Jiao Niang’s Medical Record Chapter 148

At the end of February, the early morning remained cold and overcast.

As the mist had yet to dissipate, the Zhou family’s training grounds echoed with the shouts of martial practice.

All the men of the Zhou family were engaged in training with weapons and archery—an enduring tradition of both the Zhou household and all warrior families. Every day, they tempered their bodies, regardless of wind or rain.

Master Zhou, who was nearly fifty years old, wore only a short robe as he wielded a long spear with effortless grace. Opposite him, Zhou Liu-lang, bare-chested, dodged and countered with his silver spear, showing no fear.

Nearby, brothers of various ages sparred against one another. Despite the early spring chill, the shirtless men were drenched in sweat.

With a sharp shout, Zhou Liu-lang’s spear flew from his hands. He staggered back a few steps, his face filled with unwillingness.

“Liu-lang, you’re still young,” Master Zhou laughed heartily, planting his long spear firmly on the ground. “But you’re not bad at all. When I was your age, your grandfather would knock me down with his spear every single time.”

As the father and son concluded their bout, the other brothers also settled their matches. After a few more rounds of archery practice, the morning training came to an end.

Outside the training grounds, waiting maids and servants rushed forward to attend to their masters, helping them wipe away sweat and put on additional layers.

Only Zhou Liu-lang lingered a little longer, throwing the stone weights a few more times before finally joining them.

After morning practice, it was time for the Zhou family’s breakfast. Following the meal, Master Zhou and his two sons who held official positions would head to the government office for the morning roll call, while the other children went about their own affairs.

“Liu-lang, come with us to Puxiu Temple today,” a few sisters called out, stopping Zhou Liu-lang.

“No,” Zhou Liu-lang replied bluntly. “I hate places like that.”

“That’s not true at all,” one younger sister huffed. “If that fool asked you to go, you’d definitely agree.”

“Actually, Liu-lang isn’t accompanying her—he’s watching over her, making sure she doesn’t run off,” another sister teased with a laugh.

“Run off? More like she clings to home and refuses to leave…”

The sisters giggled among themselves until one of them suddenly hushed the group.

“Shh, stop talking—Lady Chen is coming,” someone whispered.

Everyone fell silent, watching as a maid led a lady forward with graceful steps.

The sisters stood still, while Zhou Liu-lang, who had been walking ahead, turned around to avoid her.

Chen Shi’ba-niang followed the maid past them. The Zhou sisters did not greet her, and she, in turn, had no intention of offering a salutation. Though both sides saw each other, they acted as if they hadn’t.

Young ladies from scholar-official families rarely mingled with those from military households, and the Zhou sisters had no interest in making polite acquaintances.

“I wonder what Lady Chen even talks about with her,” one sister muttered.

“Perhaps they don’t talk at all,” another said with a laugh.

Chen Shi’ba-niang entered the courtyard gate. The maid announced her arrival before retreating, but she did not wait for anyone to greet her. She ascended the steps on her own and walked straight to the door of the side chamber. Two young maids hurriedly reached out to pull it open for her.

The side chamber was a simply furnished study, warmed by two charcoal braziers that dispelled the lingering early spring chill.

Inside, two desks were placed on opposite sides of the room, each accompanied by an inkstone, brushes, paper, and an inkstick—besides these, there was nothing else.

Chen Shi’ba-niang removed her outer robe and wooden clogs, then stepped inside. She knelt before her desk on the left, spread a sheet of paper across the surface, secured it with a paperweight, and slowly began grinding ink.

By the time she had finished, footsteps sounded outside. The door was pulled open once again, revealing first a foot clad in socks, then the rest of the person stepping inside.

There was no greeting, no words exchanged—just a simple nod of acknowledgment.

Cheng Jiao-niang settled in on the opposite side. By the time she finished grinding her ink and lifted her brush, Chen Shi’ba-niang had already completed writing a full page.

Cheng Jiao-niang lifted her brush, while Chen Shi’ba-niang set hers down, turning to carefully observe her every movement—how she held the brush, how she guided its strokes.

After writing just five characters, Cheng Jiao-niang handed the paper to Chen Shi’ba-niang, who placed it on her desk to use as a reference for copying.

Cheng Jiao-niang then continued practicing her own calligraphy, occasionally turning to observe Chen Shi’ba-niang’s progress.

“Your arm is too high.”

Every so often, she would offer a brief comment, correcting Chen Shi’ba-niang’s posture or brushwork.

An hour later, a maid entered and set down a bowl of water and a bowl of tea by the door—a quiet signal that the day’s calligraphy practice had come to an end.

Chen Shi’ba-niang finished her cup of tea and glanced at Cheng Jiao-niang beside her.

“Miss, do you not like tea?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Ever since they had met, every time they saw each other, this lady always drank water—never tea.

“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, setting down her cup. “The tea here just doesn’t suit my taste.”

