Chapter 156: Roommates

Two days later, the prescription reached Qi Biao. Half a month later, Master Shen and Qi Shi returned, just as the year-end approached.

“How is it?”

Master Shen stared at the prescription for a full hour without saying a word. The old monk knew concocting the antidote wouldn’t be easy, but he couldn’t bear the silence and anxiously urged Master Shen. Waiting idly was unbearable.

“There might still be a way,” Master Shen muttered, still lost in thought.

The old monk grew impatient. “If there’s a way, then act quickly! Fang’er’s condition worsens by the day.”

Master Shen suddenly snapped, his voice louder than the old monk’s. “Do you think I don’t know to hurry? But the antidote is difficult to prepare—it requires over seventy ingredients! Where can we gather them all at once? Even if we do, it’ll take time for the antidote to take effect. Fang’er doesn’t have that much time left!”

The old monk was stunned. After finally obtaining the antidote, it was already too late. He muttered in disbelief, “How… how could this be?”

After another moment of silence, Master Shen murmured to himself, “But it’s not entirely hopeless.”

The old monk grabbed Master Shen’s collar and roared, “Speak plainly in one go!”

Master Shen didn’t take offense, only offering a bitter smile. “Plainly? I dare to think of this method, but it’s nearly impossible to execute.”

The old monk scoffed. “What could possibly be beyond your capabilities?”

Pushing the old monk’s hand away, Master Shen sighed. “The only one who can save Fang’er now is the second legitimate son of Prince Xuanhe. When he was born, a concubine poisoned him, nearly killing him. Fortunately, the prince’s brother-in-law managed to suppress the toxin in time. Over the past twenty years, I’ve administered hundreds of antidotes to him, including some potent poisons to counteract the toxins. His blood now contains traces of multiple poisons.”

The old monk’s eyes widened. “Are you saying his blood contains the components to neutralize Fang’er’s poison?”

Master Shen nodded. “Not only that, but it would also benefit Fang’er’s overall health.”

Using human blood as an antidote—the old monk had only heard of such a thing. But Prince Xuanhe was the emperor’s only brother, the sole prince in the court. Who would dare use his legitimate son’s blood? Who would even dare ask? The old monk fell silent.

“Is there truly no other way?” The old monk slumped in despair. Seeing Master Shen rise to leave, he hurriedly blocked his path. All hope now rested on Master Shen, and he feared the man might abandon the task out of fear.

Master Shen stopped and smiled bitterly. “Where else would I go? To find the one whose blood can save her.”

The old monk frowned. “That’s the legitimate son of Prince Xuanhe—royal blood! How could he possibly offer his own blood for a mere girl?”

Master Shen shook his head. “Not necessarily. Fang’er grew up under his watch. He’s the one who sought me out to cure her. Now, it’s up to him to decide. Fang’er’s life is in his hands.”

“What? Are you saying Qi—is the second legitimate son of Prince Xuanhe?”

Though the old monk didn’t finish the name, Master Shen nodded, his face heavy with worry. “Given his feelings for Fang’er, he won’t hesitate to use his blood. But though he seems estranged from Prince Xuanhe, the prince only has two legitimate sons. He’d never allow just anyone to use his son’s blood. If Prince Xuanhe finds out, Fang’er won’t escape unscathed.”

“Then… what do we do?” The old monk could only repeat the same question.

“What else can we do? It’s up to him.” Bypassing the old monk, Master Shen left the temple and headed straight for Qi Manor.

Lin Fang now spent nearly all her time in bed. Before the year-end, Li Cuimei had come several times to take her home, but the old monk refused each time. Lin Fang would just smile and say she preferred the quiet of the mountain, where she could sleep undisturbed. But the more she insisted, the more uneasy Li Cuimei grew. The feeling that her daughter and the old monk were hiding something gnawed at her until she finally confronted Lin Fang.

“Fang’er, I’m your mother. I know your temperament. Tell me the truth—is something wrong with your health? Are you hiding here to spare us worry?”

Realizing she couldn’t hide it any longer, Lin Fang admitted, “Mother, don’t blame the old monk. I forced him to lie to you and Father, saying the mountain air would help me. But the truth is, I came here because I’m growing weaker and didn’t want you to worry.”

Li Cuimei stroked her daughter’s hair, her heart aching. “Oh, you foolish child. Do you think this spares us any worry? Not seeing you only makes us fret more.”

“Mother, I’m sorry.” Lin Fang fought back tears. She longed to hold her mother’s hand but resisted. Her body was growing colder by the day. Even with charcoal braziers in every corner, two thick quilts, and three warming bottles in her bed, she still felt chilled. If her mother touched her icy hands, the worry would be unbearable.

