“What do you plan to do?”
Qin An asked in surprise, his voice lowered even though they were in his own home as he looked at Qin Shi’san-lang seated before him.
“Stop Duke Jin’an from taking Prince Qing to seek medical treatment? Are you out of your mind?”
By now, those who needed to know about Prince Qing’s situation in the palace were already aware, and even those who shouldn’t have known about Duke Jin’an taking Prince Qing out to find a doctor had learned of it.
There was nothing inappropriate about Duke Jin’an’s actions – the emperor had approved them, and it was precisely the kind of familial devotion and brotherly love that was expected.
For someone to step in and try to stop it now would be an affront to human ethics and natural order. Not only would they be condemned by society, but they could also lose everything in the blink of an eye.
“Lady Cheng has only just managed to keep her reputation as a divine doctor under wraps. I’m afraid this might bring her unwanted trouble…” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a light laugh.
Qin An, however, found nothing amusing about the situation, his expression growing increasingly somber.
“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” he uttered in a low, serious tone.
“Of course I know what I’m thinking,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied with a faint smile. “It’s just that I believe everything has two sides – the good and the bad, those who approve and those who disapprove, those who wish to act and those who would rather not…”
A sharp smack interrupted his words.
Qin An’s hand struck the tea table, his face dark with displeasure.
“Shi’san, you’re overthinking this,” he stated firmly.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled again.
“I know, I know. This is just my initial reaction,” he said. “A person’s first impulse is often unrealistic and reckless.”
Qin An looked at him, his expression still grim.
“Shi’san, you know what your future holds,” he said. “You must understand that some things should not even be entertained in thought – especially not such rebellious, baseless assumptions that presume to see through others’ hearts and minds!”
His voice rose sharply toward the end, heavy with emphasis.
“A nobleman is open and at ease, while a petty man is always full of distress. Those who rely on smug, clever tricks are never on the right path!”
Qin Shi’san-lang bowed his head respectfully.
“Thank you for your guidance, Father.”
Qin An fell silent for a moment, studying him.
“Then what is your second thought on the matter?” he asked.
“I intend to write her a letter, sharing some of the recent news from the capital,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied with a smile.
Qin An regarded him thoughtfully.
“Though I have never met this Lady Cheng in person,” he said suddenly, “judging by these recent events, she is entirely different from you.”
Qin Shi’san-lang looked at his father, unable to conceal his surprise.
He knew that some of the things he had done might have escaped his father’s notice at the time, but they couldn’t remain hidden forever. It didn’t shock him that his father knew of Lady Cheng – what surprised him was his father’s judgment.
She was entirely different from him?
Why would she be different from him? In truth, they were the same – both had once been physically impaired, both were clear-minded and perceptive…
His hands, resting on his knees, clenched involuntarily. On the surface, the remark seemed harmless – after all, every person was unique – yet it left him with an uneasy feeling.
To say that she and he were different felt like drawing a divide that could never be crossed, a gap that would forever keep them apart, without any intersection…
“Father…” he began urgently, though he wasn’t sure what he intended to say. He simply felt compelled to speak, as if words alone could erase that statement.
“Why was she able to persuade Zhang Jiangzhou?” Qin An continued, disregarding his son’s interjection. “Because she operates with integrity. Regardless of the overt or covert, genuine or deceptive intentions of officials like Gao and Minister Chen, and regardless of Zhang Jiangzhou’s public or private considerations, she presented her case openly and honestly. She laid out her own self-interest for them to see – without concealment, without obstruction, without underhandedness or scheming. What does this demonstrate? It shows that evil cannot triumph over righteousness, that straightforwardness can be the most unexpected strategy. This is the true way of the world.”
Qin Shi’san-lang’s face flushed slightly, and he straightened his posture.
Yes, that was exactly right. This was how she was – unhidden, unobstructed, unconcealed, and undisguised. She adhered to principles and acted with uprightness.
“There is one thing about this young lady that I particularly admire, above all else,” Qin An remarked, his expression softening as he smoothed his sleeves.
Qin Shi’san-lang looked at his father with curiosity. What was that one thing?
“With her miraculous acupuncture skills, she enabled the paralyzed Old Master Chen to sit up within three days. Behind closed doors at night, she used wine and dishes as medicine to bring the seemingly deceased Tong Neihan back to life. What would your first thought be upon hearing such feats?” Qin An asked.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled faintly.
