When the list of those going to southern Jiangsu for plague relief reached West Street, everyone at Renxin Medical Hall was stunned.

Du Changqing rubbed his eyes several times, staring at Lu Tong: “I’m not seeing things, am I? Why is your name on this list?”

Lu Tong placed her medical box on the table cabinet, her tone as flat as if she were going out to buy a cup of sweet syrup.

“I’m going to southern Jiangsu for disaster relief. I’ll leave early tomorrow morning.”

“That’s not right, Little Lu,” Miao Liangfang leaned on his walking stick as he came around from the back shop. “You only joined the Imperial Medical Academy at the beginning of this year, haven’t even passed your first clerk assessment, and have no prior plague relief experience. How could the Imperial Medical Academy select you to go to southern Jiangsu?”

Du Changqing’s eyes flashed: “Is it Pei Yunying?”

“You went to the Marshal’s Manor yesterday for a house call, and today you come back saying you’re going to southern Jiangsu tomorrow.” He cursed angrily: “Did that black-hearted bastard pull some strings to force you into this? That damned turtle!”

“I’m going for plague relief, not to die,” Lu Tong said helplessly. “Besides, this is the Imperial Medical Academy’s arrangement.”

Miao Liangfang was puzzled: “The Imperial Medical Academy shouldn’t send a newly appointed medical official like you… Could there be a mistake?”

Lu Tong paused for a moment, then shook her head: “I’m from southern Jiangsu. Perhaps accompanying them could be helpful.”

Hearing this, Du Changqing rolled his eyes dramatically: “I’m from the capital too—who have I been helpful to?” He continued, “No way. My father once told me that during great plagues, countless people die—it’s almost like sending you to your death. I think we should send gifts to the Imperial Medical Academy. How much silver would they want to remove your name?”

“Shopkeeper Du, I am a medical official.”

“So what if you’re a medical official? Aren’t medical officials human? Should medical officials rush headfirst into death?” Du Changqing was impatient. “Don’t give me any nonsense about physicians having benevolent hearts. I don’t have that kind of benevolence—I’m just a common man, and you shouldn’t try to be a saint either. Hurry up, let’s pool some silver and go to the Imperial Medical Academy.”

Lu Tong remained motionless.

Miao Liangfang sighed.

A’Cheng cowered in the corner, not daring to breathe heavily, while Yin Zheng stood by the felt curtain with slightly reddened eyes.

Du Changqing tugged at her twice but couldn’t budge Lu Tong, growing angry: “Can’t order you around anymore?” He flared up again, “When you first came to Renxin Medical Hall last year and made deals with me on conditions, why weren’t you so bleeding-heart then? What saint are you pretending to be!”

Lu Tong broke free from his grip and said, “I want to go to southern Jiangsu.”

The autumn wind was crisp and clear. Outside the door, beneath the plum tree, fallen leaves rustled, gathering together then scattering again.

The back shop fell silent.

After a while, Du Changqing hung his head, sat down at his desk without a word, and asked irritably, “You absolutely must go?”

“Yes.”

He said nothing more.

Neither did anyone else.

In Renxin Medical Hall, no one had ever been able to stop Lu Tong from doing what she wanted. Like the spring examinations, like going to the Imperial Medical Academy—once she made up her mind, she would never change it for anyone.

And she never stayed for anyone either.

After a while, Miao Liangfang spoke up: “I’ll write you some prescriptions.”

As if finally having found a backbone, Miao Liangfang rambled on: “I’ve never been to southern Jiangsu, but I’ve seen people with plague before. The Miao family village has various prescriptions for preventing plague—I don’t know if you’ll find them useful. I’ll write them all down for you. What if they come in handy?”

“A physician is a person of benevolence,” he said, looking at Lu Tong and sighing. “If I were you, I would also go to southern Jiangsu.”

Du Changqing was annoyed to the point of toothache.

He said, “Stop being such a busybody! I’m going to the medical market to ask what needs to be brought to plague areas!” He turned and left.

