The night was deep and dark, but the lights in Qin Shi’san’s room were bright.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the old doctor standing before the bed.
“It’s nothing serious, nothing serious—just a matter of the blood and energy still being a bit unbalanced. With time and proper care, he’ll be able to move about normally again,” the doctor said as he stood up.
Though they had already heard this countless times today, Qin An and his wife were still overwhelmed with emotion.
“Shi’san, Shi’san, did you hear that?” Madam Qin said through tears.
Qin Shi’san, already awake on the bed, smiled when he heard her.
“Mother, not only did I hear it—I’ve heard it so many times, my ears have grown calluses,” he replied.
Madam Qin let out a choked laugh and quickly wiped her tears again.
“Mother, I’m really fine now. You should go get some rest,” Qin Shi’san said.
Madam Qin nodded, smiling through her tears.
“Yes, I’ll go rest. I’ll go now,” she said, rising as she spoke.
The maids hurried after her.
“I’ll sleep for a bit, just a bit… I haven’t had a good sleep in so long…” she murmured, covering her face as she left.
Watching his mother stagger away, Qin Shi’san felt a sting at the tip of his nose.
“All right, you should rest too. So many doctors have confirmed it, and even that maid of Lady Cheng’s said the same. We can finally feel at ease. Focus on your recovery,” said Qin An.
One by one, the lights in the room went out. Everyone had withdrawn, and the space quieted down.
Qin Shi’san lay on the couch, his expression dazed.
Slowly, he reached out and bent forward to touch his lower leg.
It’s really… healed…
Is this really not a dream?
“All right, all right, stop walking around and get some rest,” Madam Qin said anxiously, urging Young Master Qin, who was being helped along slowly by two servants.
From the moment he fainted out of sheer fury to the time he woke up, then fainted again out of shock and awoke once more—three days had passed.
During those three days, Young Master Qin no longer walked as smoothly as he did in the dreamlike moment when he first stood up. He now had to be supported. But at least he had regained strength and could feel sensation again.
Madam Qin had personally gone to visit Lady Cheng once more, but was again told that she was still resting and not receiving guests. She only sent word to keep taking the medicine until it was finished.
“She said not to be greedy,” Madam Qin said, watching the maids wipe sweat from Qin Shi’san’s face, her own face glowing with joy. “Take it slow—we’re in no rush.”
Qin Shi’san smiled and responded, “Yes.”
Yes—there’s no rush. He could wait.
After all, he had waited through hopelessness until hope arrived—and now, hope had become reality. What else couldn’t he wait for?
He lay back on the bed and swallowed a pill scooped from a porcelain bottle. The room fell quiet again.
He had said he didn’t like having too many people around and wanted to recuperate in peace.
This time, no one would stop him from resting quietly.
Because now, he no longer needed people constantly by his side. Though he still walked unsteadily, he could walk. He could finally be on his own—and do whatever he wanted.
Young Master Qin rested his hands behind his neck, ears still buzzing, his mind a chaos of racing thoughts.
“When did it all begin?”
Lying on the bed, he murmured while gazing at the canopy overhead.
He had woken up soon after fainting that day, and quickly came to terms with the truth—this unbelievable, dreamlike truth.
I told you long ago I didn’t believe it.
And you said long ago you don’t lie.
A smile crept onto Qin Shi’san’s lips. He crossed one leg over the other on the bed and began to swing it slowly and leisurely.
He could do this movement now—this, and all the other things he once couldn’t do, the things others could do but he could not.
It was a truth so unbelievable, it still felt unreal.
He remembered that moment when his father, standing in the hall before everyone, explained why he had agreed to Chen Shao’s suggestion in the first place.
There were records of this kind of treatment in old texts.
The Lüshi Chunqiu mentioned a method used by Wen Zhi to treat the King of Qi—one that involved provoking and humiliating the patient to stimulate recovery.
Yes, that’s right. That must have been it.
He had long felt something was off. She wasn’t someone who spoke so harshly, nor was she someone who liked to talk much.
So when had it begun?
Did it start with that first cruel line: “You little cripple”?
Or was it when she said, “Since you helped me this time, I’ll help treat your leg”?
After that, he began to drink the tea she gave him, to listen to what she said, to fall for her traps, to believe in her teasing.
“So I’m just like Secretariat Editor Liu,” he muttered to himself again. “I used to laugh at him, but I’m really not much better.”
The only difference was—one had caused illness, and the other had been cured.
He laughed, but as he laughed, his eyes began to sting with emotion. Suddenly, he sat up and instinctively reached for his cane—grasping at empty air before realizing:
Right. He wouldn’t need it anymore.
