Li Qingquan stormed into the house, face full of anger, supported by Xu Guoyi. He was muttering curses under his breath. Wang Yong dashed out, lips pursed so tightly they nearly pointed to the sky. “Shhh! The Commander just fell asleep!”
Li Qingquan quickly clamped his mouth shut and jabbed his finger at the door, motioning for Xu Guoyi to take him back out to the outer hall. Wang Yong followed. “Why the h*ll are you making such a racket? Weren’t you off to get the miracle doctor? What happened—got robbed on the road?”
“Robbed your d*mn—” Li Qingquan cursed, plopping into a chair, body limp and almost sliding off. Wang Yong grabbed him by the collar and propped him up. “What the h*ll happened?”
Li Qingquan gritted his teeth. “I really don’t want to talk about it. Just go get Doctor Jian for me.”
“Doctor Jian went back to consult his books. Doctor Bai is still here!” Wu Shunzi came in from the back with a basin of water. “Who needs a doctor?”
Xing Pingchun followed behind. When Li Qingquan saw him, he tried to stand up—but fell back heavily into the chair, muttering a curse. “Young Master? You’re back from school?”
Xing Pingchun was startled. “Uncle Li, what happened to you?” Could it be… Father beat him too?
Li Qingquan gave an embarrassed smile. “It’s nothing, nothing at all.”
Wu Shunzi carried a basin of water into the west wing. Xing Pingchun tried to follow, but Wang Yong stopped him. “Chou’er, the Commander is asleep.”
Xing Pingchun halted, not daring to disturb Xing Muzheng.
After a while, Ah Da poked out his shiny bald head and lowered his voice in a hoarse shout, “Qingquan! Where’s the divine doctor?!”
A complicated look crept across Li Qingquan’s rugged face. He rubbed his face weakly before saying, “Didn’t get him…”
It turned out that the moment Li Qingquan heard reports that a legendary doctor had appeared in Yuzhou, he had spurred his horse straight to Qingping Street, the most bustling area of the city. The doctor had been offering free consultations on the street, and people of all ages were lining up for treatment. Fearing running into acquaintances, Li Qingquan had a soldier watching the doctor go ask him to come upstairs to a teahouse for a talk. But the doctor outright refused, saying he was too busy treating patients.
Li Qingquan had no choice but to wait patiently for the consultation to finish. From upstairs, he watched the doctor treat multiple strange ailments: a child stung by a hornet was healed with a casual smear of ointment; a woman had a festering sore on her leg, and the doctor told her husband to find a black dog, ride thirty li with it, then cut off its right leg and press it to the sore. Before long, a small red snake slithered out of the wound into the dog’s leg—and the woman recovered.
Seeing this, Li Qingquan was convinced the doctor’s reputation was well-earned. After the doctor packed up, Li intercepted him in an alley and humbly begged him to come to the marquis’s residence. But the first thing the doctor asked was whether the patient was male or female—he had a rule: he did not treat men who had undergone the coming-of-age ceremony.
Li Qingquan was baffled, even thought it absurd, but the doctor stood firm. The moment he heard it was a man, he turned and walked away. Li Qingquan tried suggesting vaguely that the patient was an “important person,” but still no use. When soft tactics failed, he tried force. But unexpectedly, before he could even lay a hand on the doctor, his whole body went weak and collapsed to the ground.
If it had been the battlefield, he’d have died ten times over.
He returned, helped by his men, completely ashamed.
“You came back empty-handed?” someone asked.
“Don’t worry. I’ve already arranged for someone to keep an eye on him. He won’t leave Yuzhou. I’ll go again tomorrow!” Li Qingquan gritted his teeth. He refused to believe this nonsense!
“I’ll go too,” Xing Pingchun said. “My father is sick—I should go get a doctor for him.”
“Well… alright then, Young Master. We’ll go together…”
Just then, a messenger burst in. “Report! A message has arrived by pigeon post!”
Wang Yong took the small scroll, opened it, and beamed. “Peng Shi and the others estimated their travel time—they’ll be back tomorrow!”
“Really?” Li Qingquan shot up, then his legs gave out and he fell back into the chair. “What time tomorrow?”
“Don’t know the exact hour.”
“Then hurry, send another message—tell them to ride through the night!”
That night, Dingxi Marquis awoke from pain and went into another frenzy. Xing Muzheng drifted in and out of unconsciousness, caught in an unending cycle of agony. In a rare moment of clarity, he realized—he might not live to see the morning.
His pain was indescribable. It was as if the flesh beneath his skin had turned to ashes—so fragile it would crumble at the lightest touch.
Xing Muzheng had fought on countless battlefields, each time prepared to die. He wasn’t afraid of death. But now… he didn’t want to die.
The ghostly force seemed to realize this body was on the brink. Still bound to the bed, he let out a despairing scream.
In the east wing, Qian Jiaoniang slapped the bed in frustration. “With all that yelling, how is anyone supposed to sleep?! Qingya, help me up.”
In the darkness, Qingya let out a sigh. She didn’t stop her. She knew she couldn’t. She got out of bed, lit the lamp, helped Jiaoniang dress, and supported her as she got out of bed to sit on a chair. “Just wait here. Don’t move around.”
With that, Qingya turned to leave. Jiaoniang quickly asked, “Where are you going?”
“To call someone!” Qingya replied as she stepped out. Moments later, she returned with Ah Da and Wu Shunzi following behind. “They’ll carry you over.”
Qian Jiaoniang scoffed, “That’s not necessary.”
Qingya glared at her. “You’re like a willow in the wind—you’ll blow over in a breeze, and you think it’s unnecessary? You won’t even make it across the courtyard before fainting. If they don’t carry you, then you’re not going!”
Qian Jiaoniang raised her hands in surrender. Ah Da and Wu Shunzi moved in—one lifted the chair while the other steadied her—and carefully carried her out.
Ah Da’s voice was hoarse. “Madam, please go see the Commander. We really don’t know what else to do.”
Only then did Qian Jiaoniang notice Ah Da’s nose was red. Had he been crying?
The two men carefully carried her to the west wing. As they stepped over the threshold, the muffled cries inside swallowed them whole.
She saw Xing Muzheng—his arms and legs were bound to the four corners of the bed. The veins in his neck bulged. He clenched his fists and screamed through the cloth gag. When he saw her, he thrashed even harder.
Xing Muzheng hadn’t expected Qian Jiaoniang to come. Ah Da had told him she was still very ill—walking made her vomit, standing made her faint. He could also see the glaring bandage on her forehead, and how carefully she steadied herself before taking each step toward him.
When had she ever been this cautious? She must be feeling truly awful to act so reserved. As Ah Da and Wang Yong had said, Xing Muzheng himself had seen more than one man die suddenly after a head injury. She shouldn’t have come. She should be resting.
