CHAPTER 24: CHAPTER 24: HER FOOT CAN BE HEALED

Vera’s eyes lit up, she clutched the strap of her bag tightly, "Teacher, can it really be cured?"

Perhaps the old doctors in the country have better medical skills.

Just like many terminal illnesses, the most advanced medical technology cannot cure them, but some barefoot doctors in Chinese medicine can.

Wendy Donovan recalled the words of the old expert carefully, "Last time he was very sure there was no problem! I thought the expert that Ian Kane found for you would be better, so I didn’t tell you."

A warm surge rose in Vera’s chest, her black and white eyes filled with hope, "Teacher, is this expert in today? Can I get an appointment? I want to go over as soon as possible, just in case..."

Just in case not only can it be cured, but I can also return to the stage.

Wendy also seemed to see hope, "This old expert is retired. Now he is a specially-appointed rehabilitation therapist for our dance troupe. He is available and familiar with me, I often go to him for joint problems and acupuncture."

"I’ll give him a call right now to arrange it."

Vera nodded repeatedly, her lips curling up involuntarily.

Wendy called the old expert, who advised Vera to first go to the hospital for an ankle CT scan before consulting him.

Neither master nor student had time to sip tea; they packed up briefly and headed for the hospital.

Before they could leave the courtyard, Noah Grant stepped in with long strides, raised an eyebrow seeing them, "Professor Donovan, Vera, are you heading out?"

"Noah, I was just about to take Vera to check her foot." Wendy thought to herself, "You haven’t left yet."

Noah Grant, "The meeting was canceled last minute. Where are you going for the check-up? Do you have a driver?"

Vera smiled, "Senior Grant, my teacher and I are going to the hospital for an X-ray first."

Noah glanced at his watch, "At this time, the morning might be too late. Let me take you there, a word from me might speed things up."

Wendy, "That would be great, morning might not be enough time."

Vera looked at the man, "Then I’ll trouble you."

Noah’s brow furrowed slightly, he said nothing, his expression somewhat stern.

In the afternoon, at a royal garden-style clubhouse in the West District.

In the private room, glasses clinked as drinks were exchanged.

Ian Kane held a bottle of baijiu, walked to the side of a middle-aged man in a white shirt and black jacket, leaning close to the man’s ear, his handsome face carried a flattering smile.

"Director Lewis, our cooperation this time—"

The man raised his hand, interrupting Ian Kane’s words, "President Kane, no business talk while drinking, come, brother, let me propose a toast to you."

Ian pressed his tongue against his cheek, the smile not reaching his eyes, "Yes, let’s drink! It’s still my little brother’s toast to you."

He tilted his head back and drank three small glasses of Wuliangye in a row, then he left the room under the pretense of taking a phone call.

The moment the door closed, the smile vanished from Ian Kane’s face, and a sinister gleam flashed through his deep eyes as he whispered instructions to the assistant waiting outside, "Get some girls over to keep him company... leave a handle."

As he spoke, he snorted lightly through his nose, "If he won’t take the toast, I’ll have to play dirty."

Assistant Elias Crowe, "President Kane, I understand."

"By the way, your wife and her teacher went to the hospital."

Ian Kane’s nerves tightened, "What’s wrong with her?"

Elias, "Your wife went to orthopedics, got an ankle CT scan. Her teacher recommended a retired old expert for her, they’re going to see the expert, who’s a big name in orthopedics."

Ian’s expression turned extremely dark and he gritted his teeth, asking quietly, "Have they met the expert yet? Why wasn’t I told earlier!"

Elias, "They just got the CT scan, haven’t met with the expert yet. I was about to report to you, President Kane, what should we do now? Barrister Grant is also there."

Ian’s jawline tightened, he narrowed his eyes slightly, speaking in a cold voice, "Why is he there too?! First, call that expert for me."

Elias: "Yes!"

Private Consultation Room

The gray-haired old expert, wearing reading glasses, carefully reviewed Vera’s CT scan.

Vera nervously clasped her hands, waiting for his answer.

Wendy Donovan also tensed up.

Finally, the old expert took off his glasses, looked at Vera, "Miss, I can’t treat your injured ankle, the tibia and fibula injuries are severe."

His words were like a bucket of cold water poured over Vera’s head.

Wendy Donovan, "Old Man Woods, didn’t you say before after seeing Vera’s scan that it could be treated? Why can’t it be treated now?"

Old Man Woods sighed, "That scan wasn’t as badly injured as this one. I estimate, it’s because the young lady aggravated the injury after dancing last time, in her condition, she should rest well, no more overexertion."

With a face ashen, Vera was helped out of the consulting room by Wendy Donovan.

"Vera, don’t lose hope..." Wendy comforted her, but in her heart, she sighed deeply.

Her once promising student’s career was now jeopardized, leaving her deeply unsatisfied.

...

On the way back, Wendy had an appointment and took a taxi first, instructing Noah to send Vera back to the hotel.

Vera turned to the man beside her, "Senior Grant, I want to walk by myself, could you please pull over."

Noah’s Adam’s apple bobbed, he said nothing, picked up the intercom, "Old Man Crowe, pull over."

After getting out of the car, Vera walked aimlessly, limping along the streets of Veridia, occasionally catching the eyes of bystanders either in sympathy or pity for her foot.

Those gazes felt like invisible pins, pricking at her proud yet sensitive self-esteem.

Noah’s car quietly followed her staggering figure, his mind filled with memories of her dazzling presence on stage.

Just then, suddenly a red sports car came barreling toward Vera, the man’s pupils shrank abruptly, his breath momentarily seized.

The sports car braked just before hitting Vera, she stumbled back in fright, awkwardly falling to the ground.

The car window slid down, a young man with blonde hair inside spat gum at Vera, cursing disdainfully, "Useless cripple!"

"Cripples like you should die!"

Vera stared blankly into his eyes, filled with disgust as if looking at trash, her mind buzzing, surrounded by onlooking pedestrians.

At this moment, Noah Grant strode toward her, bending down, his deep eyes scrutinized her carefully, his low voice filled with concern, "Vera, are you hurt?"

Vera subconsciously shook her head.

"Can you get up?" he asked again.

Vera pressed her palms against the asphalt, trying to get up, Noah grabbed her arm, exerting a bit of force, helped her up.

"Useless cripple, why don’t you just die! You all should die! Damn!" the young man in the sports car continued cursing.

He had antisocial tendencies, hating the disabled, stray animals, and all marginalized groups.

Noah Grant released Vera, striding toward the red sports car.

Seeing Noah’s intention to beat him, the young man finally chickened out, trying to escape by rolling down the window.

Noah thrust his arm through the car window forcefully, pulled the inside door handle, yanked the door open, and the next moment, dragged the young man out by the collar.

Noah mercilessly punched him in the face!

Meanwhile, a Maybach approached rapidly from the distance, quickly reaching Vera’s side.