I am the ancestor of traditional Chinese medicine in the Republic of China, and I became a fake daughter of a wealthy family.
On the first day, I paralyzed the wrist of the school bully.
The next day, I used three silver needles to make Gu's eldest grandson, who had been sentenced to death by Western medicine, stand up.
On the third day, the centenary-year-old man with red eyes, leaning on a cane, called me "Sister" in public.
Everyone thought I was just an 18-year-old girl who knew how to do some earthwork.
Until I used fluent English to refute the master of Kampo from Sakura Country at an international forum.
Until the TCM standards I took the lead in formulating were adopted by the WHO as global guidelines.
Until the formerly rebellious young master of the Gu family said seriously in front of the camera:
"My aunt said that Chinese medicine is not a slow doctor, but a lion that has not yet awakened."
They all asked me, why should I let a century-old wealthy family surrender?
I lowered my head and twisted the silver needle and smiled:
"This set of acupuncture techniques was taught to their ancestors by me personally eighty-seven years ago."