Actually, everyone knew in their hearts that the Imperial Medical Academy’s list had already been approved, written in black and white—how could sending some silver change that? It was just that this news came too suddenly, and the schedule was too rushed for everyone to accept at once.

Time was of the essence. A’Cheng and Du Changqing immediately rushed to the medical market, while Miao Liangfang bent over his desk, leaning close to begin writing down medical prescriptions from memory for Lu Tong.

Lu Tong lifted the felt curtain and returned to the courtyard to pack her belongings. Yin Zheng followed her.

Yin Zheng stood in the doorway, watching Lu Tong fold her clothes one by one, and suddenly spoke: “Miss, let me go with you.”

Lu Tong turned around.

Yin Zheng stepped into the room, her voice choking: “I’m also from southern Jiangsu. I can help you…”

She didn’t know what had happened, but before this—whether going to the Imperial Medical Academy or the Qi family—it had always been within the capital.

Southern Jiangsu was different.

Thousands of miles away, with plague raging—she had never been separated from Lu Tong for such a long time, which filled her with a sense of panic, fearing that Lu Tong might never return.

Lu Tong looked at her and gently shook her head.

“The Imperial Medical Academy’s medical official convoy won’t let you join.”

“I can secretly follow along! Follow you from a distance.”

“It’s too dangerous. I’d have to worry about taking care of you.”

“Miss…”

Lu Tong walked in front of her.

“Why return to southern Jiangsu?” she said. “Since you’ve already left, don’t look back.”

Yin Zheng froze, looking up at the person before her.

Lu Tong stood in front of her, her dark eyes clear and bright. Those eyes were always calm and indifferent, but when she gazed at someone, they could inexplicably put one at ease, as if even the greatest troubles were insignificant in her presence.

Just like their first meeting.

After a while, Yin Zheng asked: “Miss, do you still remember when we first met?”

Without waiting for Lu Tong’s answer, she began speaking softly herself: “I still remember.”

She was severely ill, her whole body aching unbearably. The brothel madam had someone roll her up in a mat and throw her away at the mass grave on Luomei Peak.

She cried and grabbed at the madam’s skirt: “Godmother, godmother, don’t abandon me. Just some medicine—if I take some medicine, I’ll get better—”

The madam kicked her away.

“Get better my ass!” The madam pointed at her nose and scolded: “Don’t medicine cost money? Open your eyes and look clearly—this is a brothel, not a charity hall! I’ve fed you this long, and you get sick this early. Money-losing goods!”

After saying this, as if disgusted by something filthy, she covered her mouth and nose and urged the servants: “What are you standing around for? Hurry up and carry her away!”

So she was carried up the mountain.

Yin Zheng remembered very clearly—it was a cold, rainy night. The mountain path was muddy, and the wind sounded desolate.

She lay alone in the mass grave, the continuous rain hitting her face. She didn’t even have the strength to move, her heart and eyes filled with despair.

Her life had been wretched, living like tumbleweed, and she would die just as miserably. A humble person’s life couldn’t even beg for half a thread of dignity.

The night sky over the mountains seemed like a boundless gaping maw, greedily devouring what little life remained in the human world. In that gray coldness, she saw a light.

A faint glimmer hurrying through the rainy night.

She suspected this was a hallucination before death, yet felt that hallucination was very real. A person carrying a basket had come to the mass grave, walking around and stopping here and there, picking up things.

That light came before her, and a hand pressed against her cheek.

That hand was cold and soft, silently touching toward her neck with gentle movements, then brushed away the disheveled long hair covering her eyes.

Yin Zheng saw a face.

The face of a young woman, pale and beautiful. Under her bamboo hat, a pair of eyes were as dark as the night over Luomei Peak, shining brightly in the rainy night, frowning as she looked at her.

Yin Zheng opened her mouth, but weakness prevented her from saying even one word.

“Don’t speak.”

The young woman seemed to understand something. She put down her basket, then stood up to grab Yin Zheng’s hand and lifted her onto her back.

“I’ll save you,” she said.