“To be honest with you, Father, even I thought of supernatural forces and unorthodox methods,” he admitted.
“If even you reacted this way, imagine how ordinary people – men and women in the streets – would perceive it,” Qin An said. “With such divine skills, she could easily have become famous throughout the land and amassed great wealth. Yet, she chose to step back at the height of her success, deliberately suppressing her own reputation.”
“Father, she made the right choice. Otherwise, she might have fallen into the realm of superstition, much like the Way of Peace or the Maitreya Sect. Even with a massive following, such paths ultimately lead to becoming victims of the court’s blade,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied.
“Understanding the world’s affairs may seem easy when viewed from the outside, but exercising restraint while immersed in it is far from simple. The dazzle of temptation can easily cloud one’s vision,” Qin An remarked.
He paused, looking directly at his son.
“Shi’san, do you really think a person who sees so clearly and practices such restraint would need your reminder?”
Qin Shi’san-lang was momentarily taken aback.
“My son, it seems your concern has clouded your judgment,” Qin An remarked with a sudden smile.
Concern leads to confusion…
This was the first time his father had teased him in such a manner. A faint blush crept across Qin Shi’san-lang’s cheeks.
“It appears you’ve truly forgotten,” Qin An said, shaking his head as he held up three fingers. “She adheres to three strict rules in her practice.”
She does not make house calls.
She does not treat those who were not at death’s door.
She does not form marital ties with families she had treated.
As these rules echoed in his mind, Qin Shi’san-lang’s expression shifted.
She did not treat those who were not at death’s door!
“Thus, rules serve a valuable purpose,” Qin An observed, picking up his book once more.
Qin Shi’san-lang fell silent for a moment.
“Father, do you also not wish to see Prince Qing cured…?” he asked in a low voice.
Qin An looked up from the scroll in his hand.
“This is not a matter of hope or wish,” he replied. “One must face reality.”
Qin Shi’san-lang acknowledged his father’s words with a respectful “Yes” and rose to take his leave. Pausing at the doorway, he turned back.
“But what if her rules are merely rules – and she actually can cure him?” he murmured.
After all, there was a living example of a once-feebleminded child who had been healed. Could anyone truly believe she was incapable of treating Prince Qing? Even he and his father did not entirely doubt her abilities – they merely believed her rules served a wise purpose.
“Then it becomes her own choice,” Qin An said, his expression calm and detached. “Your reminder would be irrelevant.”
Qin Shi’san-lang nodded and turned to leave.
A cold breeze swept through the corridor as he walked, causing him to halt mid-step.
“It is her own choice,” he repeated softly to himself, a faint smile touching his lips. “So, each person makes their own decisions. As for the rest… it is irrelevant.”
With that, he quickened his pace and strode away.
Meanwhile, several swift horses galloped out of the capital. Though they departed from different gates, they all eventually converged, heading in the same direction.
…
In the deep of night, the lamp in the side chamber was still lit.
Ban Qin sat wrapped in her outer garment, holding a letter in her hand. On the table nearby lay another letter.
The dim lamplight cast a pale glow on her face, which seemed somewhat ashen.
In the distance, the faint barking of dogs could be heard, growing gradually closer and more persistent. Ban Qin suddenly straightened up, her expression tense. Clutching the front of her robe, she strained to listen – faint, scattered footsteps and the distant sound of hoofbeats seemed to drift in and out of hearing.
“Who goes there?”
The low, sharp challenge of the night watch could be heard outside the door.
So they had come again!
Ban Qin rose to her feet. The voices outside the door fell silent, but soon after, there was a soft knock.
“Steward Cao.”
Ban Qin opened the door and saw that it was indeed Cao Gui standing under the lantern.
His expression was grim as he gestured to her. Ban Qin closed the door behind her and followed him into the adjacent courtyard.
“Another one…”
Ban Qin murmured, staring at the letter Steward Cao handed her.
“Which family is it from this time?” she asked.
“Still claiming to be from the Zhou family,” Steward Cao replied with a bitter smile.
Four letters in one night, all purportedly from the Zhou family – the Zhous were certainly bearing the brunt of this blame…
But there was no helping it. Just as the master had said when they left the capital, whether they liked it or not, the Zhou family was bound to the young mistress for life. Like it or not, an individual and their family were inseparable – if the person was implicated, the family could never fully escape involvement.
