Last night, upon hearing from her father that a eunuch was staying in the temple, Lin Fang couldn’t help but feel curious. A eunuch—someone she had only seen on television—was he really as described in books and shows, with a smooth chin, a high-pitched voice, and effeminate mannerisms? She thought to herself that she’d find an opportunity to catch a glimpse of this eunuch from afar.
Every morning and before bed, the elderly monk Zixing would come to check Lin Fang’s pulse. That morning, while taking her pulse, Lin Fang excitedly asked the old monk about the eunuch, Zheng Gonggong. The monk chuckled and said, “A eunuch isn’t much different from an ordinary man, except that his speech and behavior might be a bit more delicate, like a woman’s. If you’re really curious, you can follow your second grandmother when she comes to check on him.”
Lin Fang asked, “Is that allowed? He’s someone from the palace—wouldn’t he mind an outsider getting close?”
The old monk teased her, “Haha, is there anything in this world that our Fang’er is afraid of?”
Lin Fang retorted indignantly, “It’s not fear—just a little hesitation!” Then she grinned mischievously, “So, when is Second Grandmother coming? Can I really go with her?”
Releasing her wrist, the monk flicked her forehead lightly and scolded, “Would I joke about something so important? Just say you’re assisting your grandmother. After all, you do know a thing or two about medicine—it’s plausible enough.”
Rubbing her forehead, Lin Fang pouted, “What do you mean, ‘a thing or two’? I can recite more prescriptions than you! I’ve memorized all of Second Grandmother’s medical texts—dare to challenge me?”
The monk laughed heartily, “Reciting books isn’t impressive. If you’re so capable, brew me a remedy yourself!”
Lin Fang faltered but refused to back down. “Hmph! I might not recognize herbs, but others do. I can dictate a prescription, and someone else can prepare it!”
The monk scoffed, “Relying on others doesn’t count as skill.”
Lin Fang rolled her eyes. “That’s just splitting hairs. Results matter, not the process. Officials don’t do everything themselves, yet achievements are still credited to them. Even the emperor—locked deep in the palace—is praised as wise. Do you think he personally accomplished everything?”
The monk quickly hushed her, whispering, “Shh! Don’t speak carelessly. Politics is complicated, and the emperor isn’t someone we commoners should discuss. With palace officials staying here now, one wrong word could bring trouble.”
Realizing her mistake, Lin Fang clapped a hand over her mouth and nodded vigorously, inwardly scolding herself. She had grown too complacent in this peaceful life, forgetting that this was an era where careless words could lead to persecution—nothing like the free society of her past life.
Seeing her distress, the monk softened and changed the subject. “Still, I’ve always wondered—if you can’t recognize medicinal herbs, how do you spot poisonous ones so easily?”
Lin Fang giggled. “Because they’re fun! Poisonous plants are memorable, unlike boring proper herbs.” Though she herself was puzzled—why did she have such a sharp memory for toxins?
The “poisonous herbs” the monk referred to were plants like swelling flowers, numbing leaves, and itching grass—natural substances that could cause discomfort. Whenever the monk teased her, Lin Fang would retaliate with these, leaving him temporarily miserable.
Remembering the time the monk’s face had swollen like a steamed bun, his eyes reduced to slits, Lin Fang burst into laughter—first a quiet chuckle, then uncontrollable giggles, until she was clutching her stomach in mirth.
“Fang’er, what’s so amusing? Share it with your grandfather!”
Just as the two were laughing, Lin Zhongsi and his wife, Tong-shi, entered the room. Lin Zhongsi eagerly approached Lin Fang, but Tong-shi pulled him back, warming her hands by the brazier first. Lin Zhongsi sheepishly followed suit, rubbing his hands before circling the fire to dispel the chill from his clothes.
Once settled, Tong-shi beckoned Lin Fang, who obediently offered her wrist. Despite the monk’s care, Tong-shi still made time to personally check her granddaughter’s health.
After examining her pulse and complexion, Tong-shi nodded approvingly. “Good. You’ve been resting well—your pulse is stronger.”
Lin Fang blinked innocently and whispered, “Second Grandmother, are you here to see Zheng Gonggong?”
Tong-shi smiled. “Yes. Why? What are you scheming?”
Lin Fang pleaded softly, “Can I come with you? I’m curious—what’s a eunuch really like?”
Tong-shi frowned. “There’s nothing special to see. He’s just like any other man.” The differences weren’t something a young girl should observe—nor would the eunuch allow it.
Lin Zhongsi, overhearing, shared his wife’s disapproval. He glared at the monk, blaming him for putting such ideas in his granddaughter’s head. The monk sighed inwardly—Lin Fang, with her past-life memories, understood far more than they realized, but he couldn’t explain.
Lin Fang clarified, “I heard eunuchs have smooth chins, shrill voices, and act effeminately. I just want to see for myself.”
Relieved, Tong-shi agreed. Better to take her openly than risk her sneaking around.
After changing into a plain outer robe, Lin Fang followed the three elders to Zheng Gonggong’s quarters. Left behind, the maid Liu murmured prayers, hoping the young miss wouldn’t offend the eunuch.
During the examination, Lin Fang lingered nearby, holding the medicine chest until her arms ached.
Zheng Gonggong, awake today, noticed her glances and smiled. “What’s your name?”
Startled but unafraid, Lin Fang answered clearly, “Lin Fang.”
She studied him closely. Contrary to legends, he wasn’t excessively aged—his skin was well-maintained, his voice only slightly softer than a man’s, and his chin completely hairless.
When he repeated his question, Lin Fang wondered if his hearing was failing—until he murmured, “Lin Fang… my granddaughter was also named Lin Fang.”
Lin Fang’s heart ached. “Don’t grieve, Gonggong. If you search diligently, you’ll find her.”
He shook his head. “She’s gone. I’ll never see her again.”
Lin Fang comforted him, though her words were as much for her own lost family.
As Tong-shi finished prescribing, Zheng Gonggong asked, “Lin Fang, would you visit me again?”
Lin Fang nodded. “I’d be happy to, though I tire easily.”
His voice warmed. “You won’t trouble me.”
Unnoticed by the others, the monk’s eyes snapped open.
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