under Master Sun the Taoist for a time.”

Mentioning Master Sun, Old Madam Niu’s face showed doubt. “But back then, Master Sun…”

“Mother, I trust Su Chen,” Niu Jianhu said excitedly, waving a sheet of paper in hand. “Look at this—Master Sun couldn’t figure this out.”

Old Madam Niu finally released Su Chen, hurriedly approached Niu Jianhu, and took the detailed drawing he had prepared.

The paper was filled with lines of varying thickness marked with many numbers. At a glance, the two rod-like shapes somewhat resembled legs.

Seeing they couldn’t quite grasp it, Su Chen pointed at the drawing and explained, “This is called a crutch, a tool for Brother Jianhu to practice walking. I will need some time to make the prosthetic foot. During this period, Brother Jianhu must tie two to three pounds of weight to his right leg daily to adapt to the prosthesis.”

Hearing Su Chen’s confident explanation, Old Madam Niu believed him mostly. She carefully folded the drawing, slipped it into her sleeve, wiped away her tears, and urged Su Chen, “Young Su, please rest a moment. This is a big matter; we must inform your father. I will send a message to the palace at once.”

Su Chen nodded. His mission was only halfway complete; the most crucial step was to gain Niu Jinda’s approval.

Coincidentally, when Niu Jinda heard the news, he was already out of the palace.

He swiftly changed horses and rushed to the residence, arriving at the backyard before even changing clothes, to meet Su Chen.

Su Chen solemnly explained Niu Jianhu’s injury and detailed his treatment plan to Niu Jinda, who, for the first time before a younger man, wept openly.

From Su Chen’s words, he realized his son truly had hope to stand again.

Without delay, Niu Jinda returned to the palace, determined to find skilled craftsmen and superior materials for Su Chen.

Originally, Su Chen had pondered how to draw the emperor’s attention to this matter, but with Niu Jinda proactively requesting an audience with the emperor, much of the trouble was spared.

He believed that once Niu Jinda presented the case before Emperor Li II, it would surely capture his attention.

Though the prosthetic was not yet complete and insufficient to sway Li II’s resolve against the Su family, it was enough to alert him that the Cheng and Niu families were now embroiled in the affair.

But even this was far from enough.