So, when it came to matters concerning this Lady Cheng, the Zhou family could not avoid being dragged in. They were the perfect target, the most convenient scapegoat to place at the forefront.
“Something must have happened in the capital,” Steward Cao said.
“Should we wake Miss?” Ban Qin asked.
Steward Cao let out a heavy sigh, the letter in his hand feeling like a weight.
“Yes, wake her,” he replied.
Inside the room, the warmth of the brazier filled the air, and the bright candlelight illuminated the young lady reading the letters.
“…They started arriving after nightfall… I truly thought they were from the master… But the master wouldn’t send four letters in a row…” Steward Cao explained, kneeling respectfully in the corridor outside.
Cheng Jiao-niang quickly finished reading the four letters and nodded.
“I understand,” she said, rising to her feet.
Ban Qin and Steward Cao watched her, expecting further instructions, but she seemed ready to return to bed.
“Miss, what is the matter? Is it urgent?” Ban Qin finally asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned to look at her and smiled.
“These letters simply share some recent news from the capital and extend their greetings to me. Nothing urgent,” she said.
News from the capital…
Steward Cao understood immediately. It was indeed a warning, and likely not a positive one. As the saying went, no news is good news. To receive three or four letters in a single day, each from different families disguised as correspondence from the Zhous, indicated that the situation was far from ordinary.
Steward Cao’s brow furrowed with concern. Still, since the warning had reached the young mistress, he could at least breathe a little easier.
Ban Qin, however, did not overthink it like Steward Cao. If the young mistress said it was nothing, then it must be nothing. She relaxed visibly.
“Then, Miss, are we still leaving tomorrow?” she asked.
“Of course,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
As the New Year festivities drew near, Cheng Jiao-niang’s long-mentioned plan to journey to Liang-zhou was finally set in motion.
The profits from their festive goods shop in the capital had provided them with ample funds and supplies for the long journey. Ban Qin, too, was eager to escape the Cheng family and find some peace. Since none of them had deep roots here, there were no pressing ancestral rites or New Year preparations to attend to. While others were busy with holiday festivities, they focused on preparing for their travels.
Over the past few days, the carriages and horses had been readied, and they had decided to set out the next day.
“Miss, we apologize for disturbing your rest.”
Ban Qin and Steward Cao bowed and took their leave. The candle was extinguished, the door closed, and the night returned to its tranquil stillness.
Ban Qin, however, could not fall back asleep. She dozed off briefly in her clothes and rose at the first light of dawn to prepare breakfast. As daylight gradually brightened, the sounds of movement outside grew – footsteps, the noise of carriages and horses, and hushed conversations gradually filling the air with liveliness.
“Stop right there! Who are you looking for?”
Amid the bustling activity, a somewhat abrupt voice rang out.
“I’ve come from the capital and wish to pay my respects to Lady Cheng.”
Another visitor from the capital? Another letter? Ban Qin paused what she was doing, hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door.
A few steps away stood a man wrapped in a large cloak with its hood drawn up. As the Zhou family servant questioned him, he pushed back the hood, revealing a young face.
Hearing the door open, he turned toward the sound. In the morning light, he offered Ban Qin a gentle smile.
“Ah, it’s… it’s you!” Ban Qin exclaimed in surprise.
“It’s wonderful that you still remember me,” the young man replied with a soft smile, unable to conceal the joy in his eyes.
Of course, she remembered him. That time when the young mistress had fainted, if it hadn’t been for him, she might never have woken up.
Ban Qin couldn’t help but step forward.
“Young master, what brings you here?” she asked.
She hadn’t seen him since that incident. Sometimes, when she thought back, it felt almost dreamlike, as if he had never truly existed and it had all been her imagination.
She never expected him to appear so suddenly now.
Instead of answering her question, the young man glanced around, his gaze slowly sweeping over the bustling Zhou family attendants who were busy loading the carriages and tending to the horses.
“Are you… leaving?” he asked, a faint smile touching his lips.
Whether it was her imagination or not, Ban Qin felt that in the morning light, his smile suddenly took on a chilly edge. She froze for a moment.
“Yes, we’re about to set out on a journey,” she replied.
The young man nodded, the smile on his face deepening, though his eyes grew distant and somber.
“Is that so? What a coincidence,” he said slowly.