I’ll save you.

Three words, like a wind lantern in a rainy night, a lifeline she grasped tightly and dared not let go.

Crickets chirped softly in the flower bushes beneath the window. Yin Zheng was lost in thought for a moment, then came back to herself, tears hidden in her eyes, smiling: “I thought I was doomed then, never expecting to meet you, Miss.”

She loved poetry and painting, had fallen into the world’s dirty and filthy places, yet after seeing all the vulgar and ugly faces, she met the most sincere and beautiful person in the world.

It was the only stroke of luck in her unfortunate life, perhaps Heaven’s single act of mercy toward her.

Lu Tong said: “It’s all in the past.”

Yin Zheng fell silent.

It was all in the past—southern Jiangsu was the past, bad memories were also the past. She had lived peacefully on West Street for too long; looking back now, she realized the capital was actually so far from southern Jiangsu.

“Stay on West Street,” Lu Tong said. “It’s good here.”

She was a rootless flower, drifting at will, having finally found a peaceful corner here—she couldn’t bear to let go again.

“You will come back, won’t you?” Yin Zheng asked.

Lu Tong looked out the window at the elegant plum tree that had not yet bloomed. She said: “After I leave, please take good care of this plum tree for me.”

Her gaze swept over the moist soil beneath the plum tree, but she didn’t answer Yin Zheng’s question.

Yin Zheng was silent for a moment.

“Miss, I actually had a younger sister.”

She said: “My father sold my sister and me to the brothel to pay gambling debts. When my sister and I tried to escape and were discovered, she didn’t survive—she was beaten to death. I was the one who remained.”

“When I see you, I always think of her. It was I who failed to protect her.”

“I know you’re eager for revenge, Miss. For you, there’s nothing more important in this world than revenge. But if I were your older sister and saw you like this, I would only feel heartbroken.”

Yin Zheng sighed: “You should think more about yourself.”

Lu Tong said: “I know.”

“And with Young Master Pei—if you like him, be with him. If you don’t like him, forget it. Don’t make things difficult for yourself.”

Lu Tong hummed in acknowledgment.

“Miss,” Yin Zheng looked at her one last time, “I’ll wait for you here. You must come back.”

With parting intentions and thousands of words to say, Lu Tong was silent for a while, then nodded: “All right.”

…

This day passed very hastily.

Because the news came suddenly, everyone’s preparations were also rushed. Lu Tong returned to the Imperial Medical Academy that evening and set out with the Academy’s convoy early the next morning.

After one night passed, when Lu Tong got up the next morning, Lin Danqing was already sitting at the door drinking porridge.

“Vegetable porridge from the Imperial Medical Academy—who knows when I’ll drink it again.” She held up her hand, handing Lu Tong a bowl. “Try some.”

Lu Tong took it.

Lin Danqing was also going to southern Jiangsu.

When Lu Tong heard Lin Danqing’s name on the medical officials’ list, she was also surprised, wondering how she had convinced her father.

“What’s so hard to convince about that?” Lin Danqing said carelessly. “I volunteered myself, telling him this trip to southern Jiangsu was a good opportunity to make achievements. To rely on clerk assessments to advance level by level—when would I ever become an Imperial Physician, let alone Academy Director? Going to southern Jiangsu for plague relief is different. After the plague relief ends and we return to the imperial city, the reward can save three levels of clerk assessments.”

“Wealth comes from taking risks—and it’s not even him taking the risk. After he pretended to worry for a while, he agreed quite readily!”

Lu Tong asked: “What about your aunt?”

“The ‘Arrow-Eye’ poison has been cured. My aunt no longer needs care. Besides, since my medical skills are excellent, she also wants me to go out and prove myself.”

She made it sound easy, but Lu Tong knew the process must not have been simple. However, since Lin Danqing didn’t want to say more, she didn’t ask further.

After the two finished their porridge, they got up to leave. Chang Jin was already waiting at the door.

