As the pale golden dawn light shone on the well, a man in black attire silently dropped into the courtyard like a black cat. He slipped into the main room, standing respectfully in a corner invisible from outside the window.
“My lord, Miss Meilin didn’t go into the mountains. She headed towards Anyang City,” reported the man, his brow sharp as if carved by a knife, but his eyes calm as still water.
Murong Jinghe’s expression changed abruptly. He tried to prop himself up, trembling, but fell back, unable to muster the strength.
“Stay there!” he barked, stopping the man from coming to help. He took two deep breaths, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, the intense fury in his eyes nearly piercing through it.
She had abandoned him… She had left him behind.
After a while, seeing that he had closed his eyes and seemed to have calmed down, the man continued, “News from the capital: The Crown Prince has been found colluding with foreign powers and plotting treason. He’s been placed under house arrest.”
“Western Yan and Southern Yue have allied and formally declared war on our country. They’ve already captured five cities along the southwestern border, including Minshou. The court is still debating who should lead the army into battle.”
A mocking smile played on Murong Jinghe’s lips. He opened his eyes, about to say something when he caught sight of the hunter approaching on the distant path. He paused, then decisively ordered, “Return to Jingbei.”
It took Meilin three days to finally locate the scabby-headed doctor. The man, true to his nickname, was dozing in a rocking chair in his courtyard, sunbathing. He appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, with a genuinely scabby head.
Seeing the gray-white scabs covering his bald scalp, some oozing yellow pus, Meilin hesitated. If this man could cure severed meridians, why couldn’t he heal his scalp condition? Nevertheless, she knocked and entered.
The doctor squinted at her, then, as if seeing something uninteresting, lazily closed his eyes again.
Meilin didn’t speak. She glanced around the courtyard, then grabbed a small stool and sat down nearby.
After a while, the doctor drawled, “Go away. I don’t save those who are about to die.”
Meilin, who had been bending to pick up a small stick near her feet, trembled at his words. The stick fell, and she had to pick it up again.
Hearing no response or footsteps leaving, the doctor finally opened his eyes in irritation and glared at the silent woman.
Meilin smiled and tried to speak, but stopped, embarrassed by her now hoarse voice. Instead, she used the stick to write on the ground:
Not dying, but severed meridians. Please help, sir.
The doctor’s eyes flickered. He suddenly grabbed her wrist to feel her pulse. Meilin shook her head, managing to croak out that it wasn’t for her, but he ignored her. After a moment, he released her hand and sniffed the air, then sneered, “So you’ve been eating datura and ginseng root like they’re food.”
Meilin’s chest constricted in pain. She withdrew her hand, not wanting to answer, but needing his help, she thought for a moment. She erased the words on the ground with her foot and wrote: Pain.
The doctor raised an eyebrow and lazily leaned back, reaching behind the chair for a rustic pipe commonly used by local farmers. He didn’t light it, just put it in his mouth and puffed a couple of times.
“Using those for pain relief… Heh, the person who gave you this prescription must have a grudge against you. However, combining these two ingredients does show some real skill.”
Meilin’s already pale lips turned even whiter. She recalled what the old doctor in Anyang had told her:
“Long-term use of ginseng root and datura can cause muteness. Be cautious, miss.”
She had considered that he might not have known the severe consequences, but even entertaining that thought left her feeling desolate. Now, hearing the scabby doctor’s words, she realized that combining these two drugs wasn’t something an ordinary person would stumble upon by accident.
How much did he hate her to go to such lengths to scheme against her? She had asked herself this question throughout her journey back, but found no answer, only self-mockery. After just over ten days of dependency, she had wanted to treat it as a lifetime commitment. She deserved to be fooled. Most laughably, even now, she still hoped to see him smile confidently one day.
If someone wants to be foolish to death, no one can stop them. At that moment, she suddenly agreed with his words. Then she smiled bitterly, realizing she even remembered his casual remarks.
Please help, sir. She wrote each character firmly on the ground, without any hesitation.
The scabby doctor, though appearing nonchalant, had been observing her changing expressions. Seeing this, he bit on his pipe and said, “Since you’ve come to me, you should know my rules.”
Rules? What rules? Meilin thought to herself. From what she had learned during her search, this man was eager to practice medicine. Whether human or animal, he would treat anyone who came to him. For those who couldn’t afford payment, even a meal of wild vegetables and coarse rice would do. It was precisely because of this lack of principles, coupled with his unsightly appearance, that despite his excellent medical skills, his reputation hadn’t spread. Only people from a few nearby villages knew of this doctor who treated both humans and animals. After all, families with means wouldn’t want someone who treated animals to treat them.
