It had been hard enough for the name of “Divine Doctor” to rise to prominence, only to be critiqued by this obscure and insignificant old doctor. How could she endure it?
“You’re the one who’s mediocre, so don’t look down on others.” Madam Zhou snorted coldly and said flatly.
For a doctor, the word “mediocre” was the greatest insult, and the old doctor immediately bristled.
“Mediocre? If I’m so incompetent, then find someone better.” He flung his sleeves and declared.
“Someone, see him…” Madam Zhou started to say.
The maid stomped her foot.
“Madam, Miss is still ill! You’re driving away the doctor—what kind of intentions do you have?” she cried out.
What kind of intentions do I have?
Weren’t you the one who said she was fine and merely asleep? And now it’s somehow my fault?
Madam Zhou was seething with anger.
The maid paid no attention to Madam Zhou and grabbed the old doctor’s arm.
“My mistress only knows how to treat terminal illnesses, nothing else,” she said anxiously, glancing at the doctor. “Please hurry and see what can be done.”
At least her words were honest.
The old doctor’s expression softened slightly.
“Don’t worry, this illness is not serious. With proper care, she’ll recover,” he said, while carefully considering the prescription. “The treatment should focus on replenishing qi and nourishing the blood. Using a modified version of Ginseng Nourishing Decoction will suffice.”
The maid nodded.
“Hurry and get the medicine from the doctor,” she instructed the maids nearby.
The maids froze for a moment, then looked toward Madam Zhou.
“Why not let Jiao Jiao decide on the prescription herself?” Madam Zhou hesitated.
“Madam, my mistress is already like this—what more do you want?” the maid cried out.
Madam Zhou was furious.
“Your mistress is already like this, and you’re only telling me now? Do you think you’re in the right here?” she shouted.
“Mother, this isn’t the time to argue about this,” Zhou Liu-lang said from outside the door. “Getting the medicine is the priority.”
At the same time, he instructed the maids to prepare the carriage and escort the doctor back.
Watching the doctor leave with a look of disdain, Madam Zhou no longer had the patience to stay and stormed off in anger.
“Tell me, isn’t this just toying with people?” she said. “First, it’s ‘this can’t be treated,’ then ‘that can’t be treated,’ then it’s ‘only treats those about to die.’ But once cured, she herself falls ill—what a mess!”
“Mother, this isn’t so bad,” Zhou Liu-lang said, relaying what Young Master Qin had said.
Master Zhou nodded.
“That’s right. This is even better, much better,” he said. “Talk of ghosts and spirits is pure nonsense. Our family is an upright and honorable household.”
Madam Zhou still hesitated. She felt that talk of ghosts and spirits was more convincing.
“Such a womanly view,” Master Zhou remarked. “What they say is their business. Regardless of anything else, as long as our Jiao Jiao has truly brought someone back from the brink of death, that’s all that matters. If something happens, they’ll have no choice but to come begging to us.”
After carefully wrapping up the medicine and collecting the consultation fee, the Zhou family’s maids left. As soon as they were gone, the pharmacy erupted into a buzz, with people swarming around the old doctor.
“Did you really treat that mistress?”
“Could it be that a doctor capable of reviving the dead can’t heal themselves?”
“How old is she? What does she look like?”
A cacophony of questions rose all at once.
The old doctor barely managed to extricate himself.
“A patient’s matters are not to be discussed frivolously,” he said righteously. “No gossip, no gossip.”
Although the old doctor upheld his principles, the fact that the Zhou family had sought treatment and medicine for Lady Cheng quickly spread. This muddled the recently circulating rumors about her ability to communicate with spirits.
“… She can communicate with spirits, which is how she brings people back from the dead…”
“… What nonsense! If she could, then why would she herself fall ill?…”
“… That’s because communicating with spirits drains one’s qi and blood…”
“… You talk like you’ve communicated with spirits yourself. What do you even know?…”
In teahouses and taverns, heated debates often erupted when discussing this rumor. Some arguments became so intense that faces turned red, necks bulged, and fights broke out. Eventually, someone introduced a new theory.