Li Cuimei pleaded again, “Then come home with me, won’t you? No one will disturb you there.”

Lin Fang agreed. “Alright, I’ll go home with you.” She sensed she might not last much longer—perhaps not even past the new year. She wanted to go home.

As they packed, Qi Biao suddenly appeared. “Aunt, could you delay taking Fang’er home for a few days? Master Shen has found a new medicine that could help her, but it requires a quiet space and a monk’s chanting to activate its effects.”

Li Cuimei frowned. “I’ve never heard of medicine needing chanting to work. What kind of remedy is this?”

Qi Biao explained, “Fang’er suffers from a heart ailment. The chanting clears the mind, allowing the medicine to take full effect when the spirit is at peace.”

Li Cuimei nodded. “Hmm, that makes sense. But why have you come at such a time?”

“Oh, I’ve been granted a month’s leave until the Lantern Festival. Passing through Shengcheng, I planned to fetch Wu’er. When I arrived, Master Shen was discussing the new medicine with Uncle. Learning you’d come for Fang’er, I hurried up to inform you, saving you the trip back and forth.”

As he spoke, Qi Biao glanced at Lin Fang, who had fallen asleep again. Though her face was mostly covered, he could see how pale and gaunt she’d become. His heart clenched.

When Lin Fang next awoke, it was midnight. For once, she didn’t feel cold—instead, she was enveloped in warmth, as if surrounded by fire. But her limbs felt restrained, and her scalp itched. When she tried to scratch, she found she couldn’t move her hands.

“Awake?”

A voice above startled her into stillness. It sounded familiar, but her mind was blank.

“Don’t be afraid, Fang’er. It’s me—Yi-ge.”

“Yi-ge?” It took her a long moment to process.

“Yes, it’s me. You were freezing, so I warmed you up. Don’t worry—Aunt Liu is fast asleep. She won’t notice.”

Warmed her up? Lin Fang shifted slightly and realized why she felt so warm. She was being held from behind by Qi Biao, her hands clasped in his, her feet tucked between his legs, her head resting on his arm.

Her face burned. How could this be? A young woman, being held like this by a man!

Though behind her, Qi Biao could see her expression clearly in the dark. Sensing her embarrassment, he released her limbs. Even he didn’t understand why he’d climbed into her bed—only that seeing her shiver had compelled him. Apart from his mother and younger sister, he’d never been this close to anyone.

Freed, Lin Fang scooted forward, only to shiver as the warmth vanished. The quilt, sized for her small frame, barely covered Qi Biao’s tall form. Her movement let in a draft, and she instinctively curled into a ball.

“Don’t move—you’ll catch cold.” Qi Biao pulled her back, tucking the quilt around them. Lin Fang lay stiffly, not daring to move.

Qi Biao, too, was stiff from holding still so long. To break the silence, he asked, “Fang’er, you’ve slept all day. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Ah? Oh, no.” Even if she were, she couldn’t think of food now.

“You should eat. Your body’s weak—going too long without food isn’t good.”

Lin Fang forced a laugh. “Really, Yi-ge, I’m not hungry.”

“At least try this. Qi Shi learned to make a new pastry—sweet, sour, and soft. I thought you’d like it.” Reaching to the bedside, he brought a piece to her lips.

With the food already at her mouth, refusing would seem petty. But eating in this position was awkward. She struggled to sit up, and Qi Biao adjusted with her, still holding her from behind, his legs encircling her, the quilt wrapped snugly around them.

The pastry was bite-sized, just as he’d described—sweet, sour, and soft. But after two, Lin Fang shook her head. As her health declined, her senses had sharpened. The pastry carried a strange, unplaceable aftertaste.

Qi Biao insisted, “Two isn’t enough. Eat more—it’ll help you sleep.”

“No, it’s… fishy.” That was it—a faint fishiness.

“Fine. Qi Shi’s cooking can’t compare to the old monk’s. Starting tomorrow, he’ll make your snacks.”

Setting the pastry aside, he handed her a small flask. “This double-layered flask keeps tea warm. I filled it before bed—it’s just the right temperature now. A sip will cleanse your palate.”

Her throat dry from the pastry, Lin Fang reached for the flask and sipped. Hawthorn and honey—the sweet-tart flavor washed away the odd aftertaste.

When she tried for more, it was empty. Qi Biao took the flask. “Don’t drink too much at night—it’ll disturb your sleep.”

Setting it aside, he began massaging her head and back, his hands firm yet gentle. Slowly, Lin Fang drifted back to sleep.