Jiao Niang’s Medical Record Chapter 366

When night fell, inside one of the inn’s rooms, Cheng Ping sat on the floor, his hands and feet bound, and bumped his body against the door.

“Hey, hey.” He called weakly toward the crack, “This really has nothing to do with me… Has your lady woken up yet? Once she wakes, just ask her—she’ll tell you the same thing…”

No one replied from outside, but it wasn’t that the hallway was empty; Cheng Ping could hear the sound of breathing.

“Well then, how about getting me something to eat first?” he tried again.

Of course, no one paid him any mind.

So Cheng Ping shifted his body around and leaned back against the door, gazing into the room.

It was an upper room of the inn, not some stable or woodshed. Perhaps for the lady’s convenience in seeing him, they hadn’t bothered to throw him into a rougher place, nor bound him too tightly. The room was handsomely furnished, warm as spring, with a teapot set upon the table.

At least he wasn’t freezing. Cheng Ping inched himself toward the table, caught the teapot in his teeth, and tried drinking from it. His movements were unsteady—he nearly choked, splashed tea all over himself—but even so, he beamed with delight.

“Not bad, not bad. Fine tea,” he said, before biting down again to keep drinking.

In contrast to his own self-satisfaction, at the doorway of another room two women approached in haste, carrying medicine, their faces tight with worry.

Outside stood two attendants, keeping watch with anxious expressions.

“How is she? Has she woken?” the women asked quickly.

The attendants shook their heads.

“They’ve gone to fetch the doctor again, and also sent word back home,” they said.

“Could it be you struck her too hard?” Xi-niang asked.

One of the attendants looked embarrassed and uneasy. Could it be that, in their panic, they had indeed lost control—striking too heavily, leaving the lady still unconscious even now?

“What a mess this is!”

The two women sighed. They no longer blamed the attendants—after all, there had truly been no other choice at the time. Pulling the door open, they stepped inside.

Behind the bed curtains, the lady lay flat, fast asleep.

“San-niang, there’s no way to give her medicine like this,” Xi-niang whispered.

San-niang let out a helpless sigh.

“The doctor said there’s nothing seriously wrong. If she wakes, she can take the medicine. If not, don’t force it—better that than choking her and making things worse.”

The two women sank to the floor, sitting opposite each other in shared misery.

How could it have come to this…? She had been perfectly fine just before…

“It’s all that little swindler’s fault!” Xi-niang whispered angrily. “Talking about her having no fate—and now look what’s happened…”

San-niang fell silent for a moment, saying nothing.

Then she lowered her voice suddenly, “Tell me… doesn’t it all feel a little strange?”

Xi-niang looked at her in confusion.

“She… she was simple-minded as a child. But now—look at her. Does she seem like a fool to you?” San-niang whispered.

Xi-niang shook her head. In neither looks nor behavior did the young lady resemble a fool. What kind of fool could be like that? If she counted as one, then what did that make the rest of them!

“Didn’t we already agree on what she was?” Xi-niang muttered.

“Can a fool suddenly get better?” San-niang whispered again, glancing nervously around. “What if… she’s possessed? I’ve heard that if a possession is spoken of aloud, it gets frightened away—and if it flees, then the host loses their life. Think of how she looked earlier today—it was like her very soul had slipped away…”

Before she could finish, Xi-niang blanched with fear and slapped at her arm.

“Don’t talk nonsense! Don’t you dare!” she said in a trembling whisper.

San-niang immediately bit her tongue and dared not utter another word.

The two women sat in silence. The room was dim, and the wind moaned through cracks in the windows and door, a low wailing that only heightened the eerie chill.

“L-light… light a lamp…” San-niang stammered.

Xi-niang hurried to light them. With several lamps flaring to life, the room gained a touch of warmth, and both women let out a breath of relief.

“The doctor has arrived,” an attendant announced from outside.

The women quickly stood as an elderly man entered, a medicine box slung across his back.