He stood up, carefully steadying himself. Though his strength was still lacking and his legs trembled, he cautiously took a step forward—unsteady, slightly off balance—but it was a step he had taken on his own.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Qin Shi’san looked up and saw Zhou Liu-lang standing in the doorway.
Though he had already guessed the truth, seeing it with his own eyes still left him visibly surprised.
“Why did it take you so long to come see me?” Qin Shi’san said with a smile, a trace of mock complaint in his tone.
Zhou Liu-lang didn’t respond—he just looked at him.
Young Master Qin gave a slight smile, then slowly stretched out his arms and turned in a slow circle.
“How do I look? Even more dashing and elegant than before—feeling even more ashamed to stand next to me, aren’t you?” he joked.
Zhou Liu-lang couldn’t help but break into a smile, though he quickly forced his face back into composure.
“How is she?” Qin Shi’san asked.
“I don’t know,” Zhou Liu-lang replied.
No one mentioned her name, but both of them knew exactly who “she” was.
She refused to see him, and he didn’t have the face to seek her out.
He didn’t know where to go either. At home, his parents were filled with joy, constantly mentioning “Jiao Jiao”—as if they couldn’t go a moment without her. Heaven knows how much it hurt him now, just to hear her name.
If his own family was already so overjoyed, he could only imagine what it was like in the Qin household.
He had suddenly lost all desire to be around such happiness—so it wasn’t until today that he came out to see anyone.
Zhou Liu-lang sat down with a sour expression, lifting his robes as he did.
“Here we go again,” Young Master Qin said with a smile, slowly walking over as he spoke. “Last time, she said she refused to treat my leg because of you, and even though I was the one who should’ve been upset, I still had to comfort you. This time, my leg has been healed—I’m supposed to be overjoyed—and yet here I am again, comforting you. Zhou Liu-lang, I really must owe you something.”
“She did all that, said all that—for the sake of treating you. Couldn’t she have just told me?” Zhou Liu-lang muttered, ignoring the joke.
“You, with your upright nature, can’t even fake a thing. If she had told you, would you have been able to keep it from me? Forget you—even my parents, anyone connected to me—if she had told them, something this joyous… who could truly hide it without showing anything? I’m so sharp—none of you could’ve fooled me,” said Qin Shi’san with a smile.
Zhou Liu-lang gave a snort.
“Look at how clever you are. No wonder you nearly got yourself mad to death,” he retorted.
Qin Shi’san burst into hearty laughter, slowly pacing back and forth.
“I really have to thank you this time too. If you hadn’t been by my side, getting all emotional—angry one moment, pleased the next—I wouldn’t have been poisoned so quickly to the heart and lungs and gotten so furious I nearly died,” he said.
“Can you stop walking around like that?” Zhou Liu-lang said.
“Nope,” Qin Shi’san replied with a grin. “These past few days, I’ve done nothing but walk—making up for all the steps I’ve missed in the past ten-plus years.”
Zhou Liu-lang fell silent for a moment.
“She didn’t explain things clearly. That’s not my fault,” he said, unsure whether he was speaking to Qin Shi’san or convincing himself.
“Yes, you’re not wrong. No one said you were,” Qin Shi’san replied with a smile. He continued to walk carefully, barefoot, deliberately avoiding shoes or socks to savor the real sensation of feet against the ground. Suddenly, he noticed something, lowered his head to look, and let out a joyful laugh. “Look, my legs are covered with tiny pinpricks—ha! I’ve no idea what she did to me.”
Before his words had even finished, Zhou Liu-lang suddenly stood up.
“You’re all fine, all of you—you’re all smart, all understanding—and I’m the fool! The ridiculous fool! None of you need to hear what a fool like me has to say! A fool like me doesn’t even deserve to speak with any of you!” he shouted.
Qin Shi’san looked at him, stunned, clearly taken aback.
“Actually, she was wrong,” Zhou Liu-lang said. “If she hadn’t treated you, you and I wouldn’t have grown distant. But because she did…”
He stopped himself before finishing the sentence, swallowed the rest of his words, turned around, and strode away.
That blockhead! Always causing trouble for himself.
Young Master Qin called out twice, but Zhou Liu-lang had already run off. He took a few steps, holding onto the doorframe, but in the end didn’t dare to chase after him.
His legs had only just recovered—he couldn’t be reckless. He stood there, staring absentmindedly into the courtyard.
Yes… he had only just gotten better…
He should go ask Lady Cheng for advice, see if she had any further instructions.
No—not to ask for instructions, but to thank her.
He was much better now. It was time to thank her in person.
“Someone, someone—prepare the carriage!”
“No, prepare a horse!”
“No… no need to prepare a horse. I’ll walk there myself.”
