Jiao Niang’s Medical Record Chapter 476

As soon as he said this, the smile on the maid’s face vanished completely.

She slowly stepped inside and waved her hand; Manager Lin immediately bowed his head and hurried out, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Young Master Han, what do you mean by that?” the maid asked.

“You must already know,” Han Yuanchao said, “that I became the proprietor of Tai Ping Residence in a rather inexplicable way. It’s only today that I’ve learned your esteemed owner is Lady Cheng.”

“So,” the maid said with a faint smile, “you are still acting because of the rumors going around.”

Han Yuanchao nodded, his expression calm.

“You could say that,” he replied. “I’ve heard the rumors, and I’ve come to understand much more besides. That’s why I’ve made this decision. But it’s not out of fear of disaster or implication – I simply do not agree with, cannot approve of, and do not like your mistress’s way of doing things. As they say, when the paths differ, one cannot make plans together.”

“My lady hasn’t done anything wrong. What she’s done isn’t what they say she’s done,” Ban Qin said in a trembling voice. “My lady is a good person.”

“I never said your lady wasn’t a good person,” Han Yuanchao replied, smiling faintly. “Your lady is a good person – otherwise, she wouldn’t have given me a share of the profits simply because I once spoke up for that cook’s wife.”

“No, no, that’s not it,” Ban Qin shook her head again and again, hurrying a few steps forward. “Young Master Han, that’s not what it means.”

The maid beside her reached out to stop her, her face expressionless as she looked at Han Yuanchao.

“There are many kinds of good people,” Han Yuanchao went on. “Unfortunately, your lady’s way of doing things does not align with my own sense of right and wrong. I hope you can understand.”

“And what exactly is wrong with my lady’s way of doing things?” the maid asked, lifting her chin. “That you should find her so distasteful?”

Han Yuanchao gave a small smile.

“It wouldn’t be very proper for me to say that out loud,” he said.

“Hua Xin cut ties with Jin Feishu for his conduct – shouldn’t you at least let us know why my lady is no longer worthy to be called your friend?” the maid said.

“Lady Cheng sought to redress her sworn brother’s injustice,” Han Yuanchao replied, “yet instead of presenting the Divine Arm Bow directly, she first gathered the crowd to stir their emotions. And before His Majesty, she refused to play the qin when invited, claiming her music was not meant for others to hear – what kind of reasoning is that?”

Such questions were far beyond Ban Qin’s ability to answer.

“My lady must have her reasons for doing what she did,” she said in a trembling voice.

“My lady acts only according to her heart,” the maid said, holding Ban Qin back and lifting her chin.

Han Yuanchao smiled.

“And so do I,” he said.

“Then why don’t you just say it straight – do you agree with what that Feng Lin said?” the maid demanded through clenched teeth.

Han Yuanchao nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Your mistress is one who feigns loyalty with great deceit. She and I are not of the same path.”

Feigns loyalty with great deceit!

The maid’s face flushed crimson.

“Han Jun!” she shouted, pointing a shaking finger at him.

Han Yuanchao cupped his hands in a polite bow and started to step away, but then something occurred to him. He stopped, turned back, and looked at the maid.

“Miss Ban Qin – have you, by any chance, passed through Panjiang County recently?” he asked.

“No. I’ve never left the capital,” the maid replied coldly.

As I thought.

Han Yuanchao nodded slightly, raised his hand once more in parting, and turned to stride toward the door.

“Young Master Han – Young Master Han!” Ban Qin called after him, hurrying a few steps forward until she stood before him. Tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks.

“Why are you all treating my lady this way? Why are you all treating her like this?”

“Miss,” Han Yuanchao said, “it’s only that our paths differ – this is about the matter, not the person.”

He cupped his hands again.

“Still, I owe your lady my thanks for the generosity she once showed.”

Just as he stepped out the door, Han Yuanchao suddenly saw a girl standing in the corridor, looking straight at him. He stopped in his tracks.

“Miss!” Ban Qin ran over to her, covering her face as she broke into sobs.

So this was the famed Lady Cheng?

Her features were striking, her attire composed and elegant – at a glance, she carried an uncommon grace.

The girl before him gave a faint smile and lowered herself into a deep, formal bow.

Han Yuanchao quickly took a step aside, avoiding her gaze.

“I do not dare accept such courtesy,” he said.

“You deserve it, sir,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied with a gentle smile, rising after the bow.

Han Yuanchao glanced at her.

