Achan didn’t immediately recognize the voice’s owner. Her hand twitched, grasping a piece of fabric. The material felt smooth and cool from the night air, lowering the temperature of her palm.
“I’m hot…” she mumbled.
Bai Xiuming lowered his gaze to the sleeve she clutched, then shifted his eyes back to Achan’s face.
Due to her high fever, her cheeks were flushed, her almond eyes half-open in a daze, and her lips, vivid as if painted with fine rouge, glowed with an alluring hue.
Bai Xiuming placed his hand on her forehead, surprised to find her face so small it fit within his palm.
His cool palm brought a sigh of comfort from Achan, but the hand soon withdrew.
Reluctant to let it go, Achan weakly grabbed at his sleeve, her arm too feeble to lift properly, managing only a couple of tugs.
Bai Xiuming stood, scanning the room. There was no water or medicine. If he hadn’t come today, tomorrow he might have found a corpse.
He turned to leave, but Achan seemed to sense his departure, struggling to open her eyes. “Father, are you here to take Achan?”
Her voice was so faint she could barely hear it herself, yet Bai Xiuming paused.
“Where’s Mother? Didn’t she come? Does she not want Achan anymore?”
“Feng Yang,” Bai Xiuming called softly, his voice low but carrying to Feng Yang downstairs.
“Sir?”
“Fetch a doctor.”
Feng Yang hesitated for a moment before turning to leave.
Jiang Kai, still confused, heard Bai Xiuming say, “Get a basin of water from the courtyard.”
“Yes, sir.” Jiang Kai obediently went to fetch water.
By the time Feng Yang had dragged an old doctor, who was soaking his feet at home, from a clinic on the next street, Jiang Kai stood at the door of Ji Chan’s second-floor room, watching their Commander neatly fold a wrung-out cloth and place it on Ji Chan’s forehead.
Jiang Kai grew increasingly uneasy. Weren’t they here to investigate this person? Why were they tending to a patient?
The old doctor, carrying his medicine chest, was hauled to Ji Chan’s door. Seeing the pitch-black house, he nearly thought he’d been nabbed by bandits.
Only when he was forced up to the second floor and a faint light illuminated the patient’s face did he relax.
He vaguely remembered this young woman, rare for her frail constitution at such a young age, especially with her striking beauty, hard to forget.
The old doctor glanced quickly at the two others in the room. One looked like a ruthless bandit, fierce and menacing.
The man by the window, however, seemed like a noble son from a great family, exuding an air of refined elegance.
What was their connection to this girl?
Bai Xiuming’s cold gaze swept over, and the old doctor, startled, dared not think further. Setting down his heavy medicine chest, he took out a pulse pillow and approached to check Achan’s pulse.
While he took her pulse, the room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the oil lamp.
After finishing, the old doctor’s furrowed brow didn’t ease. He said to Bai Xiuming, “This young lady likely hasn’t rested well for days, depleting her vital energy. Her constitution is weaker than most, making her more susceptible to evil influences, causing this persistent fever.”
Bai Xiuming was concise. “How do we treat it?”
“I’ll prescribe a formula. Later, get a packet of fever-reducing herbs from my clinic. Boil three bowls of water down to one and have her drink it.”
The old doctor explained carefully. Seeing no paper or brush in the room, he recited the prescription for them to confirm, then took Feng Yang back to fetch the herbs.
He thought his job was done after getting the herbs, but Feng Yang wouldn’t let him go, insisting he return, even giving him a five-tael silver ingot as a consultation fee.
With no choice, the old doctor left the silver at home, reassured his family, and hurriedly followed Feng Yang back.
Feng Yang’s reasoning was simple: keeping the doctor meant someone could brew the medicine, sparing him and Jiang Kai the task.
Jiang Kai’s strength could easily crush the medicine pot, so the job would likely fall to Feng Yang, who, never having been sick, had no idea how to brew medicine.
For the old doctor, it was no trouble. He’d been handling herbs since childhood and was well accustomed to it.
Fortunately, Achan had a medicine pot and brewing stove from past illnesses. The old doctor found them and deftly began brewing.
