My Cold-Hearted Wife Chapter 16

Now is not the time to discipline servants. Xie Xuanying pressed his lips together and asked, “Doctor Cheng…”

Cheng Danruo said, “I need to modify the prescription. Is there a brush and paper available?”

Baimu, showing more awareness this time, quickly brought over paper and brush, ground the ink, and handed the brush to her.

She pondered for a moment before writing down the prescription.

Xie Xuanying leaned in to look, seeing: “Cicada slough, white stiff silkworm, white chrysanthemum…” – indeed, it was a formula for clearing heat and detoxifying.

Only, the handwriting was rather poor – passable in legibility at best, wholly lacking in structural strength. Moreover, it was full of vulgar abbreviations; while not hindering comprehension, it was unavoidably a bit sloppy and casual.

As the handwriting reveals the person, was this young lady observant of propriety, or was she not?

“In saving lives, speed is what matters most.” She seemed to see through his doubt and explained, “Vulgar characters are common among the common folk, and the pharmacy clerks all recognize them.”

Xie Xuanying nodded, slightly ill at ease, and said, “I meant nothing by it.”

Cheng Danruo smiled and instructed the servant. “First go ask the monks here at the temple if they have any. If they do, it saves us a trip down the mountain – going back and forth would take quite some time.”

The servant boy replied, “I understand.”

The medicinal ingredients were all common ones, and the temple indeed had them in stock. They were hurriedly fetched and decocted over a tea stove.

Cheng Danruo also examined the snakebite wound – the redness and swelling had not subsided, but neither had it festered. She thus knew it was not severe. She left instructions for them to administer the medicine promptly and did not stay longer.

She was already unbearably hungry and hurried back to the meditation room as fast as she could.

However, Bai Zhi came out to meet her with red-rimmed eyes, saying, “Nanny Hao collected our meal portions, but only left us two bowls of leftover rice. Miss…”

Cheng Danruo’s eyelid twitched. “Leftover rice? She ate my dishes?”

Bai Zhi held back tears and nodded pitifully.

Cheng Danruo was silent for a moment, then said, “Where’s the rice? Soak it with hot tea and eat it first.”

“Miss!” Even though Bai Zhi was usually composed, she could no longer hold back. “Are we just going to let this slide?”

Cheng Danruo suppressed the irritability brought on by low blood sugar and said patiently, “Of course not. But the urgent matter right now is not to confront her – it’s to fill our stomachs. Once we’ve eaten, we’ll figure out what to do.”

For ordinary maids in ordinary families – just like ordinary employees in ordinary companies – simply getting their own work done steadily was already passing grade.

Lazy and slippery types like Nanny Hao, and sycophantic bullies like Que’er, were everywhere.

A maid like Bai Zhi, who was both willing to work and loyal, already scored a 70. She couldn’t be expected to solve every problem for her mistress.

“See, you’re hungry too, aren’t you?” Cheng Danruo reasoned gently.

Only then did Bai Zhi calm down and prepare to heat tea for the rice-soaking.

Cheng Danruo, meanwhile, found her salt packet from the medicine kit she carried and sprinkled a little salt into the rice. The mistress and maid ate two bowls of steaming tea-soaked rice, replenished their energy, and then began discussing what to do.

“You go to the kitchen this afternoon, spend some money, and get a plate of pastries,” Cheng Danruo instructed her. “No need for too much – a small portion will do.”

Bai Zhi, still burning with indignation, said excitedly, “Miss, are you going to catch her in the act?”

“And what use would it be if we did?” Cheng Danruo sighed. She couldn’t afford to pick a fight with a shameless old servant. “And don’t keep thinking about venting your anger. If we offend Nanny Hao, she could just find a few scoundrels, tell them that there are only two weak women here, and if something happens in the dead of night, who would stand up for us?”

Bai Zhi was frightened by the scene she painted, a mix of fear and alarm. “It wouldn’t come to that, would it? Even Tianxin Temple – they wouldn’t dare break in here.”

“Are there no monks with impure hearts in the temple?” Cheng Danruo countered. “Just let her settle down – that’s enough.”

Bai Zhi was still unwilling, but she knew that what her mistress said made sense. What she really minded was the money. “Even a plate of plain vegetarian pastries costs over ten coppers.”

Cheng Danruo said, “Go on. Do as I say.”

Only then did Bai Zhi agree.

In the afternoon, the rain continued to drizzle down without pause, showing signs of growing heavier. In such weather, there was no question of holding the free clinic.

