The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 375 – Not That Way
Chapter 375 - 375 – Not That Way
There were less than a third of the students present in the classroom. Of that third, some were glued to their phones, and others were sound asleep. Very few were actually paying attention.
Most of them were only there for the credits.
Ever since John stopped teaching at Providence College, his Interest in Traditional Chinese Medicine class had become awkward and lifeless.
None of the replacement doctors Marvin arranged had John's charisma. None could capture the students' attention like he did.
After just a few sessions, student attendance dropped sharply.
To avoid the embarrassment of an empty classroom, the school linked the course to the credit system—just to keep some warm bodies in the seats.
But traditional medicine, on its own, could be dry and monotonous. Without engaging delivery, it was a guaranteed lullaby.
This was exactly the case now.
The man currently lecturing was in his thirties. He stood stiffly at the podium, reading slide after slide, word for word.
He had no passion, no spark—just a dull voice going through the motions, merely fulfilling a task assigned by the vice president.
At that moment, he was covering an important principle in traditional medicine: treating disease before it manifests.
"The ancient sages said: 'The best doctor treats disease before it arises. When he sees illness in the liver, he understands the liver is connected to the spleen, and so begins by strengthening the spleen. An ordinary doctor, unaware of the true root, simply treats the liver...'"
He finished reading.
Then offered a single bland explanation.
And just like that, the section was over.
John had been standing at the classroom door and heard everything clearly. He sighed inwardly.
This wasn't a class on traditional medicine—it was a damn hypnosis session.
All the popularity and excitement he had worked so hard to build were being wiped out.
"This isn't how the class is supposed to be," John muttered to himself, stepping forward into the room.
His voice was calm, but firm.
The drowsy students looked up in shock, recognizing that voice in an instant.
Then chaos.
Mr. Lopez was back!
Excitement rippled through the room. Some girls even stood up in glee, ready to offer the last of their lunch buns as a welcome-back gift to their beloved teacher.
Thankfully, John raised a hand, palm open, motioning for calm.
The crowd quieted immediately.
The stiff, stereotypical man who had been teaching watched all of this unfold. His face darkened.
He assumed this was just another troublemaking student stirring up the class.
With a cold snort, he said sarcastically, "Since I apparently don't know how to teach, why don't you come up here and show us how it's done?"
Every student had heard this line at some point. It was a classic—the teacher's go-to move when a class clown disrupted the lesson.
It usually meant the teacher was losing their patience.
This man didn't care if students slept, scrolled through their phones, or zoned out—as long as they didn't disrupt class discipline.
To him, this was about respect.
If John had known what the man was thinking, he would've sneered.
Respect belongs to teachers who take their jobs seriously—not those just collecting a paycheck.
John had learned from Marvin that the doctors assigned to teach weren't volunteers. They were getting paid—by both the hospital and the school.
Double pay. But this was the quality of their teaching?
Was it really that easy to make money now?
"If you don't know how to teach," John said, walking confidently to the platform, "then sit down and learn something."
The stiff man blinked, stunned by the arrogance. This guy really dared to stand up here and lecture him?
He made a mental note to report this disrespectful student to Charles Lee later and demand disciplinary action.
A troublemaker like this didn't deserve to be in Providence College. He'd ruin the school's reputation.
But that was for later.
For now, the man simply stepped aside, smirking coldly, prepared to watch John fail.
Let's see how long you last up there, he thought. The stage doesn't lie.
What he didn't notice was the sudden change in the students.
The room, once filled with boredom and disinterest, was now electric.
Everyone was staring at John—eyes wide, eager, attentive.
Because watching a good-looking, charismatic teacher who actually gave a damn was exciting in itself.
John smiled slightly and began.
"Since we just brought up the concept of 'treating before illness,' allow me to elaborate."
"But first... let me tell you a little story."
The classroom fell completely silent.
"You all know Bian Que—the legendary doctor. According to ancient records, a king once asked him, 'The three of you brothers are all skilled in medicine. Who is the best among you?'"
"Bian Que replied, 'My eldest brother is the best. My second brother is next. I'm the worst.'"
"The king was surprised. 'But you're the most famous. Why?'"
"Bian Que explained, 'My eldest brother treats illness before it ever takes form. Patients recover before they even know they were sick—so no one praises him.'"
"'My second brother treats illness in its earliest stages. The village folk think he's good with minor ailments—so he gets some credit.'"
"'As for me—I treat people when they're already in pain, when the illness is obvious and the family is panicking. When they recover, they shower me with praise. That's why I'm the most famous.'"
The room was quiet—completely absorbed.
John continued.
"This story explains what we mean by treating before illness. Bian Que's older brothers were both experts in this. They could recognize the early signs of disease and prevent it from worsening."
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"If you can handle the minor symptoms before they escalate, you prevent major illness. That's what we call precaution in modern medicine."
"So when the ancient texts mention the 'best doctor,' they mean the one who sees the progression of illness before it happens."
"For example—when he sees a liver disorder, he immediately understands that the next impact could be on the spleen. So he strengthens the spleen preemptively."
"But an ordinary doctor? He only treats the liver after the problem appears. He doesn't consider the next stage or how to stop it."
John looked around the room.
"That is the essence of treating before illness. That is what traditional medicine teaches us—and why we must take it seriously."
And with that, the lesson truly began.