“Miss, your talent is vast – I only hope you put your name to good use,” he said.

“Han Jun! My lady needs no instruction from you!” the maid shouted from inside the room.

Cheng Jiao-niang raised her hand to stop her, then bowed once more to Han Yuanchao.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

So this girl really was as he thought…

Han Yuanchao gave a slight nod, said nothing more, and turned to stride away. Behind him, the young maid’s sobs grew louder and louder.

Having reached such heights – winning such renown – she must surely have known she would face attacks from all sides. Why, then, was the girl crying so bitterly? He hadn’t said anything particularly harsh; at least he hadn’t shouted for her arrest or death as Feng Lin had.

Han Yuanchao frowned slightly and glanced back. The lady was still standing where she had been, letting the little maid clutch her sleeve and weep in anguish. He turned away and descended the stairs, cutting off the sight.

Mounting his horse, Han Yuanchao did not look back. He spurred his steed forward, galloping away. After some distance, near the city gate, he came upon a teahouse. Though the weather was cold, many travelers had stopped there for a cup of tea.

“Young Master,” a servant waved him over.

Han Yuanchao urged his horse forward and dismounted, taking a seat at a table inside.

“Was it her?” his father asked as soon as he spoke.

“No,” Han Yuanchao replied, taking the steaming bowl of tea the servant handed him and warming his wind-chilled hands around it. “Ban Qin said she’s never left the capital.”

Han’s father let out a faint “oh,” tinged with disappointment.

“Even if it were her,” Han Yuanchao said, “gratitude should be repaid as gratitude, but one must still hold to what’s right.”

His father smiled and nodded.

“Yuanchao, doing this now – don’t you think it’s a bit unfeeling?” he asked. “After all, people may take it as an attempt to avoid trouble.”

“If I were to shy away from this merely for fear of being branded as one avoiding misfortune,” Han Yuanchao said, “then what difference would there be between me and Lady Cheng?”

His father laughed, lifted his tea bowl, and took a sip.

“The tea in the capital really does have a finer taste,” he said with a smile.

Han Yuanchao smiled as well and raised his own bowl to drink.

“I didn’t expect Feng Lin to move so quickly,” his father said. “We weren’t slow ourselves, yet still arrived two days after him in the capital. And I never imagined he would condemn Lady Cheng so soon.”

“The matters on the road had already stoked his anger,” Han Yuanchao replied. “Once he reached the capital and saw Lady Cheng freely entering and leaving the palace, then heard her say that her music was not meant for others’ ears – and that she was born knowing the Way – it pushed him completely over the edge.”

For a Confucian official, to speak of spirits before the Emperor or to claim the title of sage oneself – both were unthinkable acts that defied the utmost limits of tolerance.

“I truly didn’t expect things to turn out this way,” Han’s father sighed.

Before entering the capital, father and son had been occupied – one with official duties, the other shut away in study – and had heard nothing about this Lady Cheng. It was only after they set out, through the idle chatter of travelers at the post stations, that they learned of her.

Their purpose in coming to the capital was to pay respects to the owner of Tai Ping Residence. They hadn’t expected to actually meet the person – after all, such an owner was likely a high-ranking minister – but even so, everything had turned out completely different from what they imagined.

“I think perhaps this Lady Cheng isn’t as self-serving as people claim,” Han’s father said quietly. “After all, she once treated even a small matter concerning you as a great kindness.”

“Father,” Han Yuanchao replied, “self-interest isn’t something innate – it changes with one’s station and position.”

Han’s father opened his mouth as if to say more, then found he had nothing to add.

“In the end,” he said after a moment, “we don’t truly know much about Lady Cheng. All we’ve heard are rumors.”

At that, father and son fell silent and listened to the chatter around them.

“…Anyway, I think this Lady Cheng seems quite a good person. I don’t understand why Judge Feng keeps shouting to have her punished – she hasn’t taken bribes or broken the law…”

“How is she good?”

The moment those words were spoken, the conversation around them fell briefly quiet before erupting again into a jumble of arguments – about her healing, her wine-making, her calligraphy, the Divine Arm Bow, and so on.

“As for healing,” one man said, “she has three strict rules, and saving a life under her care costs a fortune. So how many people have truly been treated by her? Rather than saying she heals the sick, it’s more accurate to say she courts sensation and fame – and indeed, she’s achieved that effect; her renown has soared.”

“Then there’s the wine,” another said. “They say it was to honor her sworn brother’s spirit, but in the end, the wine is drunk by the living, and the crowd she gathered certainly came for the spectacle.”