“This mistress must have encountered an immortal who granted her the secret technique to revive the dead. She herself likely does not possess an immortal’s abilities. That’s why she can only treat those with terminal conditions but cannot cure other illnesses, including her own.”
As soon as this theory was proposed, it was accepted by both sides of the debate. Those who didn’t believe in spirits were satisfied with the explanation of a secret technique, while those who did believe in spirits were content with the notion of encountering an immortal. Through repeated discussions, this version of the story became the most widely accepted.
After several twists and turns, by the end of the lunar New Year, Lady Cheng of the Zhou family had gradually become a household name in the capital, with five out of ten people knowing about her. For a bustling city like the capital, teeming with people and daily news, this was quite a feat.
As for Cheng Jiao-niang, the one at the center of it all, she remained completely unaware of the commotion. She stayed behind closed doors at the Zhou residence, focusing on her recovery.
The maid stood under the corridor, inspecting the vegetables and meat brought by the servants one by one.
“Couldn’t you find any fresh spinach?” she asked discontentedly.
“It’s the dead of winter—it’s really hard to find,” the maid said with a troubled expression.
“Hard to find? Isn’t it available at the brick kilns in the eastern part of the city?” the maid replied.
The maid gasped.
“I went, I went! But it was all sold out,” she stammered.
“Then go earlier next time. We’re just missing this one ingredient for the soup,” the maid said.
The maid lowered her head and responded with a meek “yes,” watching as the maid turned and went back inside.
“Whatever she wants, just buy it,” Madam Zhou said indifferently after hearing the complaint. “It’s just money. What’s money to us? We’re not like the Cheng family, who’ve probably never seen real wealth, skimping on food and drink for our Jiao Jiao. Money…”
She paused mid-sentence, put down the mirror in her hand, and, unable to focus on her grooming, turned to look at Master Zhou, who was sipping tea.
“Master, wouldn’t it be inconvenient for Jiao Jiao to hold onto that ten thousand guan?” she said.
Ten thousand guan!
Master Zhou froze mid-action. Amid the chaos of recent days, he had completely forgotten about it.
That much money—how could they let a mere child carry it around?
Outside the capital city, in Song Village, at the end of the lunar New Year, the weather remained gloomy and chilly.
A few coughs echoed from within a dilapidated courtyard.
“Da-lang, why are you outside?” A woman, carrying a manure basket on her back, hurriedly entered the gate and approached the man standing in the doorway.
“I’m fine. I can’t just keep resting,” Li Dashao said, glancing around the courtyard.
“Spring is almost here, and we can’t delay the work in the fields.”
The woman nodded and helped him sit down.
“When the time comes, we’ll rent an ox, and I’ll ask my family to come and help. Don’t worry,” she said.
Li Dashao let out a long sigh.
“Don’t lie to me. We don’t have that kind of money. How would your brothers-in-law be willing to help? Didn’t you come back crying after borrowing money?” he said quietly.
The woman’s eyes reddened slightly.
“Anyway, don’t worry. There will always be a way. Look, at least your illness is better now,” she said.
“Found a kind-hearted person,” Li Dashao replied, gazing out the door. “Do you remember the benefactor’s full name?”
The woman nodded.
“I remember. He’s a scholar. We don’t need to thank him now. Let’s wait until he passes his imperial exam and then thank him properly,” she said.
At this point, her tone became a bit bitter.
“What can we really do to repay him? Our whole family—whether we can survive until spring is still uncertain.”
The atmosphere suddenly became heavy.
“Da-lang, the Drunken Phoenix Pavilion has closed down. They say they’ve moved,” the woman hurriedly changed the topic, then immediately regretted it.
Why did I bring that up!
As expected, Li Dashao’s expression grew even gloomier.
“Is that so?” he murmured.
“But it seems like it’s been sold again,” the woman quickly added. “I saw a few people moving in.”
“Is that so?” Li Dashao forced a smile. “I wonder if they’re still running a restaurant.”
Whether they are or not, it’s irrelevant to them.
Another silence fell in the courtyard. The couple had lost their desire to speak, staring blankly at the door.
A carriage appeared in their line of sight, coming closer from a distance.
