First-Class Lawyer - Chapter 193

Jack White was secretly admitted to the Spring Ivy Hospital nearest to the mountain pine forest.

His attending doctor also received a copy of the treatment plan.

Police officers surrounded the old specialist, imploring him to do his best to save Jack White, which would be of help to the case.

Even so, the old specialist had already done all he could. He spread his arms, palms up, saying, “There’s really nothing more I can do.”

He had followed the treatment plan to the tee. The only thing that the old specialist could do for Jack White was fine-tune and fix little details.

“He was too harsh on himself. The medicine he used was too strong; he wasn’t paying attention to how much his body could bear.” The old specialist sighed. “Hallucinations and genetic reversal can result in memory confusion. You also can’t rule out other, worse possibilities.”

“Then…”

“We’ll have to see how today goes.”

Then, Jack White’s heart stopped beating thrice before midday even came, giving everyone anticipating his recovery a great fright.

Doctors and nurses hastened back and forth, eventually just waiting it out in the resuscitation room.

At 10 a.m., Spring Ivy Hospital 7, a long row of lights along the special operating rooms went out almost simultaneously.

The door transporting the autonomous stretchers slowly opened, and the elderly victims, not yet out of anaesthesia after surgery, lay on stretchers and were moved safely along the tracks.

The doctors emerged one by one, removing their masks, and despite the fatigue on their faces, they didn’t forget to inform the people waiting that ‘all went well’.

Cheers instantly flooded the area outside the operating rooms.

Eunice dashed to her father’s study as soon as she received the news.

“Dad—”

Devore Yves lifted his light-coloured eyes, holding up a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to wait.

He sat inclined forwards against the edge of the wide office desk with an earpiece on one side, toying with a chess piece in his hand. He listened to the report from the other end of the call, quietly looking at the vintage chessboard he had custom-built onto the tabletop.

She didn’t know what the other party conveyed, but he placidly made a sound of acknowledgement and asked, “What time will it be posted, is it good timing?”

He listened for a while more and clicked his tongue, seemingly dissatisfied. “We’ve already been working together for more than two decades; how are you even dumber than my son.”

Eunice pointedly coughed with a speechless look.

Devore Yves slid a look at her, laughing soundlessly, then told the other end, “Euni is down with a throat infection.”

Eunice arched an eyebrow, mouthing, “Who is on the line?”

“The two dumb assistants that you hired for me,” said Yves.

“…”

Both Eunice and the people over the comms began coughing.

Mr Devore Yves was the picture of composure. He continued to talk to his assistants, “Alright, how good are you at telling stories? Pretend you are sharing stories and release them one by one. As for the timing…”

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On the other end, the two assistants whispered in short discussion, hesitant.

Wasn’t it a bit inappropriate to be… doing funny stuff while the lawyers were busy with the trial? It wouldn’t have been an issue if they weren’t acquainted, but these lawyers were considered on the same side as us, no?

But the assistants who had just been criticised as dummies wimped out, not quite daring to voice their thoughts.

Mr Yves, the wily old fox that he was, could read their thoughts just from the change in their breathing alone. “Are you worried about the lawyers’ side?”

“Mn…” The assistants only dared to vocalise a hum.

“Ease your mind; we’ve already discussed it before. What are you fretting for when even the two lawyers in question are not?”

Devore Yves cut the line, then waved Eunice over. “Come in. What is it? What’s the hurry?”

“Have you heard the news from Hospital 7?” Eunice’s heels clicked in a crisp staccato as she came in.

“I did.” Devore Yves nodded.

“Was the call just now about that?” Eunice asked.

“It was not, actually.” Yves said, “We were considering how to pre-emptively build momentum before closing in on the Manson boys. We have to clue in those still in the dark. Ease them into it so that when the truth is exposed, they would have had time to digest it.”

“If you’re doing that…” Eunice said, “You still have to take care not to give the Manson brothers wriggle room.”

“Yes. I had a brief chat with those two lawyers beforehand and we agreed that our best opportunity is the start of the trial. Because the case is fundamentally tied to the Manson brothers. Once it commences, it won’t be easy to pull back—even if they catch wind of it.”

Eunice narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you always despise talking to the younger generation? When did you secretly get in touch with them?”

Mr Yves burst out laughing. “You’ve wronged me. Have I ever shown impatience when talking to you?”

Her lips curled. “That’s different. I’m your offspring.”

Yves, “Oh? Does being my offspring guarantee easy conversation? Why don’t you ask your brother and see if he concurs.”

Eunice, “…”

Erm… the poor little idiot.

She spent two seconds in commiseration before turning the subject. “Right, dad, I came to ask you if it would be better to keep quiet or broadcast the news of the elderlies’ successful surgeries? I don’t know whether this will alert the Manson brothers to the fact that we can fully treat it.”

Yves fiddled with the chess piece. Instead of answering her directly, he asked with a wry smile, “Despite all that is being done behind the scenes, you can’t say a thing and even have to watch the two Manson squirts climb in power and throw their weight around daily. Don’t you find it suffocating?”