On this trip to southern Jiangsu, most were veteran medical officials with plague relief experience. Among the newly appointed medical officials, only Lin Danqing and Lu Tong were going. Besides them, Ji Xun was also included.

“I heard he also voluntarily requested to be added to the plague relief list. The Imperial Medical Academy takes this very seriously,” Lin Danqing whispered to her. “And indeed, his medical skills are exceptional—he might have better ideas than those veteran medical officials. With him accompanying us this time, the plague relief will be much more secure.”

Lu Tong nodded.

Chang Jin finished checking the people on the list and led the medical officials to the convoy. There were also some people from the Imperial Pharmacy in the convoy—Lu Tong saw Acorus was among them. Seeing Lu Tong, Acorus even greeted her.

On the clear autumn morning, dew had not yet evaporated. On both sides of the city gate, withered grass stretched in all directions. A line of geese flew south, and in the distant sound of their calls, the convoy’s wheels rolled past with a “rumbling” sound.

“Wait—”

Suddenly a familiar voice called out. Lu Tong’s heart stirred as she sat in the carriage, and she lifted the curtain.

Someone was running after the carriage.

It was Yin Zheng, A’Cheng, and Du Changqing, with Miao Liangfang trailing behind, moving swiftly despite his walking stick.

The carriage stopped. Chang Jin spoke a few words with the escort riders, then motioned for Lu Tong to get down. Lu Tong stepped down from the carriage, and the group stood before her, panting.

“Almost didn’t make it,” Du Changqing shoved a huge bundle into Lu Tong’s hands. “Eat sparingly.”

The heavy bundle was full of food.

Miao Liangfang pulled a thick envelope from his chest: “Yesterday was so rushed, and you had to return to the Imperial Medical Academy. Last night I remembered a few more prescriptions and quickly wrote them down. Take them—they might be useful when you get to southern Jiangsu.”

His eyes had dark circles underneath, and he looked drowsy and exhausted, clearly having labored through the night without sleep.

Lu Tong took the prescriptions and asked: “The Imperial Medical Academy doesn’t allow family members to see people off. How did you get here?”

To avoid trouble, the convoy set out early in the morning, and family members weren’t allowed to visit. Yet these people had caught up.

Yin Zheng said: “We originally just planned to come to the city gate to try our luck—if we couldn’t speak, that would be fine. We happened to meet Young Master Pei passing by on official business. When we told him, he let us through.”

Pei Yunying?

Lu Tong was startled.

A’Cheng smiled and pointed into the distance: “He hasn’t left yet—there he is.”

Lu Tong looked in the direction he pointed.

In the deep autumn season, golden wind rustled gently. On the mottled brown brick wall above, a crimson figure stood high on the city tower, bright and dazzling in the autumn morning sunlight.

The sunlight illuminated the young man’s handsome, sharp features. He stood high above while she was below. Where their gazes met, like smoky light and sun shadows, they floated silently.

He didn’t speak, just quietly and calmly watched her off like this.

Chang Jin’s urging came from behind. Lu Tong withdrew her gaze, clutched the bundle and letter, said brief farewells to the group, and hurried back to the carriage.

After the carriage had traveled some distance, Lu Tong thought for a moment, lifted the curtain, and looked back.

The high tower was now distant. Under the sun-lit city wall and golden sunlight, that crimson figure was gone.

He had already left.

…

Below the city tower, the wind was clear and the wilderness vast.

Xiao Zhufeng asked the person beside him: “What’s the point of specifically letting them make an extra trip to see her off?”

Going to West Street early in the morning to bring people over just for a send-off was truly speechless.

“Bonds,” Pei Yunying said.

“Bonds,” he replied. “When people have bonds, they want to live.”

“Then why didn’t you go say goodbye? Aren’t you qualified to be one of her bonds?”

Pei Yunying smiled slightly but didn’t respond to him, simply walking forward.

After standing guard all night, he planned to return home to change clothes. Just as he reached his door, he saw Pei Yunshu coming out from the neighboring gate.

Seeing him, Pei Yunshu’s face lit up with joy.

