Jiao Niang’s Medical Record Chapter 380

“Nonsense!”

A sharp smack echoed from within the palace.

The eunuchs and palace maids under the corridor took a few steps back, which puzzled the Imperial Consort who was approaching.

“What’s going on again?” she asked.

“Reporting to Your Highness,” a eunuch replied in a low voice, bowing respectfully. “Duke Jin’an is inside.”

It wasn’t surprising that he was there. Half a month had passed, and he still hadn’t recovered from the shock. He had been staying in the Empress Dowager’s palace all this time.

The Imperial Consort curled her lips.

“It’s still early. Why isn’t the Duke with Prince Qing?” she said.

Five days after the fall, the Second Prince regained consciousness, but as the imperial doctors had predicted, he was left severely mentally impaired. He lost control over his basic functions and could no longer speak.

Witnessing his condition, the Emperor and the Empress Dowager were utterly disheartened. Though they ordered the physicians to continue his treatment, they knew in their hearts that there was no hope.

Just three days prior, the Emperor issued an edict conferring upon the Second Prince the title of Prince of Qing.

Due to the scarcity of male heirs, the Emperor had deliberately delayed granting titles. The First Prince had been named Duke of Ning at the age of ten and had not yet been elevated to the rank of Prince. The Second Prince, however, was only seven years old and had not even been granted a ducal title – yet he was now directly enfeoffed as a Prince, an act that defied all conventions.

Nevertheless, not a single minister at court submitted a memorial objecting to this decision. It was clear to all that the Second Prince was now completely incapacitated. Granting him the title of Prince was, on one hand, an attempt to invoke auspiciousness for his recovery, and on the other, a father’s act of love and protection for his son.

No one wished to provoke a grieving father at such a time, nor was there any reason to oppose the enfeoffment of a Prince who posed no threat.

The eunuch glanced around cautiously before stepping closer.

“It’s because of the matter concerning Prince Qing that things have become tense,” he whispered, lowering his voice.

The Imperial Consort’s heart tightened instantly, and her hands clenched unconsciously beneath her cloak.

“What happened now?” she asked.

The eunuch sighed.

“He insists on taking His Highness Prince Qing out of the palace to seek medical treatment,” he said, shaking his head.

Seek medical treatment outside?

The Imperial Consort was taken aback.

“You’re resorting to desperate measures in a moment of panic.”

The Empress Dowager tapped her hand on the table, her tone laced with helplessness as she looked at the young man kneeling before her.

Though he had been right before her eyes all these days, why did he suddenly seem so much thinner?

Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and though his hair was neatly tied, a few conspicuous stains on the hem of his robe gave him an unkempt appearance.

“How have you been looking after the Duke?!”

The Empress Dowager suddenly shouted in anger.

Several eunuchs outside the door immediately rushed in and knelt, repeatedly apologizing.

“Your Highness,” Duke Jin’an said, “this is not their fault. I was the one who insisted on taking care of Liu Ge’er.”

The Empress Dowager looked at him and sighed.

“Wei-lang,” she said, “look at what you’ve become…”

“Your Highness, Your Highness, never mind how I look now – we must find a way to cure Liu Ge’er first…” Duke Jin’an pleaded urgently, shuffling forward on his knees.

“Wei-lang!” the Empress Dowager raised her voice sharply.

Duke Jin’an looked up at her.

The young man’s large eyes were bloodshot, his face etched with stubborn grief.

The Empress Dowager’s heart softened again, and she sighed.

“Wake up. There is no cure,” she said.

Duke Jin’an shook his head.

“No, no, it’s not over yet,” he said, his head still shaking. “I still want to hear him call me ‘Brother.’ I still want to play with him. I still want to try.”

As he spoke, he bowed forward, pressing his forehead to the floor.

“Your Highness, let me try. Let me try. I can’t accept this – I can’t. I couldn’t hold him back back then. Let me try again. Maybe I can bring him back… I want to hear him call me ‘brother’… Your Highness, I want Liu Ge’er back. I want my Liu Ge’er back… Your Highness…”

Tears streamed down the Empress Dowager’s face as she raised a hand to cover her eyes.

