My Cold-Hearted Wife Chapter 14

The sun was setting, and all the pilgrims had already returned home.

Cheng Danruo packed up her medicine box and went up the mountain with Bai Zhi. These past few days, they had been staying at Tianxin Temple, and because of the formula for the Willow Bough Jade Dew, the temple did not charge her for lodging.

The small courtyard was quiet. Pushing open the door, she heard no sound of anyone inside.

Bai Zhi immediately grew angry. “Nanny Hao is slacking off again. You’re back, miss, and there’s no hot water, no meal prepared.”

Cheng Danruo let out a sigh.

She could not very well go up the temple to worship alone, so Lady Huang had sent an old maid and a coachman to accompany her, ostensibly to look after her.

But Nanny Hao was hardly a good sort. When it came to work, she made every excuse to shirk it and was a master of dodging duty and cutting corners. That morning, when Cheng Danruo had said she was going down the mountain to offer free medical consultations, Hao had pleaded heatstroke and said she needed to rest indoors and keep an eye on the courtyard.

And now? There was not a trace of her to be seen, and she had not even bothered to bring Cheng Danruo her meal.

“Forget it,” Cheng Danruo said, calling back Bai Zhi, who was about to go looking for her. “I’ll go fetch the meal myself. You fumigate the room – it’s getting dark, and we don’t want insects crawling all over the place.”

Bai Zhi said, “Miss, you really shouldn’t indulge these old maids so much. They just bully the weak when they sense softness.”

“I’m not indulging her; I just have no other choice,” Cheng Danruo replied. Even legitimate masters could be pushed around by old retainers who had been in the household for years – how much more so for her, an orphan girl living on others’ charity?

The fact was, they were taking advantage of her precisely because they could, and she had no way to fight back.

If she complained to Lady Huang, the most Lady Huang would do was give Nanny Hao a few perfunctory scoldings to her face – after all, Nanny Hao was still Lady Huang’s own person. And all that would accomplish would be to give people more reason to gossip behind her back and earn Lady Huang’s displeasure.

As for coercion or bribery – that was even more absurd.

Where would she get the leverage? Where would she get the means?

Infighting in a household required some cards to play. Unless she was prepared to finish someone off with a dose of medicine, she truly had no cards at all.

All she could do was swallow it and let it pass.

The mistress and her maid split up to handle their tasks – one to tidy the room and fetch hot water, the other to go to the kitchen and collect their meal.

The vegetarian fare at Tianxin Temple was not bad. Cheng Danruo gave half of her dishes to Bai Zhi and told her to go eat in her own room, while she herself stayed behind, ready to enjoy a quiet dinner on her own.

She suddenly sneezed just as she was about to eat a piece of vegetarian meat.

Cheng Danruo pulled her clothes tighter around herself, wondering if she had caught a chill from the wind.

Just as she was about to pick up a slice of vegetarian ham – “Atchoo!” – another sneeze.

Alarm bells went off in her mind. She immediately rose, poured herself a cup of hot water, then glanced around and discreetly took a sachet of banlangen from her sleeve. She tipped it into the cup, stirred it quickly, and drank it down in one go.

Then she rinsed the cup with more water to wash away the smell of the herbal medicine, sat back down as if nothing had happened, and resumed eating.

Then came the third one.

“Atchoo.”

She muttered to herself, “Who’s talking about me behind my back?”

Who could it be?

Just one courtyard away, in a clean and quiet guest room, Yan Hongzhi was having dinner with Abbot Mengjue, with Xie Xuanying in attendance beside his teacher, holding the wine pitcher for him.

Naturally, their conversation turned to Cheng Danruo.

Abbot Mengjue pointed at the iced jelly on the table and said, “This is the recipe that Miss Cheng kindly gave to our temple. It generates saliva to quench thirst, cools the body, and reduces internal heat – most refreshing to eat in the summer.”

The iced jelly was topped with sesame seeds, peanuts, and brown sugar, making it even more sweet and flavorful than an ordinary drink.

After eating half a small bowl of it, Yan Hongzhi said, “The ingredients themselves are nothing special; what’s remarkable is the originality of the recipe. But I suspect it’s a family recipe passed down from the girl’s household – how could you feel at ease accepting it?”

“To accept it is itself an act of compassion,” said Abbot Mengjue, and then went on to briefly explain Cheng Danruo’s background. “Miss Cheng’s family was from Datong. During the chaos of the Cold Dew Rebellion, her entire clan was wiped out, and she has no living relatives left in the world.”

The Cold Dew Rebellion referred to the tragedy five years earlier, when the Oirat Mongols broke through Juyong Pass and invaded the Datong region. The soldiers of the Great Xia dynasty suffered repeated defeats, and the barbarians massacred several cities, killing nearly a hundred thousand people.