With more people in the room, their unease began to fade. Just as they were about to speak, a girl’s voice drifted out from the inner chamber:

“No need. I’m fine.”

The suddenness of it made San-niang, holding a lamp to guide the way, cry out in fright.

Her shriek startled the others as well. Even the attendants outside, forgetting all propriety between men and women, rushed inside.

“Miss, it’s my fault.”

Kneeling on the mat, the two women bowed low, trembling as they spoke.

It turned out the lady had been awake all along, which meant she had overheard everything they said…

How foolish—gossiping behind someone’s back and still worrying about being caught! And here they were, speaking so openly right in front of her…

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about yourselves. I was… frightened myself. I thought if someone came in and spoke, I wouldn’t act so rashly—but I didn’t expect to scare you as well,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.

Who gets scared of themselves…?

This—this was truly…

The two women bowed even lower, their embarrassment deepening.

“Miss, don’t listen to that little swindler’s nonsense. You’re fine. That little trickster is just good with words—always cheating her way into food and drink…” they hurried to reassure her.

Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head, looking at them.

“Do me a favor,” she said.

The two women’s faces lit up. She didn’t turn them away; instead, she was eager to be of help. That was true generosity.

“Go buy some books,” Cheng Jiao-niang continued. “Any books— the more, the better.”

Books? Now?

Though surprised, the women hurriedly nodded in agreement.

Footsteps in the corridor roused Cheng Ping from his drowsiness.

“…Over here…just put them here…”

Alongside her voice came the sound of objects hitting the floor.

“…Be careful…”

What’s going on?

Cheng Ping hurried toward the door, one eye peeking out. Two young servants hurried down the corridor, each carrying a thick stack of books and scrolls.

Books?

Why were so many books being delivered in the middle of the night?

“Are there more on the cart outside?” came a woman’s voice.

“Yes. Are you sure Miss wants all of them? Would she be able to read them all?”

Miss?

Cheng Ping’s heart leapt—she’s awake!

“Hey, hey!” he called, bumping the door with his shoulder. “Can you let me go now?”

After several calls, someone finally approached—but didn’t open the door.

“Let you go?” a male voice said angrily. “Just wait. We’ll settle this with you after Miss is done!”

What could be so urgent at this hour?

Cheng Ping peered through the crack. The night was deep, and the corridor lights flickered softly.

Well, forget it. He’d just sleep for now, and deal with it after waking.

As dawn gradually broke, the woman on guard at the door stirred from a nap. She saw the other woman lying on the mat, tucked in under a blanket, sleeping soundly.

With the sky about to brighten, the woman exhaled, rubbed her shoulders, and straightened up, glancing toward the inner room.

The sliding doors of the inner chamber were open, and she could see the young lady sitting upright inside.

Sitting upright!

The woman was instantly wide awake—could she have been sitting like that all night?

The room was still lit, and the books and scrolls bought the night before, which had nearly filled the room, were now scattered across the floor and tables. Yet the young lady remained seated among them.

She wasn’t leafing through the books; the scroll before her appeared to be the same one from the previous night, while the rest remained untouched.

As the daylight gradually brightened, the once-bright candlelight dimmed, and the room’s illumination grew faint, as if the life and spirit radiating from the young lady were slowly fading away as well.

The woman couldn’t help pressing a hand to her chest, feeling an oppressive weight there.

The hurried steps, the silent tears, the screams after she fell—all of that seemed nothing compared to the desolation of sitting like this.

True sorrow must be like this, with the heart turned to ashes.

Could it really be… all because of that little swindler’s words?

Three hundred years…

In the span of life between heaven and earth, one’s years pass like a white colt leaping across a crack in time—sudden, fleeting.

She had lived and died, crossing nearly three centuries.

The sixth year of Qianyuan in the Great Zhou.

Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her head, gazing at the open scroll, and reached out to touch the fresh inscription upon it.

Familiar, yet strange.

Familiar because the memory of this era existed within her; strange because of the vividness of the sensation—not from books she had studied before, not from the precious ancient volumes stored high on the shelves.