“It’s still bearable,” Eunice said with a cool head.

Yves’ smile deepened. “Don’t consider it as the person in charge of Spring Ivy Group. Set all your obligations aside. What do you think.”

Eunice chortled. She said bluntly, “It’s killing me.”

Yves nodded.

He straightened up, picked a random point on the board, then tossed the piece in his hand onto it. “There are many who feel the same as you. How can we let our own suffocate in the silence? It’s time for us to make a splash.”

With that, he winked at Eunice. “Remember. The bigger the splash, the better.”

Eunice immediately cottoned on, dragging out her ohhh. “The more we hype up the news that we’ve treated those elderlies, that we have the perfect treatment in our grasp, then, given the Manson brothers’ arrogance… the more they’ll believe that it’s just a bluff.”

“Smart girl.” Yves smiled.

Five minutes later, every media outlet had massive headlines like ‘Spring Ivy Hospital Saves the Day’, dramatising an account of how Spring Ivy saved the dying victims.

The masses were actually the most realistic. They were essentially bystanders, uninvolved from the matter, so what they gleaned were the results as they were:

Were the Elderly Bobblehead victims on the brink of death? Yes.

Did they manage to pull through? Yes.

Was it thanks to Spring Ivy’s care? Yes.

The three positive answers were more than enough to sway them.

At once, the public goodwill towards Spring Ivy Hospital sky-rocketed. The thunder previously stolen by the infection treatment centre returned, and investors who lined up on the rooftops of tall buildings silently climbed down.

Those with vested interest, such as the Mansons and the Cliffs, viewed the news differently.

First, they tried to pry answers from the media outlets.

Only to discover that they too only knew as much as what was stated in the news. There were no details on the treatment plan nor the recovery status of those victims—be it hanging on a thread, or whether there was hope for full recovery… they couldn’t be sure of anything.

Then, they tried to get inside information on Spring Ivy.

Only to, again, discover that Spring Ivy Hospital 7 had moved those elderly victims into private wards.

The private ward was located on the top floor of the inpatient wing, with a separate lift and password, inaccessible to all but a select group of authorised medical staff and immediate family members.

This instantly reassured the Mansons and the others.

For if the elderly had truly recovered and were out of critical condition, then what was stopping them from putting it out there for the world to see? This level of secrecy proved that they must be covering up something.

People with more twists and turns in their mind tended to be mistrustful of what they saw.

They judged the situation by what they would have done. They believed it more likely that Spring Ivy Hospital had not yet found a way to treat them. They were grasping at straws to sustain the elderlies’ lives, which was why they didn’t dare leave them out in the open.

This was the proverbial killing of two birds with one stone. Both Eunice and Old Fox were deeply satisfied with the results.

On the sixth floor of the genetics building in Spring Ivy Hospital HQ, the indicator light of the special operating rooms stayed on for the entire night, still not yet going out.

Joe closed the hologram of his smart device in the waiting room, telling Gu Yan, “The surgeries at Hospital 7 have wrapped up. Three of the elderly victims have been placed in aseptic hoods and need to be monitored for a few more days, but the likelihood of any mishaps isn’t high. It went smoother for the rest of them; they’re out of critical condition.”

Still staring at the doors of the operating room, Gu Yan nodded. “That’s good.”

Compared to the elderly victims, their situation was trickier, and the surgeries consequently took much longer. After all, Ke Jin had been unwell for a long, long time, and the gene segment had been secretly buried inside Yan Suizhi for close to thirty years.

“Jack White has been found. Those elderly victims have also been settled. It means that today is going to be a good day, right?”

“Mn.”

“Ke Jin and the dean will come out safe and sound, too.” Midway, Joe suddenly chuckled, finding humour in trying times. “We’ve really stuck through thick and thin, even when it comes to surgeries, we wait it out together.”

The line of Gu Yan’s mouth moved.

His words were few and his expressions as well.

During the torturous wait, it was always Joe who broke the silence with a few words to boost the morale. Nevertheless, this didn’t bother Joe, for he was aware of what Gu Yan had been through in the past few days, and was also aware exactly how long it had been since he last got some shut-eye.

Joe was deeply acquainted with the feeling.

A short distance away, people came in and out of the nurses’ station. They had been through two shift rotations. The elevator doors opened and closed, and trolley after trolley of instruments and surgical tools were delivered.

Only they remained where they were seated.

Like a snapshot of all these years.

It was six in the afternoon.

The indicator light finally blinked out after a day and a night had passed.

The heavy metal doors soundlessly opened and Lin Yuan strode out. He didn’t speak, first raising his hand and forming a gesture.

It was a hand gesture universally understood across the alliance:

We have not let you down. All went well.

Joe collapsed back into his seat, tilting his head up to the ceiling.

Gu Yan stood frozen in place. He stared hard at Lin Yuan’s hand for several seconds, before suddenly clenching his fingers and turning his face away.

The sunset was magnificent at this time of the day, warm golden rays slanting in through the floor-to-ceiling windows like a most gentle caress.

Mercy of all mercies, at long last came the light at the end of the tunnel.