When the news broke at the time, the entire nation was shocked.

Even more disgraceful was the fact that the barbarians were not driven back by force -they simply withdrew on their own because their supply lines had grown too long and they had already plundered enough spoils.

At this, even Xie Xuanying could not help but feel some sympathy. When one lost both parents, there was still the clan to rely on; but when the entire clan was wiped out, that truly left one utterly destitute and adrift in the world.

“Miss Cheng wished to honor her parents by lighting an eternal flame for them here, but unfortunately she had no extra money, so she offered her recipes in exchange,” said Abbot Mengjue unhurriedly. “If I had not accepted them, how could she have felt at ease? Only by accepting could I live up to her filial devotion.”

Yan Hongzhi sighed a couple of times, expressing his full agreement, and then remarked with feeling, “Last year’s floods along the Yangtze left countless victims. Many able-bodied men, with all their limbs intact, took to begging for a living. Yet this young lady, despite her own desolate circumstances, remains resilient and kind-hearted – offering free medical consultations at the foot of the temple, helping all who suffer. How many men are not even her equal!”

Abbot Mengjue could not help but ask, “I have heard something of this matter – was the Yangtze flood truly so severe?”

“Indeed it was. In the past twenty or thirty years, floods have struck every four or five years, far more severely than in the previous dynasty,” said Yan Hongzhi. Yan was no pedantic scholar who only discussed the classics in the abstract; he took great interest in practical state affairs. “If the court continues to neglect this, it will surely lead to great disaster.”

Abbot Mengjue nodded, and the two of them moved on to a new discussion about flood control measures across various dynasties.

At this very moment, they had no idea that the floods along the Yangtze would only grow more severe in the years to come – and that neither the Ming, nor the Qing, nor Great Xia could ever fully address the root cause.

Why did the Yangtze suffer from such frequent flooding?

If asked, Cheng Danruo could have answered immediately – a question that had two of the greatest scholars of the age locked in deep debate.

The cause of the floods was the reclamation of lakes for farmland, and behind the felling of mountains and forests lay the inevitable conflict brought about by a growing population.

Great Xia was founded in 1370, two years later than the Ming dynasty. Over a century had now passed – the very era in which Magellan was circumnavigating the globe.

Feudal society had reached its most splendid – and its most perilous – stage.

But what did any of this have to do with an orphaned girl who had lost both her parents?

She and Bai Zhi had each eaten their dinner, washed up briefly, and gone to bed early.

The meditation chambers in the temple carried the deep, lingering scent of sandalwood. The aura of this otherworldly place quieted the tangled thoughts in her mind, and she soon fell asleep.

Perhaps it was because she had set aside her worries about tending to the sick – this sleep was deep and sweet, as if she might never wake, her body weighed down with an immense fatigue.

Through the haze, it seemed someone was calling her.

Was it dawn?

Cheng Danruo struggled to pry open her eyelids, but her body showed no sign of rousing.

She thought to herself, Oh, so I really am coming down with a cold. That sachet of banlangen I took before bed was utterly useless.

As she drifted in these idle thoughts, someone gave her a gentle shake. “Miss, wake up.”

Cheng Danruo finally opened her eyes and propped up her heavy head. “What is it?”

“A young monk from the temple came to knock on the door. He said a pilgrim has been bitten by a snake,” Bai Zhi explained in a soft voice. “It seems rather serious. He asked if you could go take a look.”

She seemed hesitant, and after a moment’s pause, advised, “Miss, it’s a male visitor, and it’s the dead of night. Why don’t I go and turn them down?”

Cheng Danruo pressed her temples, thought for a moment, and said, “I’d better go.”

Bai Zhi said, “Then I’ll go call Nanny Hao…”

“Calling her will only cause trouble – she’ll definitely find some way to gossip about me.” Cheng Danruo slipped on her embroidered shoes, tied her outer robe, and splashed a handful of cold water on her face, finally feeling a bit more awake. “It’s fine. She won’t get up until the sun is high. Just tell her we’ve gone down the mountain to offer free consultations – she won’t ask any more questions.”

She picked up her medicine box. “Let’s go. A snake bite can be minor or serious – we mustn’t delay.”

Outside, the sky was still scattered with stars. A cool breeze blew past, and Cheng Danruo shivered.

At the gate of the courtyard, the young monk she knew was waiting anxiously. Seeing her come out, he quickly raised his lantern to light the way. “Miss Cheng, how merciful of you – please, come quickly with me.”

Cheng Danruo was fully awake now and asked, “What kind of snake was it? How long ago did it happen? Where is the patient?”