Great Zhou, sixth year of Qianyuan—the dynasty had ruled for barely seventy years. Now the fourth emperor, Zhongzong, sat on the throne. Where she stood, the Fang clan of the Great Zhou royal family had long since been exterminated. They had been replaced by the Great Qing dynasty, which itself had collapsed after the sudden death of its last young emperor. A new banner inscribed with the characters “Great Liang” now flew high over the remnants of walls scorched by war and smoke.

Cheng Jiao-niang reached out, calculating mechanically—this was two hundred and ninety-four years later, the year her own Cheng clan met its doom.

Her hand dropped to the table, her long fingers whitening from the grip.

She had never imagined that the Cheng family of Jiang-zhou would suffer such annihilation, and that it would happen after aiding the Yang family in war for ten years, and yet… and yet…

“Ah-Fang! The emperor has abdicated, and the Imperial Observatory has already chosen the day for your and my investiture!”

“Congratulations, Your Majesty, and congratulations, Empress.”

Cheng Jiao-niang leaned on the table and laughed silently.

How absurd. How utterly absurd.

The very people she had been closest to had ordered her to be shot like a porcupine, and had dug out her heart with their own hands.

How absurd. How utterly absurd.

The Fourth Prince of the Great Liang dynasty—Yang Shan!

The Yang family of Great Liang!

People say that when the birds are gone, the good bow is hidden—but the Yang family had barely held the Great Liang throne, and already they raised the slaughter knife against the Cheng family?

The dynasty had just been established, the new realm barely stable; merits were barely rewarded, titles barely conferred—and yet, why raise the slaughter knife against the Chengs?

For centuries, even amidst upheaval and dynastic change, the Jiang-zhou Chengs had remained untouched. As a family of eminent grand diviners, revered by emperors through generations, the heads of the family had always served in the Imperial Observatory—watching the heavens, observing the earth, reading the winds and clouds, compiling calendars and histories. This was the renowned, illustrious Cheng family of Jiang-zhou, a great lineage of officialdom and prestige.

And now, the centuries of glory were destroyed!

Their homes ransacked, the clan exterminated—no cat, no dog left, every tree and blade of grass burned!

Banners consumed by fire, hearts dug out and boiled in cauldrons, souls devoured, spirits annihilated—yin and yang both obliterated!

Gone! Gone! All gone!

The Chengs were gone! The Cheng clan was no more!

Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly sprang to her feet, startling the woman who had been watching her anxiously.

“Miss…” she called out.

Cheng Jiao-niang didn’t look at her, instead striding swiftly toward the door.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “Where is he?”

He?

The woman froze at the question, then quickly realized.

“The little swindler? Next door,” she hurriedly replied.

Before she could finish speaking, the door was already pulled open. The woman who had been sleeping on the floor woke, drowsily catching only the edge of a skirt as it passed before her eyes.

“What’s going on?” she asked, suddenly alert, climbing up instantly.

The first woman didn’t stop to answer her, chasing after Cheng Jiao-niang as she rushed out.

“My lady!” an attendant in the corridor called out in surprise, straightening up.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m just taking a little walk,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.

Just a little walk?

Everyone’s faces went pale—at this hour of the night…

As they were wondering how to persuade her, Cheng Jiao-niang stopped in front of the neighboring door and reached out to open it.

The room was pitch dark. Light from the corridor cast shadows inside, revealing a man sleeping soundly on the couch, his soft snores echoing through the room.

The women hurried in, holding lamps and lighting the room.

The sudden clamor roused Cheng Ping. The brightness stung his eyes, and he instinctively raised his hands to shield them—only to realize his hands and feet were still bound. That’s when he remembered what had happened.

“What now…” he yawned.

Before he could finish, someone knelt down in front of him, bowing their head, and a choked sob followed.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Cheng Jiao-niang first choked back tears, then sobbed, finally burying her face as she cried openly.

I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Ancestor, forgive us. We were powerless. The Cheng clan is gone. The Cheng clan is gone.