Whatever your requirements, please state them, sir. Meilin wrote, thinking to herself that given his noble status and cunning, what couldn’t he provide or accomplish?
The scabby doctor reached to stroke his beard, only to realize he had recently singed it while tending the fire. His movement halted, then he continued to rub the stubble on his chin.
“I don’t have many faults, but I can’t stand waste,” he said slowly, squinting at the bright sunlight. “I see you don’t have many days left to live. Why not help me nourish my jade?”
Nourish jade? Meilin was puzzled. She wasn’t unconcerned about not having long to live, but she didn’t think this was something that could be decided in a few words, so she chose not to dwell on it for now.
“It means using your vital energy to nourish my meridian jade,” the doctor patiently explained. His hand seemed unable to stay still, moving from his chin to his head, scratching until skin flakes flew.
Meilin frowned slightly, wondering if he meant to exchange her life. Before she could ask, the doctor continued, “I have no use for your life. You’ll live as long as you’re meant to.” Despite his rustic appearance, his gaze was particularly sharp, able to guess eight or nine out of ten thoughts in others’ minds.
Hearing this, Meilin smiled faintly and nodded without hesitation. Even if he hadn’t made this request, after curing Murong Jinghe, she would have found a way to stay by his side, seeking a chance at survival.
As for the rest… As for Murong Jinghe, they would go their separate ways.
Meilin had always known that effort doesn’t guarantee reward, and that ingratitude is common in this world. Yet when she found herself surrounded outside Anyang City, her heart still twisted in pain.
The wanted poster with her portrait clearly stated her identity as a spy from the dark factory and listed evidence of her attempt to harm the Prince of Jingbei…
At that moment, she lowered her hands in despair, offering no resistance as her hands were bound behind her, and the dagger that had never truly belonged to her was taken away. She heard the scabby doctor’s wailing and felt a twinge of guilt in her cold heart. It was one thing to be foolish enough to get herself killed, but she shouldn’t have dragged others into it.
The prison cart rumbled along the official road for five days, seeming to never reach its destination.
Meilin huddled in a corner of the cart, shivering all over. Without ginseng root and datura to suppress it, the pain of withdrawal left her unable to lift her head.
The scabby doctor sat in another corner. After two days of constant complaining, he had reverted to his usual laziness. Since he had no weapons and other items hadn’t been confiscated, he could still puff on his pipe and enjoy the scenery, watching passersby like they were monkeys, just as the passersby watched them.
“How are you?” he finally asked, unable to ignore the woman who had been curled up silently since their capture.
Meilin seemed not to hear him. After a long while, just when he thought she had fainted from pain again, she slowly shook her head. The movement was so slight that it would have been imperceptible if he hadn’t been watching her closely.
The scabby doctor sighed, took the pipe from his mouth, and gently tapped her shoulder with the bowl. Unsurprisingly, she flinched. “Lift your head. I’m not used to talking to a crow-black forehead.”
After another long wait, Meilin slowly raised her head, revealing a face pale and wet with sweat. She looked like a ghost, her former beauty gone.
The scabby doctor clicked his tongue twice, ultimately unable to say anything sarcastic. Instead, he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a palm-sized earthen bottle.
“You agreed to help me nourish my jade. In the end, I couldn’t treat your illness, had no chance to nourish the jade, and even got myself arrested. What kind of deal is this?” As he spoke, he uncorked the bottle and shook it, eventually producing a small yellow pill. “This is what I use to drug scorpions. It’s very poisonous, but it should help with the pain… You, well, you won’t live much longer anyway, so you might as well suffer less.”
Meilin’s outstretched hand, though shaking uncontrollably from pain, showed no hesitation. She had always believed that as long as one was alive, even some suffering was worthwhile. Only now, truly in pain, did she realize that when there’s no light ahead, death can be much easier and more pleasant.
The guards paid no attention to their small movements. They sat straight-backed on their horses, rarely speaking, their bearing unlike that of ordinary soldiers.
After taking the scorpion medicine, Meilin’s pain indeed lessened considerably, the effect even better than the ginseng and datura decoction. She slowly sighed in relief, finally having the strength to wipe the sweat from her brow. Looking at the sparse, yellowed trees along the road, she thought that even if she had known the decoction would make her mute, she would still have drunk it when the pain became unbearable, just as she had now.
That man… that man understood the human heart too well. He could lay traps in plain sight, confident she would fall into them.
Meilin took a deep breath, clutching her clothes at her chest, her unfocused eyes filled with desolation.