The young monk was not yet ten years old – which was precisely why he had been sent to knock on her door at this late hour – but he spoke clearly and nimbly, “I don’t know what kind of snake it was. About fifteen minutes ago. Master Yan has already been carried back to his meditation chamber.”

Cheng Danruo found this odd. “What do you mean? Was he not bitten indoors, but outside?”

“The moonlight was especially beautiful tonight, so Master Yan went up the mountain to enjoy the view,” the young monk answered earnestly.

Cheng Danruo was speechless for a moment. “And how is the patient doing?”

The young monk’s face tightened, and his voice turned dry. “Very badly.”

She had nothing to say to that, but she did not press the child further and simply quickened her pace.

Fortunately, the destination was not far from the courtyard where she was staying – she arrived in less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick. As soon as she stepped through the door, she saw an elderly man reclining on a couch. Candles flickered, their glow swaying in the dim light. The young gentleman standing before the bed turned his head – and in that instant, it was as if pearls and jade had come to life, and the dark meditation chamber was suddenly filled with radiance.

He wore a robe the color of moonlight, and his ink-black hair cascaded like a waterfall. At first glance, it was hard to tell whether he was man or woman, immortal or spirit; one only felt that such a scene did not belong to the mortal world, and such a face was not of this earthly realm.

It was like an encounter with a beautiful apparition in an ancient temple from a Strange Tales story.

“Miss Cheng.” Xie Xuanying lowered his gaze. “I apologize for disturbing you so late at night – it could not be helped. Please, would you take a look at my teacher?”

Cheng Danruo snapped back to attention and stepped forward, setting her medicine box on the ground. “Where is the wound?”

The old man stretched out his leg with an expression of deep embarrassment. “My apologies for the impropriety.”

“Roll up your pant leg and let me see the injury.” Saving a life was as urgent as putting out a fire. Cheng Danruo temporarily set aside all distracting thoughts, opened her medicine box, and began giving instructions.

Xie Xuanying hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly helped roll up the pant leg.

On the lower calf was a red, swollen wound, still bleeding.

Cheng Danruo took a small bronze mirror from her medicine box, held it close to the candle, and used the reflection of the flame to examine the wound carefully. “Do you know what kind of snake bit you?”

Yan Hongzhi leaned back against the soft pillow and answered weakly, “The snake was in the shade – I didn’t get a clear look at it.”

“Breathe slowly. Don’t be nervous. I’ll ask, and you answer – alright?” Cheng Danruo’s tone was gentle yet cool, inexplicably reassuring. “Do you feel short of breath?”

Yan Hongzhi endured, trying not to lose his composure: “It’s bearable. It’s just that the wound hurts terribly.”

“Does it feel hot, or does it feel swollen?”

“Both hot and swollen.”

“Don’t tense up.” Cheng Danruo took out a strip of white cotton cloth and loosely tied it above the wound. She then produced two clean cotton pads, moistened them with water from a bamboo tube, and used tweezers to hold the damp gauze as she gently wiped away the grime around the wound.

She asked again, “Does it hurt?”

Yan Hongzhi replied, “Bearable, bearable.”

“There are still broken fangs in the wound. I need to remove them now – it will hurt a bit.” The best course of action for a snakebite was to get to a hospital immediately for antivenom. But under these circumstances, all she could do was rely on folk remedies and basic first aid – and leave the rest to luck.

Cheng Danruo picked up her copper tweezers, held them over the candle flame for a moment to sterilize them, then told Bai Zhi to hold the lantern close for light. She bent down and carefully began picking out the broken venomous fangs.

Yan Hongzhi gritted his teeth against the pain, regretting it so deeply he wished he could turn back time.

It was all his old friend’s fault – he had said that half a year ago, while meditating under the moon, he had suddenly glimpsed a five-colored lunar halo and experienced a spiritual awakening. That had piqued Yan Hongzhi’s curiosity so much that, in the middle of the night, he simply had to go out and admire the moon himself.

And then – he got bitten by a snake…

Xie Xuanying was both exasperated and helpless.

He knew well that his teacher was most afraid of pain, though he was too proud to show it in front of outsiders. Once, when he had fallen while climbing the mountain and had to have his bone set at home, he had kept crying out for his wife.

“Ah-Jing – it hurts so much!” That was how he had wailed to his wife.

Unable to bear seeing him suffer, his wife had gone to the kitchen herself and made him a most delicious bowl of chicken noodle soup.

“Sir, please bear with it a little longer.” In the end, Xie Xuanying’s heart softened, and his irritation faded. He asked earnestly, “Shall I ask the young monk to go to the kitchen and prepare a bowl of plain noodles for you?”

Yan Hongzhi shot him a look of disdain. Was it noodles that he wanted to be comforted by?

It was his wife – his wife!