About a quarter of an hour later, he carried a bowl of medicine up to the second floor.
He glanced at the two men standing like door gods at the entrance, then at the dignified nobleman in the room, before handing the medicine to Bai Xiuming.
“Sir, the medicine has cooled a bit and can be fed directly.”
Bai Xiuming frowned slightly but took the bowl.
Seeing Achan’s frail state, he didn’t waste words asking her to sit up. Instead, he sat on the bed’s edge, one arm lifting her limp body.
Achan’s soft form leaned against Bai Xiuming, her head resting on his broad shoulder, her disheveled black hair spilling over him, her eyes refusing to open.
“Open your mouth.”
Achan wrinkled her delicate nose, smelling the medicine, and refused to comply.
Finally, Bai Xiuming, out of patience, pried her mouth open with his left hand and poured the medicine from the bowl with his right.
Achan whimpered twice, her faint struggles ineffective.
Though his actions seemed rough, they were measured, the feeding slow. Achan was forced to swallow the bitter medicine, and soon the bowl was empty.
Handing the bowl to the old doctor nearby, Bai Xiuming released his grip on Achan.
As soon as he let go, Achan sniffled, as if suffering a great injustice, and began to sob quietly.
Bai Xiuming, expressionless, laid her boneless form back on the bed, letting her cry.
“When will the fever break?” he asked the old doctor, amid Achan’s sobs.
“At most, half an hour for the medicine to take effect.”
Bai Xiuming nodded. “Please stay another half hour.”
The old doctor agreed readily. “Of course.”
The medicine worked quickly. In about a quarter of an hour, Achan’s forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her temperature slightly dropped.
Before the old doctor could relax, her temperature rose again, even higher than before.
In his many years of practice, he’d never seen such a case. He checked Achan’s pulse again; it hadn’t changed much, and his medicine should have worked.
After more effort, the old doctor was sweating profusely, but Achan’s temperature wouldn’t drop. Her crying, which had briefly stopped, started again.
Bai Xiuming pinched the bridge of his nose. Sick as she was, she still found the energy to cry.
The old doctor, ashamed, bowed to Bai Xiuming. “Sir, I’ve done my best, but my skills are limited. I’m powerless.”
Bai Xiuming didn’t press him, only instructing Feng Yang, “Escort him back.”
Feng Yang nodded, leading the old doctor away.
With the doctor gone, Jiang Kai thought his lord was finally done. But then an object flew toward him. He caught it deftly—a token.
The token was jet black, adorned with a coiled dragon around a central “Ming” character.
It was Prince Ming’s token.
“Sir?” Jiang Kai held the token, puzzled.
“Go to the palace and fetch an imperial physician. Hurry.”
Even Jiang Kai, not one for overthinking, felt something was off. But he never disobeyed his lord’s orders, so he took the token and left.
With everyone gone, Achan grew restless. She reached for Bai Xiuming’s sleeve but grabbed his wrist instead. “I’m so hot… sob…”
Her small hand on his wrist burned with a fever far above normal. As she seemed about to press her whole body closer, Bai Xiuming gripped her hand in return.
A cool sensation passed through their clasped hands, gradually lowering Achan’s body temperature.
Bai Xiuming was using his inner energy to suppress the heat in her body—a temporary measure, not a cure.
Once his energy left her, the fever would return, but it at least gave his ears a brief respite.
Meanwhile, Jiang Kai, using his inner energy, raced to the palace at top speed. With Prince Ming’s token, he breached the palace gates and retrieved a night-duty imperial physician from the Imperial Medical Bureau.
As soon as the physician left the palace, the news reached the Emperor’s ears.
Not only the Emperor but anyone in the capital with connections learned of it. After all, opening the palace gates in the dead of night was no small matter.
At first, everyone thought something had happened to Prince Ming, but the imperial physician didn’t go to Prince Ming’s residence.
Then people recalled that Prince Ming’s adopted son also had the token, so it must be Bai Xiuming who was in trouble.
Before they could get excited, the physician didn’t go to Bai Xiuming’s residence either but was taken straight to Changping Lane.