“As for her writing, she writes but does not teach. And the Divine Arm Bow – that was presented to the court under the name of a congratulatory gift for fulfilling a personal wish, not as a patriotic offering for the ruler or the state.”

“Father,” Han Yuanchao said quietly, “if you count them one by one, every deed of hers that’s been talked about and spread has its own purpose behind it.”

“The common folk are easily impressed – they only see the spectacle. But the ministers in court are not so simple. They might be deceived for a time, but not forever. I’d wager many among them already resent her. Even the emperor, I suspect, harbors some unease. Otherwise, why would the Empress Dowager have spoken those words? But then, everyone has private motives – she has hers, others have theirs, and the Emperor has his own. No one will say it aloud. And now comes a man like Feng Lin – one who claims to have none.”

At that, Han Yuanchao set down his tea bowl.

His father gave a faint smile and shook his head.

“What a pity,” he murmured. “What a pity indeed.”

…

“Pity? What’s there to pity?”

Feng Lin set down the memorial in his hand and spoke dully, looking at Lu Zheng seated before him.

“That Lady Cheng truly is a girl of great talent,” Lu Zheng said. “Aren’t you going too far?”

Feng Lin gave a cold laugh.

“Great talent? When the heart is not upright, great talent becomes great harm,” he said. “She used her talent to seek redress for her sworn brother, to secure advantage for her kin, to beguile and sway His Majesty himself. Such talent is better not had.”

“Even if she has private motives, she hasn’t done anything evil,” Lu Zheng argued. “On the contrary, she’s helped the court rid itself of mediocrities like Jiang Wenyuan and strengthened our army – that’s a great merit.”

“Great merit?” Feng Lin picked the memorial back up, glancing at it as he spoke.
“Before Wang Mang usurped the Han throne, he too had many great merits and endless praise.”

Lu Zheng was taken aback, then couldn’t help but laugh.

“My lord, to be compared by you to Wang Mang – that lady must count herself honored indeed,” he said.

As soon as the words left Feng Lin’s mouth, he realized what he’d said – to compare a mere woman to Wang Mang was indeed going too far.

He gave a short laugh at himself, and the tense air in the hall eased at once.

Feng Lin and Lu Zheng were old acquaintances and close friends; after three years apart, now meeting again as colleagues in the Censorate, they were, in truth, glad at heart.

“Kuanzhi, you’ve changed quite a bit,” Lu Zheng said with a smile, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to him.

Feng Lin accepted it and took a sip, his gaze turning slightly aside.

“This life of mine is one I’ve only barely kept,” he said. “Otherwise, I’d have long since been a pile of bones.”

He was speaking of the fire at the post station three years ago, when he had nearly been burned to death. Even now, the memory made his heart tighten. Lu Zheng nodded in understanding.

“And the fact that I, Feng Lin, am still alive today – this life no longer belongs to me,” Feng Lin continued. “The person who saved me refused any thanks, saying it was I myself who had saved my own life. So, from that moment, I swore an oath: I would fear neither death nor hardship, and I would make full use of this life Heaven has granted me – for the country and the people, never sparing myself – as a way to repay the immense kindness of that benefactor.”

Lu Zheng nodded and took a sip of tea. He, of course, already knew the story of Feng Lin’s rescue.

“But that person,” Feng Lin went on, “not only saved my life, but also taught me how to speak – and how to be an official.”

Lu Zheng choked on his tea and broke into a fit of coughing.

“Kuanzhi!” he exclaimed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and laughing. “So you do know how to make a joke after all.”

“I’m not joking,” Feng Lin said solemnly. “In less than half an hour that night, what I heard and saw was enough to benefit me for a lifetime.”

Lu Zheng looked at him, half amused and half helpless.

“All right, all right – now I see why you’ve changed so much in these three years,” he said. “So, you met a teacher who enlightened you at first sight.”

Feng Lin nodded gravely.

“And that teacher was a woman,” Lu Zheng added with a teasing smile.

“Anyone can be a teacher,” Feng Lin replied. “There’s no distinction between man and woman, young or old.”

Lu Zheng couldn’t help but laugh.

“So your benefactor was a woman, and this Lady Cheng is also a woman…”

“How could she be compared to my benefactor?” Feng Lin cut him off sharply. “My savior was upright and righteous – how could she be compared with a woman who flaunts herself through talk of spirits and the supernatural!”