The feeling of a heartbeat, the uncontrollable acceleration of the heart’s pulsing.

An Jiu often felt this when she coexisted with Mei Jiu. When Mei Jiu was afraid or nervous, her heart seemed to leap into her throat.

An Jiu had experienced terror before – when she witnessed her mother’s gruesome death, when she accidentally killed her father, and when she repeatedly traded others’ blood for her own life during training in the organization.

This nervousness forced her to recall those unbearable memories, so she resisted it.

Yet the turmoil in her heart when she kissed Chu Dingjiang felt like nervousness and fear, but somehow different…

“Ajiu,” Chu Dingjiang called softly.

Sensing Chu Dingjiang’s approach, An Jiu shrank back slightly, avoiding his gaze. “Let’s go back.”

Even with his wisdom, Chu Dingjiang couldn’t guess the reason for An Jiu’s sudden withdrawal. He assumed she was rejecting him.

“Let’s go,” Chu Dingjiang said, following behind An Jiu without using his qinggong.

He thought he would feel emotional, having never faced such rejection before. Surprisingly, he felt unexpectedly calm.

Chu Dingjiang had never focused on romantic matters. Long ago, he had been with women – more than one – but they were like passing clouds, their faces long forgotten. Only two remained memorable: Zhao Zhangji and Song Huaijin.

These two women were starkly different. Zhao Zhangji was the king of Zhao’s consort, her beauty alone enough to entice men across the land. Chu Dingjiang had seen her once as a child, sitting in an ornate carriage surrounded by gauze curtains. When the wind blew, her world-class beauty was etched into his mind. A few years later, when Zhao Gong died, Zhao Zhangji committed suicide, supposedly out of love. Later, as Chu Dingjiang grew wiser, he realized her suicide wasn’t for love but part of a scheme. He admired her more for it – how rare to find a woman with both beauty and brains! If he had ever truly admired a woman, it was only Zhao Zhangji. As for Song Huaijin, he felt no love or even fondness for her. He remembered her solely because she had, through her merit, become a figure of immense power in the Qin state, her talent for governance surpassing countless men – truly a rarity in the world.

His feelings for An Jiu were different from his admiration for Zhao Zhangji.

Zhao Zhangji was a dream. Even though he always knew she was the king’s woman, Chu Dingjiang never felt jealous. But An Jiu was real and tangible – her fierce looks, her smiles, the warmth of her hand. If one day…

Chu Dingjiang suddenly recalled Gu Jinghong’s recent words about sending An Jiu to the emperor as a vessel. His heart skipped a beat. Was he destined to only yearn for women belonging to rulers?

“Ajiu,” Chu Dingjiang stepped forward, intending to take her hand.

Lost in thought, An Jiu immediately turned and grasped his hand upon hearing his voice. Feeling the familiar warmth, her heart calmed a little.

She paused and said to him, “It’s cold.”

Chu Dingjiang smiled and wrapped his cloak around her, saying resignedly, “You do treat me like a mother.”

An Jiu remained silent.

They walked slowly as if taking an after-dinner stroll.

“Ajiu, have you ever been in love with a man?” Chu Dingjiang asked, not wanting to know but needing to confirm if she was like normal people in this aspect.

“In love?” An Jiu pondered for a long time. As they neared the relay station, she finally said, “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

Chu Dingjiang’s breath caught. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to continue, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“The commander in my organization,” An Jiu said. “He gave me missions. Every time I completed one, he would come to pick me up. He would always lower the car window halfway and smoke while looking outside. When he saw me, he’d flick away his cigarette and give me a thumbs-up with a smile. Those were my happiest moments.”

Some terms were unfamiliar, but Chu Dingjiang understood the gist. “This man was using you.”

“I know, but in those moments, I felt like I had a home, that someone was waiting for me,” An Jiu replied.

Chu Dingjiang held her tighter.

Back at the relay station, Chu Dingjiang went to find Mosi Gui alone.

As expected, he received another “warm” welcome, with even more poison traps than before and the two tiger cubs pouncing more vigorously.

Mosi Gui squatted in the corner, stirring a medicine pot with a bamboo stick. He said coldly, “What are you here for this time?”

“Has An Jiu’s mind fully recovered?” Chu Dingjiang asked.

“Guess whether I’ll tell you or not,” Mosi Gui emerged from the shadows, looking at him with resentful eyes.

“You will,” Chu Dingjiang said calmly. “You’ve only just begun your medical journey. It would be a shame if you met an untimely end. Don’t you agree?”

“Chu Dingjiang!” Mosi Gui slammed the medicine pot on the table. “Don’t think I’m afraid of you. I won’t fall for this! If you’ve got the guts, kill me!”

“I’ve already experienced Dr. Mo’s fortitude,” Chu Dingjiang said impassively. He took out a paper package from his pocket and placed it on the table. “I’ve collected quite a few things like this. I thought you might be interested.”

“Don’t dream…”

Mosi Gui’s harsh words trailed off as he sniffed lightly. He quietly approached and opened the package. “Seven-leaf grass!”

This grass grew on seaside cliffs, supposedly nourished by dragon saliva and absorbing the essence of the sun and moon. It was said to prolong life, and with the right prescription, could even revive the dead.

Mosi Gui immediately wrapped it up and tucked it into his robe. “Do you have any other herbs?”

“Yes, I used quite a few when breaking through to the Huajing realm. I don’t have many left now, just a few dozen types,” Chu Dingjiang replied.

Mosi Gui instantly dropped his resentful expression and began seriously discussing An Jiu’s condition. “After my acupuncture treatment, An Jiu can now control her emotions. For a full recovery, she’ll need a few more sessions. But from what she’s told me, I believe her mental illness is showing signs of improvement.”

An Jiu hadn’t shown any signs of madness recently. The reason Chu Dingjiang suspected something was still off was because the An Jiu he knew was extremely guarded and wouldn’t easily allow people close to her. It didn’t make sense for such a person to suddenly become a naive girl because of a stranger like Zhu Pianpian.

“What did you mean when you said her spiritual power was damaging her body?” Chu Dingjiang asked.

Mosi Gui leaned forward and sniffed. “I’ll trade that answer for some blood lingzhi. How about it?”

Chu Dingjiang tossed him a small cloth bag.

“Tsk, tsk. It’s such a waste for something this good to be in your hands, carelessly wrapped in this shabby cloth,” Mosi Gui said, taking out a black jar from his medicine box and placing the dark red blood lingzhi inside. “What a pity there’s so little left.”

Chu Dingjiang didn’t rush him, waiting patiently.

“An Jiu’s body shows varying degrees of damage throughout. I couldn’t determine the cause, but she mentioned Wei Yuzhi’s spiritual power could control external objects to kill. That’s why I guessed it was spiritual power damaging her body, though I still need to confirm this.” Mosi Gui’s eyes darted over Chu Dingjiang. “Anything else you need to ask?”