Those who got the news were curious, who in Changping Lane could prompt Bai Xiuming to make such a fuss?
The summoned physician, surnamed Huang, came from a family of imperial doctors. From his great-grandfather to his father, all had served in the Imperial Medical Bureau, and even less-favored princes rarely got his services.
Huang had no desire to come, but when Jiang Kai asked at the bureau who had the best skills, the other junior physicians pointed to him, so he was forcibly dragged along.
Carried by Jiang Kai the whole way, Huang was set down only outside Ji Chan’s house.
Fortunately, years of practicing his family’s health-preserving techniques gave him a decent constitution, despite his modest cultivation, so he didn’t get sick from the jostling.
Feet on the ground, Huang scolded Jiang Kai with a stern face, “Truly an affront to civility.”
“Our Commander is inside, Physician Huang, please,” Jiang Kai said, ignoring him and pushing open the door.
Already at the doorstep, Huang, though reluctant, stepped inside.
On the second floor, seeing the famed adopted son of Prince Ming, Huang adjusted his robes and bowed. “This humble official, Huang Yao, greets Lord Bai.”
His gaze flicked to the woman on the bed, her hand clasped in Bai Xiuming’s.
He looked only once, not daring to linger. Surviving long in the palace relied on seeing and hearing nothing, ensuring a long life.
Bai Xiuming didn’t bother with pleasantries, standing to give Huang space. “She’s had a persistent fever. A doctor was called earlier, and after taking medicine, her temperature dropped slightly but soon rose again.”
As their hands parted, the coolness in Achan’s body faded, and she grew restless again.
Huang, accustomed to such patients, was unfazed. He quickly checked Achan’s pulse and asked for the dregs of the recently brewed medicine.
After examining the dregs and comparing them to Achan’s pulse, he said to Bai Xiuming, “The doctor you called was skilled; the medicine was fine. But this young lady’s constitution is too weak to absorb its effects. For now, I’ll use acupuncture to lower her fever.”
Huang pulled out a set of silver needles and, while Achan was whimpering, swiftly inserted them into her hands, feet, neck, and head.
Achan, who had been tossing on the bed, immediately stilled, though barely conscious, still aware of pain.
Huang removed a needle every so often, blood beads rolling down. After more than an hour, all the needles were removed, and Achan’s temperature finally dropped, her restlessness subsiding.
During the acupuncture, Huang fed her two prepared pills, so bitter they made Achan’s pupils contract.
“It’s done. Ensure she doesn’t catch a chill; she shouldn’t have a fever tonight. Another session tomorrow morning will suffice,” he said, packing his needles.
Then, recalling something, he looked at Bai Xiuming. “Did you use inner energy to suppress her fever, Lord Bai?”
“Yes.”
“Her meridians are blocked, this method shouldn’t be used often.”
“I understand.”
Huang glanced at Achan again, gesturing for Bai Xiuming to step outside.
They went downstairs, and Huang spoke again. “I don’t know this young lady’s relation to you, but her health is extremely poor. A few more fevers like this could shorten her lifespan.”
How long Ji Chan lived seemed irrelevant to him.
He didn’t explain, only asking, “Can it be treated?”
Huang shook his head. “I can’t think of a treatment yet. Her body is too frail for many tonics, as they might overwhelm her.
The best approach now is careful nurturing. She mustn’t overexert or catch cold, should stay cheerful, avoid staying up late, and be mindful of her diet—more hot soups, fewer cold foods.”
He added, “Oh, and during her monthly cycle, she may experience severe pain, so take extra care.”
Huang listed a litany of restrictions, overwhelming to hear. Jiang Kai, standing at the door, rolled his eyes—this girl was so hard to care for, thankfully not their lord’s burden.
Bai Xiuming listened quietly, his expression unchanged.
After finishing, Huang continued, “Even with good care, she may only live another twenty or thirty years.”
“Do you know what causes her weakness?” Bai Xiuming finally asked.
Huang shook his head, then hesitated. “Her frailty is unnatural, not from poisoning, but almost like… a curse from legend.”