Ten days later, the prison cart arrived at a place Meilin never expected.
Jingbei, the place she had longed for countless times.
Jingbei was the northernmost and most desolate major city in Da Yan. By the time they arrived, it had already snowed several times. A thin layer of snow covered the black earth-packed streets, trampled into muddy slush.
The scabby doctor shivered, and so did Meilin. But while one shivered from cold, the other shivered from withdrawal. The guards, though not dressed much warmer than them, remained as steady as mountains, their postures straight and unwavering.
“If I’d known… achoo!… If I’d known we were going on a long journey, I… achoo!… I should have worn more clothes…” The doctor curled into as small a ball as possible, lamenting and sneezing continuously. He wondered how he had ended up in this godforsaken place when he had been sunbathing so comfortably at home.
I haven’t made winter clothes yet… Meilin glanced at him guiltily, realizing she had no extra clothes to lend him. Suddenly, this thought crossed her mind, and her heart, which she thought had gone numb, twisted again.
After passing through countless streets and enduring numerous complex gazes, they finally left the cage they had lived in for over ten days and were locked in a dark, cold prison cell. Though they were supposedly held separately, only a wall divided them. However, Meilin could no longer access the pain-relieving poison.
As darkness and pain descended together, she felt as if she had returned to the seemingly hopeless dark factory. The place she had sworn never to return to.
Murong Jinghe’s return to Jingbei was like an eagle returning to the sky. Though this eagle’s legs were crippled, it didn’t hinder his flight.
Five years ago, he had been an eagle dominating the border. He had driven out invading enemies for Da Yan, guarding the border as tightly as an iron bucket, even advancing to the enemy’s capital, his might intimidating the neighboring countries. Back then, he was in his prime, open and upright. He never imagined that while he was enduring hardships and devoting himself to the country, he would be stabbed in the back by his closest kin.
Military intelligence was leaked, leading to the defeat at Wannan. Five thousand vanguard troops were completely wiped out, and he fell victim to an ambush, leaving him with severed meridians and unable to move. If not for Qing Yan’s efforts to cover for him, he would have perished in the damp southern lands, leaving only a set of white bones. After barely managing to reconnect his meridians and return to the capital, he was immediately stripped of his military authority and made a prince in this desolate northern region. Yet he was still suspected and not allowed to return to his fief, confined in a gilded cage, his will corroded by wine and women, scorned by the woman he had once fought alongside and sworn eternal love to.
Who could he trust… Who could he still trust?
The dark factory had been established by his uncle. After his uncle’s death, he took it over. No one knew who the previous owner was, and naturally, no one would know who the current owner was.
He no longer wanted to live in constant fear, so he set up a scheme. A scheme of retaliation, a scheme that could win back his freedom.
He had someone use a token to collude with Western Yan in the name of Murong Xuanlie, planted spies from the dark factory beside key court officials, including his high and mighty father, and even kept one by his side.
Who would send their people to spy on themselves?
The Emperor, indulgent and narrow-minded, was prone to suspicion. Years ago, he had secretly allowed Murong Xuanlie to frame him, despite his great achievements. Now, he wouldn’t spare Murong Xuanlie for planting spies around him.
Initially, he hadn’t planned to expose these spies so soon, but the incident at Zhongshan changed his plans. He had only intended to escape from Zhaojing and return to his fief before planning his next move. Unexpectedly, he encountered the ghoul. The message he sent through the ghoul was to instruct Qingyan to immediately expose the spies. This would not only put Murong Xuanlie in a dangerous position, unable to focus elsewhere but also stir up conflict between Da Yan and Xi Yan.
While the Emperor’s governance was a mess, he had his methods for interrogating those who threatened his position. The kun-marked girls would undoubtedly reveal everything they knew under torture. All they knew was about Murong Xuanlie’s usual incense, but for the paranoid Emperor, this would be enough. As for himself, he had already been cleared of suspicion due to Meilin’s presence and the Zhongshan incident. Moreover, with foreign enemies invading, the officials accustomed to peace would likely turn to him, now back in Jingbei, as their military leader rather than the female Muye Luomei.
Although the Zhongshan ordeal was a close call, the outcome was even better than expected, making it worthwhile.
It was worth it…
Murong Jinghe reclined on a luxurious couch, listening to his subordinate’s report on the court and border situations while gazing at the snow-covered courtyard through the flower-patterned window. The room was heated by floor warming, and he was covered with a white fox fur coat. Despite the warmth, he found himself missing the simple kang bed from the mountain village.
“Take the medicine to her,” he suddenly said.