Bai Zhi soon returned with the pastries. Before entering, she deliberately announced, “Miss, the pastries are here.”

The vegetarian pastries made by Tianxin Temple were white cakes – plain, without filling, sweetened with a bit of sugar, and quite filling. Unfortunately, there were only four pieces in a plate. Cheng Danruo and Bai Zhi each took one, and the remaining two were sprinkled with powdered croton seeds, turned over, and placed back on the plate.

The plate was casually left on the table by the entrance.

“Since there’s nothing to do this afternoon, I’ll take a nap. You rest as well,” Cheng Danruo told Bai Zhi.

Bai Zhi acknowledged this, drew the mosquito net closed for her, and then went to the side room to doze off.

Cheng Danruo soon felt drowsy. In a hazy state, she sensed someone slip quietly into the room and leave just as quickly. She smiled to herself and promptly drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, the white cakes on the table were indeed gone, but a foul stench was wafting from the latrine.

Bai Zhi crept in and whispered, “That old hag has been at it for a full hour – serves her right!”

“Give her a dose of medicine and let her recover properly. She doesn’t need to attend to us for the next couple of days,” Cheng Danruo instructed her. “I know what you’re about to say – halve the medicinal ingredients. It’ll take her three to five days to get better, but it won’t threaten her life.”

Bai Zhi let out a breath of relief and said cheerfully, “I will go at once.”

Cheng Danruo turned her gaze to the window, where the rain curtain flowed ceaselessly. She didn’t want to stay here inhaling the stench, so she simply took her umbrella and stepped out to clear her mind.

No need to see patients, no need to wait on the old madam – this rare moment of leisure should not be wasted.

Stepping out of the meditation room, her eyes were met with lush green.

Raindrops fell on the stone steps, rolling off in strings of beads. The mountain air was thick with mist, as if in a ethereal fairyland. The earth gave off the distinctive rank scent of the rainy season, and all kinds of tiny creatures had crawled out – the steps were covered with squirming little things.

Cheng Danruo did not dare to venture deep into the mountains. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she made her way to the pavilion at the back to sit for a while.

The rain was so heavy that the monks were either chanting sutras or attending to their devotional duties – not a single soul was about. She walked into the pavilion, closed her umbrella, and gazed into the distance.

Greyish-white clouds pressed down on the horizon, while crystalline raindrops wove a curtain like glass. Birds perched in the trees to take shelter from the rain, pecking at their feathers and shaking off the clinging droplets.

The hibiscus planted by the pavilion had been beaten down by the rain, its remnant crimson scattered across the ground and washed into the drainage ditches.

The world was so quiet that only the sound of rain could be heard.

Cheng Danruo sat down, leaning against the railing, and suddenly relaxed.

Living in ancient times, she had crafted many personas for herself: a filial daughter of outstanding virtue, a kind and benevolent physician, a magnanimous and gentle young lady… Playing different roles for different people.

It was precisely by relying on this principle of “managing her persona” that she kept her facades separate from her true self, so that she would not, in the course of living, forget where she came from.

And now, this was her moment of returning to herself.

At times like this, she wanted nothing to do, nothing to say – she only wanted to be alone in quietude, letting her mind go blank, and then blanker still.

On the other side of the hibiscus, Xie Xuanying stopped in his tracks under the corridor.

By all rights, upon seeing someone – and a young lady at that – in the pavilion, he should have withdrawn to avoid impropriety.

But for some reason… whether it was curiosity or simply that he paused for a moment, he took one more look.

Little did he know that many a story’s beginning springs from just such a glance.

Only, unlike in legends and romantic tales, what Xie Xuanying saw was not the maiden’s stunning and lively side, but a face that was detached and weary.

Gone was last night’s composure, gone the clever wit of her impromptu tricks – all her vivacity had vanished. She rested her head on her hand, eyelids lowered, her countenance haggard, so fragile that she looked as though she might perish at any moment.

Xie Xuanying furrowed his brows slightly.

Though he had been raised in luxury and splendor, he had traveled extensively with his teacher and had seen something of the hardships of the common people. Her appearance reminded him of some of the refugees he had encountered.

Their eyes, too, were dim and somber – as if merely staying alive had already drained all their strength, leaving them with no hope for the future, just getting through one day at a time.

Miss Cheng was in the prime of her youth and lacked for neither food nor clothing –how could she be like this?

Had she run into some trouble?