I want my Liu Ge’er back. I want my Liu Ge’er back.

It was as heart-wrenching as the cry of a cuckoo weeping blood or the mournful wail of an ape.

“Where did you hear about this doctor?” the Empress Dowager asked, her voice choked with emotion.

…

The Imperial Consort paced back and forth by the window, her expression tense with anxiety. Just as her impatience was reaching its peak, she saw a palace maid hurry into the room.

“Well?” the Consort asked urgently.

“Her Highness the Empress Dowager has agreed and has also summoned His Majesty,” the maid reported.

The Consort let out a sigh of relief, unable to hide her delight as she clasped her hands together in a gesture of gratitude.

“And what did His Majesty say?” she pressed.

“His Majesty has also agreed, saying he wishes to honor the Duke’s sincere devotion,” the maid replied.

Sincere devotion…

The Consort let out a faint, derisive laugh.

“His Majesty even thanked the Duke,” the maid added, recalling another detail.

The Imperial Consort frowned.

“His Majesty thanked him? For what?” she asked.

“Something about acting on His Majesty’s behalf with utmost dedication,” the palace maid said. “That was the general idea – I couldn’t hear clearly…”

The Imperial Consort waved her hand dismissively.

In any case, what was certain was that Duke Jin’an intended to take Prince Qing out of the palace to seek medical treatment…

“Where is this doctor they’re looking for?” she asked, suddenly remembering. “Have they sent for him?”

The palace maid quickly shook her head.

“Your Highness, they’re not bringing the doctor here. They say they must go out to see the doctor,” she explained.

What?

The Imperial Consort was startled.

“The Duke intends to take Prince Qing out of the palace to see the doctor,” the palace maid explained.

“Why?” the Imperial Consort asked.

“The Duke said that summoning the doctor here would waste time going back and forth. It would be better to take Prince Qing directly to him, as the sooner his illness is treated, the better,” the maid replied, thinking carefully. She then added somewhat awkwardly, “After that, they discussed more, but I couldn’t hear clearly… In the end, His Majesty and the Empress Dowager agreed.”

The Imperial Consort asked no further questions. Her mind was entirely consumed by the idea of them leaving the palace to seek a doctor.

Those two troublemakers are finally leaving the palace!

Prince Qing was one thing – just a fool – but she truly never wanted to lay eyes on the Duke Jin’an again. It wasn’t because she despised the so-called “child-bringing aura” he was rumored to have, but simply because she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Every time she visited the Empress Dowager’s palace and saw the young man kneeling quietly to the side, she couldn’t help but feel a chill down her spine.

Whether it was a guilty conscience or not, she simply didn’t want to see him.

Sincere devotion – how noble. Why not take that sincerity to the extreme? If he can’t cure Prince Qing, he might as well never return.

Never return…

The Imperial Consort’s steps halted abruptly, her heart racing.

That last wish of mine went unfulfilled, but this time…

“Nunu,” she called out.

A palace maid silently approached from the side.

The Imperial Consort beckoned her closer and whispered a few instructions. The maid nodded and withdrew.

In the depths of winter, many rivers near the capital had frozen over, making it the perfect season for ice fishing.

Inside a thatched shelter by the river, seven or eight people – young and old – were gathered, with servants standing attentively nearby.

A chorus of cheers erupted from the riverbank.

“It seems Junyan has hooked a fish,” someone in the shelter remarked with a laugh, rising to their feet. They watched as three figures approached from the river, one of whom was beaming with pride – Gao Lingjun, the grand coordinator.

“I never cared much for fishing before, always thought it was too much effort,” Gao said cheerfully. “But winter fish seem surprisingly easy to catch.”

“Master Gao, you couldn’t be more mistaken,” another person chuckled, pointing toward the frozen river. “Not everyone can just drop a line and pull one out like that.”

The group turned to look toward the riverbank, where people were scattered along the shore—some with impressive catches, others empty-handed.

Gao Lingjun had never been one to dismiss flattery or compliments. In his view, if someone went out of their way to please him, there was no need to act aloof or embarrass them. He prided himself on being easy to get along with, and he laughed heartily at the remark.