Chen Shi’ba-niang was slightly puzzled and lowered her gaze to her own tea bowl.

The Zhou family was wealthy; they purchased the finest tea cakes produced by the monks of Puxiu Temple, a rare and expensive commodity in the capital. The affluent households of the city all used spring water sourced from Luomei Mountain outside the city, enriched with salt and nutmeg. Though the maid brewing the tea was not particularly skilled, the flavor was still considered excellent.

Not to her taste?

Was it simply a difference between northern and southern preferences?

“My family also has tea from the south, from places like Fuzhou and Hangzhou. I’ll have some sent to you,” Chen Shi’ba-niang said.

“Thank you, Lady Chen,” the maid replied with a smile. “But my mistress doesn’t drink tea even at home—she doesn’t like the tea of today.”

Doesn’t like the tea of today?

Then does she prefer tea from the past? Or the future?

Chen Shi’ba-niang was momentarily puzzled. She lifted her bowl, finished the remaining tea, then set it down, offering a polite bow in thanks. Rising to her feet, she took her leave—by now, it was time for Cheng Jiao-niang’s midday rest.

Upon hearing the maid report that Cheng Jiao-niang’s maid was preparing the carriage to leave again, Madam Zhou let out a cold scoff.

“Running about all day long—what a disgrace for a young lady,” she said, pressing her fingers against her throbbing temples. Just hearing that name made her throat tighten, and the cough she had worked so hard to suppress threatened to resurface. “If she likes living outside so much, why not just send her to a house elsewhere? That way, people won’t keep carrying the dead to our doorstep, bringing misfortune upon us.”

As she spoke, something suddenly came to mind, and she sat up abruptly.

“Didn’t the Chen family gift her an house?” she asked.

Master Zhou frowned and set down his teacup.

“Back then, when she wanted to move out, we didn’t allow it. How can we justify driving her away now?” he said. “If she wants to go out, let her. What’s the big deal?”

“How is it not a big deal?” Madam Zhou’s brows furrowed. “People won’t care who she is. They’ll only say that our family failed to raise its daughters properly, tarnishing the reputation of our other girls. They still need to get married!”

“Even so, outright expelling her wouldn’t look good,” Master Zhou replied.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s not as if we’re abandoning her. We can send a dozen or so servants—men, maids, everything she needs. It’s not far, and visiting would be easy,” Madam Zhou argued. “That house has a great location, beautiful scenery, and convenient access to everything. It’s quiet and peaceful… a perfect place to live.”

“Wait a moment,” Master Zhou interrupted her. “Are you saying she should move there, or that we should?”

Madam Zhou shot him a glare.

“We’ve raised her for a lifetime—what’s hers is ours,” she snapped.

“I see. I’ll think about it,” Master Zhou said.

Madam Zhou didn’t press further and instead turned to the maid. “Where are they off to this time? Liu-lang didn’t go with them, did he?”

“Only the maid went out,” the maid answered.

“A country girl running around aimlessly—who knows what will come of it. She’d better watch out or she’ll end up getting kidnapped,” Madam Zhou scoffed.

That was exactly what she wished for in her heart. That girl was truly insufferable.

The maid had the carriage stop outside Puxiu Temple, then entered the temple gates. She made her way through the bustling crowd and directly out the back gate. With familiarity, she stood in front of a house, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

The door opened just a crack, and an elderly man peeked out. Squinting, he began to say the well-rehearsed words he had likely spoken many times before.

“Your visiting card. Please allow me to take it for him. My master is currently not receiving guests. Please come back in a few days.” He mumbled, but before he could finish, his tongue tripped over itself, and his eyes suddenly widened. “Su Xin!”

“Uncle Cai,” the maid called out in a clear, crisp voice.

The old doorman swung the door open with a loud clatter, staring at her in disbelief, his expression filled with excitement.

A maid was typically treated as property—easily swapped or gifted, and such things were common. But over time, bonds would form, and no one would dare question the master’s decisions. Even so, the servants sometimes couldn’t help but murmur among themselves, wondering where Su Xin had been sent, how she was faring, and whether they would ever see her again.

To their surprise, here she was, standing right in front of them.

“Su Xin, you—you didn’t escape, did you?” The old doorman suddenly grew serious, his expression hardening as he spoke, his eyes flickering behind her.

There were no carriages or horses accompanying her, and she was alone—this was…

“Uncle Cai, what are you thinking? I’ve been in the capital for a while. Today, I was entrusted by my mistress to come and see if the old master has returned,” the maid replied with a smile.

The news quickly spread inside. Just a few steps past the door, a lady’s voice was heard.

“Su Xin!”

A maid came rushing out from within, her face filled with excitement. As she spoke, tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Is it really you, Miss?” she called out. “Has the mistress really come?”

Translator’s Comment:

Sorry guys, I will be on holiday for 10 days, so won’t be able to update during this time.