“Yunying, you’re back just in time. I just heard someone say that Doctor Lu has gone to southern Jiangsu for plague relief. Is this true? How come there was no news beforehand? Doesn’t plague relief usually involve veteran medical officials? For a young woman like her, having just joined the Imperial Medical Academy less than a year ago, wouldn’t going to southern Jiangsu be very dangerous?”

Pei Yunying entered the house with Pei Yunshu following behind him: “Are you listening to me?”

Pei Yunying removed his saber, loosened his collar, took a deep breath, and said to her: “Sister, Lu Tong chose to go herself.”

“But…”

“Neither you nor I can choose for her.”

This time he was firm, and Pei Yunshu was taken aback.

“I’m just worried…” Seeing the young man’s expression, she fell silent again.

The room was quiet for a moment.

A gust of wind blew, and suddenly delicate chiming sounds came from the courtyard, light and crisp.

Pei Yunshu looked puzzled and followed the sound, becoming stunned.

Pei Yunying’s residence courtyard had always been empty and bare, so much so that Duan Xiaoyan often joked it was a good place for sword and blade practice.

But now in the flower garden, large patches of hibiscus had somehow been planted.

The hibiscus was already blooming—white as frost, red as sunset clouds, planted throughout the garden in rich autumn colors.

Among the sparse branches and dense leaves, fine red silk was interwoven, strung with golden bells that were tied to the flower tips. When the wind moved them, the golden bells rang crisply.

Pei Yunshu was stunned: “Golden bells on flowers?”

According to books, there was once royalty who “loved music and was refined and elegant, unmatched among the princes. In spring, in the rear garden, they would thread red silk into ropes, densely string golden bells, and tie them to flower tips. Whenever birds and magpies came to perch, they would have garden servants pull the bell cords to startle them away. This was done out of love for the flowers. All palaces imitated this.”

Pei Yunying had never liked flowers and plants. His residence was austere and simple. Pei Yunshu didn’t know when he had begun imitating the ancients in making “flower-protecting bells.”

Clearly, during the last Qixi Festival, this place had still been completely barren.

But making “flower-protecting bells” was for those who “cherished flowers.”

When had he begun to pity flowers and plants?

“Why do you suddenly like hibiscus?” she asked, confused.

“Isn’t it good?”

He recited softly: “There is a woman riding in the same carriage, her face like hibiscus flowers. She will soar and fly, adorned with jade ornaments. That beautiful Lady Meng, truly beautiful and elegant…

There is a woman traveling together, her face like hibiscus blossoms. She will soar and fly, her jade ornaments chiming. That beautiful Lady Meng, her virtuous voice unforgettable.”

His tone was slow and gentle, like a young man returning from spring excursions by the lake, moved by emotion—every word touching.

Pei Yunshu was bewildered for a moment, looking at the harmonious flowers and plants before her, and instinctively said: “But hibiscus are wild flowers—why would they need flower-protecting bells? They bloom for just one morning and evening, enjoying only one day of brilliance. Why not plant peonies or monthly roses? Hibiscus won’t bloom constantly for you.”

Pei Yunying looked down and smiled.

“Of course they must be protected.”

He looked at the hibiscus before him: “Wind will blow her, rain will beat her, summer days are harsh, snowy days are cold and freezing. Birds will peck and eat her, and there are flower-pickers outside the garden.”

“I appreciate the flower I love, so naturally I must protect her. I’m willing to be a flower-protector for life. It doesn’t matter whether she blooms for me—as long as the flower blooms well, what harm is there in being a flower-protector for life?”

His voice was calm, yet like heavy drums and dull hammers, greatly shocking Pei Yunshu. She suddenly understood something and looked toward Pei Yunying.

In the brilliant flower light, the gorgeous autumn sunlight illuminated the young man’s handsome eyebrows. Those rich colors fell into his eyes as Pei Yunying looked on, speaking calmly.

“I want to watch over her.”

“But she refuses my protection.”

He said: “She doesn’t need my protection.”