Just as he was laughing, a carriage came speeding over.

“The chef has arrived,” a man announced.

Everyone turned to look as a maid in her late teens stepped down from the carriage. She had plain features but was neatly dressed in a hooded cloak. Though the color of the cloak was subdued, a trim of fox fur hinted at its considerable value.

These days, talented chefs were highly sought after, commanding impressive incomes and often adorned in gold and silver. It was no longer surprising to see them dressed luxuriously.

But this chef seemed rather young, didn’t she?

“This is Ban Qin, known for her exceptional skill in preparing sliced fish,” someone explained to the group.

Ban Qin?

Hearing the name, a young man seated on a wooden plank not far away, fishing, turned his head. Beneath his felt hat, his handsome face became visible.

Another Ban Qin?

There was one from the Zhou family, one from the Zhang family – and now, this must be the one from the Cheng family, the maid who had been exchanged for the Zhang family’s elder’s servant.

Qin Shi’san-lang smiled faintly as he watched the maid greet the high-ranking officials with graceful composure, showing not a trace of timidity. Without further ado, she removed her cloak, tied up her sleeves, and took the fish Gao Lingjun had caught, moving aside to begin her work with quiet efficiency.

Gao Lingjun and the others returned to their seats beneath the thatched shelter, gathering around the stove to chat and laugh. They had only been conversing for a short while when the freshly prepared sliced fish was served.

The fish slices, arranged delicately on a celadon plate, were as thin as cicada wings and looked incredibly tender. Gao Lingjun couldn’t help but nod in admiration.

“This is our family’s unique dipping sauce,” Ban Qin explained as she set out several small dishes.

Gao Lingjun picked up a slice of fish, dipped it into the sauce, and placed it in his mouth. Almost immediately, he let out an appreciative hum, nodding repeatedly. As the flavor of the fish melted on his tongue, a smile spread across his face.

“Excellent, excellent, excellent,” he praised, repeating the word three times.

His approval finally put everyone at ease, and the group broke into relieved laughter.

“I’m afraid this might not be enough to satisfy everyone,” one person joked, playing along.

“You rascal, are you expecting me to go fishing just for you?” Gao Lingjun replied with a laugh.

Before anyone else could respond, a clear, bright voice chimed in from nearby.

“I happen to have caught some fish and would be honored to offer them to you.”

Everyone turned in surprise at the sound of the voice.

“Young Master Qin?” someone exclaimed without thinking.

Qin Shi’san-lang bowed to them once again.

“I pay my respect to you all,” he said.

Gao Lingjun smiled and gestured for him to rise, his eyes lingering on Qin Shi’san-lang. Of course, he recognized the young man – the Gao and Qin families were, in fact, distantly related through imperial connections. Yet, despite this, the two households had never been particularly close.

“I presume to offer fish only because I’m grown rather greedy for a taste. I hope you won’t laugh at me,” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a playful grin.

So that was it.

No one responded immediately, their gazes shifting instead to Gao Lingjun.

“If you’re craving it, then eat – you’re no stranger here. There’s no need to bring your own ingredients,” Gao Lingjun replied with a light laugh.

Only then did the others relax, joining in with laughter and banter. Qin Shi’san-lang smiled and handed his fish basket to an attendant. Ban Qin, who had been waiting nearby, reached out to take it. She glanced up briefly at Qin Shi’san-lang before lowering her head and returning to her work.

Naturally, Qin Shi’san-lang could not seat himself among the elders. Instead, a small table was set up for him to the side.

Gao Lingjun smiled and asked about his studies.

“Now that your leg has healed, you mustn’t let your studies fall behind,” he remarked with a tone of avuncular concern.

“Indeed. I’ve engaged a tutor to help me catch up on my coursework. I plan to take the imperial exams in three years, so today’s outing is just a brief respite,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied with a smile.

After a few more words, another serving of sliced fish was prepared and brought over. Qin Shi’san-lang ate a little, then rose to his feet, repeatedly expressing his thanks before taking his leave. Gao Lingjun and the others did not press him to stay, watching as he departed with his servant.

Shortly after, Ban Qin also prepared to leave.