He’d only heard of curses, never seen one. Such matters were for cultivators, not him.
Bai Xiuming was slightly surprised but nodded. “Understood. Thank you, Physician Huang.”
“You’re too kind, Lord Bai.”
Since another acupuncture session was needed in the morning and Achan’s home had no spare rooms, Bai Xiuming had Feng Yang take Huang to an inn.
After seeing Huang off, he returned to the second floor. Achan was sleeping peacefully.
During her fever, Achan had slipped into a half-introspective state. The fox within her was as restless as she, tossing uncomfortably.
The chains on the fox rattled with piercing sounds until, just moments ago, the chain on its left foreleg snapped.
Achan watched as the black chain turned into incomprehensible symbols, exploding and vanishing into the void. The moment it broke, her body felt lighter.
Staring blankly at the scene within her inner landscape, she wondered, had one of the shackles binding her vanished?
Achan realized her sudden fever might not be mere illness but tied to the broken chain.
What had she done to trigger this?
She thought hard. Recently, the only notable act was helping Lady Xiao Lin, aiding her revenge and sending her to the underworld’s cycle.
From others’ perspectives, Achan’s actions weren’t exactly virtuous. Could that be the cause?
She couldn’t be sure, but for her, it was at least good news.
The mysterious shackles on her didn’t seem as impossible to remove as she’d feared, offering a glimmer of hope.
Achan was elated, but her body was too exhausted for more than a faint reaction.
After the chain shattered, the introspective state faded, and her consciousness sank into dreams.
The next morning, during Huang’s acupuncture, Achan didn’t wake.
It wasn’t until evening, with the sky half-glowing red from the sunset, that she opened her eyes.
She’d slept so long she was woken by hunger.
The room was quiet. Achan lay in bed a while, stretching lazily, twisting left and right, before deciding to get up and make food, lest her body give out.
As she propped herself up, she noticed someone in her room.
Bai Xiuming sat by the window, his calm gaze fixed on her, having taken in her earlier writhing like a twisted rope.
“You… why are you here?” Achan’s eyes widened, pulling the blanket up as she warily watched him.
“You were sick last night.”
Achan vaguely recalled that, during her worst moments, someone had been by her side.
She’d thought it was a dreamy because she believed it was her father. But it wasn’t a dream, and it wasn’t her father—it was Bai Xiuming.
“Did you also get a doctor for me?” she asked tentatively, tasting lingering bitterness in her mouth.
She recalled fragments, Bai Xiuming feeding her medicine.
“Yes.”
He didn’t mention the previous night or the imperial physician.
Achan had no idea that, after last night’s palace gate opening for the physician, she’d caught the attention of many.
“Bai Xiuming, thank you.” It was the first time Achan used his name, thanking him earnestly.
“No need. I came to ask you something and happened to find you ill.”
Achan immediately guessed why Bai Xiuming sought her. She’d prepared for this, but her sudden illness had delayed things.
“Sir, the food’s here,” Feng Yang’s voice called from downstairs.
Bai Xiuming stood to leave, pausing at the door to say lightly, “Get dressed and come eat.”
While Achan tidied herself upstairs, Feng Yang set out the food brought from the Mirror Division, including the hot porridge Bai Xiuming had specifically requested.
The porridge, cooked by the bureau’s chef for over an hour, had rice grains burst open, topped with a fragrant layer of rice oil.
“Something happened at the division today?” Bai Xiuming glanced at Feng Yang, noticing a bloodstain on his left ear, and asked.
“A scout reported spotting the snow needle snake. I led a team to pursue, but it escaped again.”
It left a cut on his ear during its escape.
Frowning, he added, “The snow needle snake’s been showing up frequently. I suspect the mastermind is sowing confusion.”
Footsteps sounded, and both men at the table turned.
Achan descended the stairs slowly. Instead of pinning her hair, she braided it to hang in front, wearing a light green jacket and skirt embroidered with orchids. Fresh from illness, she looked delicate and pitiable, stirring sympathy.
Feng Yang glanced once and quickly looked away. Bai Xiuming kept watching her.
Translator's Note:
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