Everyone called him strange, and perhaps they were not wrong. Even now, Feng Jiu’er still did not know this man’s name.

“I have no name,” Jian Yi said, pressing his lips together. “You may call me whatever you like.”

After all, he would not be staying here long. He simply had not yet figured out how to repay the kindness he owed Feng Qingyin. Once he had worked that out, he would leave immediately.

“I can hardly call you ‘hey,’ can I?”

“That’s fine.”

“…” Feng Jiu’er nearly rolled her eyes at him, but thinking it over, she understood. He had no intention of staying long, and no desire to leave any trace of himself in this place.

“Then let’s call you… hmm. Jian Yi.”

Feng Jiu’er turned away to fetch her medicine case and did not see the sudden darkening of Jian Yi’s expression.

His index finger curled slightly inward — a habit of his right before he reached for his sword. His sword was not on him tonight.

Even without a sword, he could kill the young person in front of him with nothing more than a tree branch.

Lost in that thought, Feng Jiu’er had already retrieved the medicine case and set it on the tea table. She said: “Come and sit on the reclining chair. I’ll give you your acupuncture.”

For this rheumatism, the pain once it flared up would last for days. Though it had not rained today, now that the episode had already been triggered, one day was not going to be the end of it.

“For this kind of condition, acupuncture alone only treats the symptoms, not the root. Medicine will be needed as well. Once you’ve gotten through these few days and the pain subsides, I’ll give you injections and prescribe medication for the underlying cause.”

Rheumatism was, in truth, quite common in this era. No one quite understood why it hurt, and physicians of this time could offer no clear explanation.

Addressing it directly was the best approach. Daily care also mattered, of course — though a young man like this would probably not want to hear her talk about health upkeep.

Jian Yi watched Feng Jiu’er with cold, still eyes as she worked, her back to him. She was laying out the silver needles one by one, passing them through flame to sterilize them.

She had her back to him like that, without a trace of wariness. Did she not realize that if he wanted to act, right now would be the perfect moment?

In truth, Feng Jiu’er knew. What she could not figure out was what she had said just now to suddenly cause him to want to kill her.

Was it because he disliked the name she had given him?

She held the silver needles in the flame, sterilizing them, while two more were pinched between her fingertips. If the person behind her made any move, she could strike first.

Still, she did her best to keep her own presence calm and unassuming — because she genuinely had not worked out how someone who, only a moment ago, had been not exactly friendly but at least without hostility, had suddenly become dangerous.

In all likelihood, it came down to the name she had given him. He did not like it.

Though that was rather petty, was it not? It was only a name.

Eventually, Jian Yi’s index finger relaxed. He walked over and sat down on the reclining chair.

Feng Jiu’er also set down the needles she had been holding in reserve, turned to face him, and began rolling up his trouser leg.

“To develop this condition so young, I suspect you suffered an injury when you were little and didn’t care for yourself properly — and were exposed to freezing cold afterward. Is that right?”

Now that his killing intent toward her had faded, Feng Jiu’er no longer regarded him as an enemy.

Right now, she was purely a physician.

Jian Yi looked at her for a long moment before giving a small nod. “When I was young, I injured my knee. I lay in the snow for three days and three nights.”

Feng Jiu’er’s brow softened, and a quiet ache moved through her unexpectedly.

How was it that children of this era had to endure so much more hardship than children in her modern world? He clearly had the bearing of a young nobleman — yet after an injury, he had lain in the snow for three days and three nights. That kind of suffering was not something most people could endure.

Though… she looked up at him and smiled lightly. “This is actually the first thing you’ve said all day, isn’t it?”

No — to be precise, it was the first thing he had said since their brief exchange early that morning.

Jian Yi said nothing more. He pressed his lips together in a cool, indifferent line.

“If you don’t like the name Jian Yi, we can change it. There’s no need to be upset over it.”

As expected — the moment the name Jian Yi came up, the coldness in his eyes deepened again. The problem truly did lie with the name.

Was Jian Yi so unpleasant a name? Not at all, actually.

Xiao Yingtao had said he chopped firewood like he was wielding a sword — and Feng Jiu’er had a habit of tacking on sequential numbering when she came up with names. Had she not also renamed Yi Nan the same way?

What was wrong with Yi? Simple, straightforward, easy to remember.

Still, if the person disliked it, there was no point in arguing. At least this time, when the two characters of Jian Yi were mentioned, his gaze was icy but there was no killing intent.

“If you don’t like it, then… let’s call you… Yi Yi? No, that sounds ridiculous. Number One?”

“Jian Yi,” Jian Yi said, looking away from her to watch her hands as she administered the needles.

Earlier, he could have killed her. Had Feng Qingyin not decided that she was Feng Jiu’er? Well then — whether or not she actually was, killing her would certainly please Feng Qingyin.

If he killed her, would that count as settling the debt of gratitude he owed Feng Qingyin?

If the debt was settled, he could leave the imperial city. He would be free.

This imperial city — perhaps he would never return to it in his lifetime.

And yet, Feng Jiu’er had shown him not the slightest wariness. She was even now diligently working to treat his leg.

Jian Yi would not claim to be a good person, but he was not so utterly without conscience as to kill someone entirely without cause.

If Feng Jiu’er had sensed his killing intent earlier and acted first against him, perhaps he really would have killed her.

But she had not.

After all — should he kill her, and buy his own freedom?

Feng Jiu’er could not quite work out what was wrong with the name Jian Yi, but somehow, that tangled, conflicted air that had settled over him now felt strangely familiar.

She retrieved the needles and rolled his trouser leg back down. “How does it feel now?”

Only then did Jian Yi turn his attention back to his own leg. It had been fine all through the day, but had started to ache again as evening came on. Now, oddly enough, there was almost no pain left.

He had been so lost in his own thoughts just now that he had not even noticed his leg had stopped hurting.

“You…” He looked at Feng Jiu’er, who was putting the needles away. He hesitated briefly, then said: “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. You’re still a member of Tianji Hall for now, so this visit counts as free of charge. Go and rest.”

Feng Jiu’er put away the silver needles and was just about to close the medicine case when a sudden flurry of urgent footsteps sounded outside.

Jian Yi’s index finger curled inward at once. Against anyone approaching rapidly, his instincts immediately set him on alert.

Outside, Xiao Yingtao’s voice came in a rush: “Young Master, are you there? The stone bridge at Flower Street collapsed. There’s a large number of injured outside — you need to come quickly.”

Feng Jiu’er’s expression changed at once. She grabbed the medicine case and was out the door immediately. Jian Yi only hesitated for a moment before he, too, stood and followed.

“How many people are hurt?” Feng Jiu’er asked urgently.

Xiao Yingtao shook her head. “There are more than ten so far, and several are critically injured. But word is there are dozens more — Qiao Mu and Zizhou have already taken more than ten physicians with them.”