“Wait—we’ve hardly had our fill yet!” someone exclaimed in surprise.

Could it be that the payment offered hadn’t satisfied her?

Ban Qin bowed slightly with a polite smile.

“You’ve already had four fish. Though sliced fish is delicious, it should not be overeaten, as it can easily harm the stomach and spleen,” she explained.

There was such a caution?

The group responded with murmurs of mixed belief and doubt, but Ban Qin offered no further explanation. She bowed once more and took her leave.

“This chef must be telling the truth. It’s well known that she attended to Old Master Zhang with great care, specializing in health-preserving meals and dietary adjustments. Some even learned her method of brewing tea, and it’s said that chronic conditions like old leg ailments have improved significantly thanks to her,” someone explained to the group.

The concept of dietary wellness wasn’t unfamiliar to them, and everyone quickly understood. But Gao Lingjun’s attention was caught by something else entirely.

“Who?” he asked, frowning. “Which family does this chef belong to?”

“She’s from Zhang Jiangzhou’s household—Old Master Zhang’s personal chef,” the person replied.

Zhang Jiangzhou!

Gao Lingjun’s face instantly darkened.

“Sir,” the man said with an ingratiating smile, “in the last incident, Zhang Jiangzhou actually ended up helping us.”

“By helping to convict Wang Butang?” Gao Lingjun retorted with a cold snort.

“But he also prevented Chen Shao and the others from getting their way,” another person chimed in. “Sir, think about it—if Zhang Jiangzhou hadn’t intervened, the matter might still be dragging on endlessly. The longer it goes, the more people and complications get involved…”

There was some truth to that. Although the outcome wasn’t entirely satisfactory, at least they had managed to stabilize their position.

Gao Lingjun’s expression softened slightly, though he still let out a derisive laugh.

“He wasn’t doing it to help me,” he said.

Naturally, everyone acts in their own interest.

“Sir, we don’t need him to help us now. As long as he doesn’t side with others and cause trouble for us, that’s enough,” the man whispered with a smile. “Moreover, Sir, when I went to the Zhang family to borrow their chef this time, I mentioned that I’d be accompanying you. The Zhang family agreed without a word of objection.”

What did that imply?

It implied respect.

Finally, Gao Lingjun’s expression eased.

By the time Gao Lingjun returned home by carriage, the smile on his face had yet to fade. He recounted the day’s events to his retainers in his study.

“Congratulations, Sir! Our felicitations to you!” the retainers chorused, bowing in unison.

Gao Lingjun clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.

“It was just a child craving a bite to eat, and borrowing a chef to prepare some fish – what is there to congratulate?” he chided lightly. “Why are you all making such a fuss?”

“Sir, you mustn’t see it that way,” one of the retainers replied. “Was Young Master Qin truly just there for the food? And did the Zhang family simply lend a chef out of generosity? Sir, you are thinking too modestly!”

“If not for that, then what else could it be?” Gao Lingjun asked, a smile playing on his lips.

“Naturally, it concerns… the imperial heir,” the retainer whispered with a knowing smile.

The smile on Gao Lingjun’s face widened. He stroked his beard silently, unable to conceal the gleam of triumph and delight in his eyes.

Exactly – the imperial heir. With the Emperor now having only one surviving son, it was time for those in the court to weigh their options and carefully consider where they stood.

“Sir, someone from the palace has arrived.”

The announcement from outside the door startled Gao Lingjun. He quickly instructed that the visitor be invited in. After listening to the message conveyed on behalf of the Imperial Consort, Gao Lingjun’s expression darkened.

“Absurd!” he muttered through gritted teeth, his brows furrowed. “What kind of foolishness is this – adding legs to a snake! At a time like this, others would leap at the chance to throw mud at us. Instead of keeping our distance, we’re drawing attention? If it were before, it might have been worth the risk, but now that the tiger has lost its claws and fangs, reduced to less than a dog – why waste any effort?”

Just as an eagle focuses only on rivals of its own stature or higher, paying no mind to ants beneath its feet, they were now the eagle – and Prince Qing was nothing more than an ant.

Such is fate.

Unable to contain himself, Gao Lingjun leaned against his desk and laughed.