He pondered this, recalling what Bai Mu had said earlier.

That attendant was quite sharp; he had long ago struck up a conversation with her maid and not only learned of her background and origins but also uncovered several misdeeds of the old servants of the Chen family who bullied their young mistress.

At noon today, when he went to fetch the meal, he had overheard the young novice monk tending the fire say that the old nanny had taken the meal but eaten it herself, leaving Doctor Cheng to go hungry, and that the maidservant had to spend money to buy pastries.

Despicable, insolent servants.

He was lost in thought when he suddenly caught sight of someone approaching from ahead – a young novice monk carrying a basket.

“Doctor Cheng,” he said breathlessly. “I finally found you. These are eggs sent by the son of Old Madam Wang from down the mountain, to thank you for saving his mother yesterday.”

With someone approaching, Cheng Danruo roused herself and resumed the demeanor of a gentle and amiable young lady. “The free clinic does not accept consultation fees. Please return them.”

The young novice pulled a wry face. “I said that, but he insisted on giving them. He said you don’t take fees, but you didn’t say you don’t take eggs. They’re not worth much anyway – every country household has them.”

A patient’s gratitude is a physician’s greatest fortune.

She looked at the basket – there were quite a few eggs, about a dozen, though none were large; they had likely been saved up for some time. After a moment’s thought, she picked out two and handed another to the young novice. “Tell him that with the weather so hot, they won’t keep. These are more than enough. If he sends any more, I won’t take a single one.”

The young novice was given an egg and felt a little shy, but he was tempted and carefully tucked it into his robe. “I’ll go at once.”

Cheng Danruo watched him leave, then took up her umbrella and headed toward the kitchen.

Xie Xuanying, fearing he would run into her, quickly turned back – and nearly collided head-on with the attendant who had just arrived.

“Young master…” Bai Mu swallowed the rest of his words under his master’s piercing gaze.

Cheng Danruo glanced in their direction, seeming not to notice anything amiss, and continued along the pebbled path until she was out of sight.

Xie Xuanying let out a quiet breath of relief and turned to ask, “How is my teacher?”

“He has woken up and taken his medicine.” Bai Mu ventured, “Should we ask Doctor Cheng to take another look?”

“I’ll go see him first.” He shot Bai Mu a cold glance and said sternly, “Even common folk know to repay kindness – how much more so should we?”

Baimu asked, “Huh? You mean…”

“Go to the kitchen and give them a word,” Xie Xuanying said. “Do I need to teach you that too?”

Bai Mu finally understood. “Yes, I will go at once.”

Xie Xuanying strode away.

Upon returning to the meditation courtyard, Yan Hongzhi was indeed already awake, being fed congee by a servant.

Abbot Mengjue sat nearby, clicking away at his counting rods.

“Sir.” Though Xie Xuanying was an aristocratic young master, he was dutiful in attending to his teacher and stepped forward to take the bowl of congee from the servant’s hands.

Yan Hongzhi raised his hand to stop him. “I don’t need you here. Go help Zisi – his literary talent is brilliant, but his arithmetic is only half-baked.”

Abbot Mengjue’s secular name was Su Yi, styled Zisi. Though he had been a monk for many years, his old friend still addressed him by his former courtesy name.

Hearing his friend’s teasing, Abbot Mengjue took no offense and said, “It’s never too late to start now. But San-lang, since you calculate faster than I do, come help me solve this difficult problem.”

Xie Xuanying looked – it was a problem about building a dike.

It turned out that Tianxin Temple was located near the Yangtze River, and the monk wished to use the temple’s influence to raise funds for reinforcing the dike. He was currently calculating the increased area of the dike’s cross-section and the materials required.

It was indeed a complex problem. The common method available at the time was based on example problems from the General Treatise on River Works, which provided a ready-made approach, but the actual situation was clearly more complicated.

First, one had to determine the southern and northern heights of the dike, the length and width of the dike, and how much it needed to be widened.

Then, double the southern height and add the northern height; combine this with the average of the upper and lower widths at the southern end, and multiply.

Next, double the northern height and add the southern height; combine this with the average of the upper and lower widths at the northern end, and multiply.

Then, combine the two figures, multiply by the dike’s length, and one obtains six times the cross-sectional volume. Divide by six, and the remainder is the fractional part.

Xie Xuanying manipulated the counting rods and recorded with his brush.

“10113.33?” When he was one step away, someone beside him gave the answer.

He looked up sharply.