“You’re not her, not her… Miss, I was too abrupt.”
As Wanqing spoke, the man before her—his eyes brimming with sorrow, joy, and longing—suddenly dimmed with disappointment. His lips parted slightly, and his hand reached out again, as if truly noticing the difference between Wanqing and the person in his memory. “You’re not her,” he murmured, closing his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
Though he lay back down afterward, the despair in his gaze before he shut his eyes—as if the sky itself were collapsing—was filled with agony and hopelessness. Wanqing felt a pang of sorrow in her heart.
Though his rudeness had annoyed her slightly, seeing his once-vibrant expression turn ashen and lifeless softened her irritation. A scholarly-looking man stepped forward, placing the straw hat back on the man’s head, and whispered with concern, “It’s alright. Please extend your leg—I’ll tend to your wound now.”
“Thank you, miss.”
At her words, the man lay back, his voice hoarse and laden with emotion. He extended his leg, allowing her to treat his injury.
“Everyone, please leave. I prefer not to be disturbed while treating patients. Only Honglian will stay—the rest of you, step outside.”
Seeing Zhao Zhong bring over a small jar filled with twenty or thirty medicinal worms, Wanqing took it and set it aside. She glanced calmly at the others before instructing the three maids behind her.
“This…” Zhao Zhong and the others hesitated.
“All of you, leave.” The straw-hatted man’s raspy but firm voice cut through the air. Though weak, his tone carried an undeniable authority, and the men bowed respectfully before retreating.
The room was now silent, with only the two of them remaining.
“How did your leg come to be poisoned like this?”
As Wanqing cleaned the wound and applied the medicinal worms, she asked softly. For some reason, the way the man had looked at her gave her the impression that he was very familiar with her mother, Consort Hui—perhaps even intimately so, given the affectionate way he had referred to her.
Yet his face, and the wound on his leg… Staring at the poisoned injury, Wanqing couldn’t help but think of Lady Liu and her associates—all skilled in poisons. Could they have been the ones responsible?
“Ambushed by thieves. I was careless and took an arrow—never expected it to be poisoned.” The man sighed faintly, his voice tinged with melancholy. “For someone so young, you have remarkable skill. Who taught you?”
Wanqing smiled faintly. “I’m just a junior disciple of the Medicine Valley. Treating this kind of poison is nothing extraordinary.”
“Ah, that explains it. The disciples of Medicine Valley are all extraordinary—no wonder you’re so capable despite your youth.” He paused, then added, his voice still rough but warm, “Seeing you in palace attire… are you perhaps from the imperial household?”
“Uncle, you’re overthinking. Though I’m dressed like this, I’m no one from the palace. If I have any connection to the imperial family, it’s only through the Empress’s relatives.” She chuckled lightly, surprising herself with how candid she was being.
“I see.” He said nothing more, simply reclining as she continued treating his leg.
Though he stayed silent, Wanqing could almost feel his gaze on her from beneath the hat.
“Uncle, is there something on my face? Why do you, Scholar Wen earlier, and that Uncle Xu all look at me like that? Do we know each other?”
The man hesitated before answering, “No, it’s just… your appearance and attire resemble someone I know. They must have mistaken you for her.”
Wanqing didn’t press further, focusing instead on applying the acupuncture needles and massaging the acupoints around his wound. As the medicinal worms did their work, dark, foul-smelling blood oozed out.
“Honglian, fetch dampened soft paper to wipe away the poisoned blood.”
As the toxins were gradually expelled, Wanqing continued her ministrations, instructing her maid. The two worked diligently, clearing the tainted blood.
“Uncle, if you’re tired, you can lie down.”
The man’s leg trembled slightly under her touch, and his large hand resting on the bed clenched faintly. Sensing his pain, Wanqing handed him a pill.
“No need. I can endure this much.”
Though his suffering was evident, his voice remained steady.
“Very well.”
Seeing his stubborn endurance, Wanqing nodded and resumed her work, pressing harder to expel the remaining toxins and necrotic flesh.
Nearly two hours later, the basin beneath the bed was half-filled with blackened blood and dead tissue. The man had gritted his teeth through it all.
“Just a little longer, Uncle.”
With one hand massaging his muscles and the other wielding silver needles, she numbed the nerves around the wound to ease his pain.
Finally, when the blood ran red again, she removed the needles. The man shuddered as the pain returned but managed a weak thanks.
“The necrotic flesh and poisoned blood are gone, but residual toxins remain. A few more sessions, and your leg will be fully healed.”
After bandaging his wound with detoxifying herbs, Wanqing prepared to leave.
“Thank you, miss. Zhao Zhong, see Miss Mu out.”
Though still weak, the man’s spirits had improved. He struggled to sit up and called for his attendant.
“No need for the trouble. It’s late—we should return. Please, stay.”
Outside, Scholar Wen and Xu Liang invited her to dine, but Wanqing declined politely before departing with Honglian.
“Master, is your leg better now?”
Once Wanqing had left, Zhao Zhong and the others gathered around the bed where the man now sat without his hat.
“Much better. That girl’s hands are truly remarkable. The pain in my leg is nearly gone, and the tightness in my chest has eased.” He paused, then asked, “Zhao Zhong, are you certain she’s the second daughter of Marquis Mu’s household?”
To be continued…
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