Page 113 of Depraved Boys

He took my pulse, pulled down my eyelids, studied my tongue, and made me lie on an examination table while he twisted me in various positions to test the strength of my muscles. The entire process took about ninety minutes, and I wondered if this was normal in Chinese medicine or just a quirk of Master Chang.

Afterward, he asked me if I was on any medications. I pulled out the baggie of prescriptions I had received from the hospital, along with my discharge notes.

He read the labels. “It’s no wonder you’re struggling. Most of these contain ingredients that will make you drowsy, and this one is a sleeping aid, which you should only take at bedtime.”

“I did—”

“But your stomach and liver qi have stagnated, your spleen is overactive, giving you a cumulative effect of headaches and drowsiness. This combination is suitable for convalescence, not calculations.”

My shoulders slumped. “If I don’t take them, the pain gets worse.”

“According to your discharge notes, you should be coming off them soon. I can help you with TCM, but the pain won’t go away immediately.”

“How bad will it be?”

“A background pain that will require paracetamol or ibuprofen only at night time if you need help to sleep.”

He scribbled down a list of things in Chinese characters. “Most practitioners give bags of herbs to prepare at home, but I’m assuming you’re a busy student and would prefer sachets of pre-boiled herbs?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright. The boiling process takes us four hours in-house. I can FedEx them to your school when I’ve finished.”

“That will be great. Thank you.” I placed my hands on the arms of my chair and readied myself to rise.

“You haven’t had your treatment, yet.” Master Chang raised his hand and ushered me to remain seated.

Sweat broke out across my brow, and my gaze darted around the room for signs of needles. The doctor guided me back to the examination table and made a few chiropractic adjustments to my neck, then pressed down on one of the bones in my ankle, explaining this was a technique called injury recall.

When he finally said it was time to go, relief whooshed through my lungs at having escaped the acupuncture needles. I headed for the door and bounded into the reception area, feeling as light as I had before my memories had disappeared.

Leopold stood. “How was it?”

Rolling my head from side to side, I grinned. “Very thorough. My head feels amazing.”

I handed the list to the receptionist, who went to some shelves and picked up a CD, and two bottles of supplements with instructions in English. She took down the address of the academy and said she would send out the boiled herbs in the evening.

“How much is it for today, please?” I reached into my purse.

“My treat. This place is on my list of authorized retailers.” Leopold pulled out a black credit card and froze.

“What’s wrong?” I turned to look in the direction of his gaze.

Two women strode through the door. One was a statuesque beauty about Mom’s age, whose golden hair hung in a severe bob. She wore a knee-length, emerald-silk coat tailored around her slim figure that flared out at the waist.

The second was our age and stood a few inches shorter than the first. It was clear they were related, as the girls, shoulder-length hair was the same shade of gold.

The older woman narrowed her eyes into emerald slits. “Leopold.”

He stiffened. “Mother.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Mrs. Brunswick glowered from Leopold and me as though personally insulted that we were in her presence.

The girl, who had to be his sister because of their physical similarities, bit down on her bottom lip, not even bothering to suppress her smile. Her aquamarine eyes shone with the kind of glee kids had in junior school when the teacher told off a hated classmate. I guessed this was another form of sibling rivalry.

“You’re supposed to be at school,” said Mrs. Brunswick.