His subordinate, who had been reporting on South Yue’s occupation of the north bank of the Black Horse River and Muye Luomei’s dispatch to the front lines, was momentarily stunned. Following Murong Jinghe’s gaze on the porcelain bottle on the nearby table, he quickly understood. Without further comment, he took the bottle and left.
Murong Jinghe’s gaze returned to the courtyard. He noticed a few light green buds wrapped in deep red calyxes on a dark brown plum branch outside the window, sparking his interest. In this cold place, plum blossoms bloomed earlier than elsewhere. When in full bloom, the fiery red branches pressing against the window would be quite charming. She had said she liked spring flowers, but he wondered if she would appreciate these winter plums.
Perhaps… when they bloom, he could have someone cut a few branches to send to her.
Two days later, an imperial edict arrived in Jingbei, ordering Murong Jinghe to lead troops into battle. Along with the edict came two imperial physicians specializing in the Emperor’s health, as well as Qingyan and the ghoul. Murong Jinghe refused the order, citing his health as the reason.
The imperial messenger, not daring to delay, hurriedly returned to report. Seven days later, the Emperor issued an edict to the realm, seeking renowned doctors for the Prince of Jingbei. Soon, a constant stream of people arrived at the Prince’s mansion, nearly wearing down the high threshold, but none could miraculously heal Murong Jinghe’s newly broken meridians.
“Useless, all of them!” Murong Jinghe’s trembling hand swept away the medicine bowl offered by a servant girl.
The black medicine spilled onto the carpet, soaking a large area. The frightened servant girl quickly knelt, shivering.
“Get out!” Murong Jinghe shouted without even looking at her.
If the doctor who had treated him five years ago hadn’t passed away, he wouldn’t have to endure these incompetent fools, drinking medicine after medicine with no improvement. These so-called master physicians were less useful than himself, a patient turned expert. At least he could manage to reconnect a few meridians through external force and medicine, while they were utterly useless.
As the servant girl left, she bumped into Qingyan, who was about to enter. After a hasty bow, she hurried away, covering her face.
Qingyan, seemingly oblivious to the encounter, quickly entered the room and stood respectfully by the couch, eyes lowered.
“My lord, the doctor who was captured along with Miss Meilin says he can treat severed meridians,” Qingyan reported. Being perceptive, he had quickly grasped the situation in Jingbei, including the matter of Meilin. He knew about Murong Jinghe’s condition and reasoned that if Meilin had truly meant harm, the situation wouldn’t have escalated to this point. Given the prince’s temperament, simply detaining someone who had once endangered him, or might do so, seemed unlikely. He concluded there must be details unknown to outsiders and had privately instructed the guards to take care of Meilin and her companion.
This was why the bald doctor’s claim of being able to treat the prince’s condition, overheard by the guards discussing the gathering of renowned doctors in Jingbei, reached Qingyan’s ears so quickly.
Qingyan hadn’t immediately informed Murong Jinghe. He first confirmed the facts with Meilin and verified that the bald doctor wasn’t lying before reporting.
Hearing his words, Murong Jinghe was momentarily stunned, his previous fierce expression fading to mere exhaustion.
“Bring him here,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning back on the soft pillow.
Qingyan understood that the prince had been pushed to the brink of explosion by incompetent doctors from across the country. Yet, he was still willing to see a prisoner without even inquiring about his background. Realizing this, Qingyan hurried to personally fetch the bald doctor.
As the footsteps faded, Murong Jinghe opened his eyes and looked towards the flower window again.
Despite the heavy snowfall and cold temperature, he never allowed anyone to close the windows during the day. Although he was no longer alone and had plenty to do, he still preferred to leave a window open, just as he had in that simple courtyard. However, whenever his gaze passed through that half-open window, the anticipation of someone’s return that he once felt was no longer there.
The plum blossoms had bloomed, a fiery red branch extending obliquely outside the window. Inside, a faint smoke curled upwards; outside, the sky was clear and white, the snow wrapping around the drunken red petals, exuding both allure and purity.
He wanted her to see this too… He lowered his gaze, knowing in his heart that it was Muye Luomei who liked plum blossoms. As for her, besides spring flowers, he knew nothing of what else she might like.
“Someone!” he suddenly called out, his expression calm and his voice low.
Immediately, someone flashed into the room – not a servant, but a black-clad guard.
“Cut two branches of the plum blossoms outside the window and send them to the dungeon,” he ordered. However, as the guard was about to leave, he called him back. “Never mind.”
Although the guard was confused, his face betrayed no inappropriate emotion as he silently returned to his hidden position.
Murong Jinghe felt a wave of irritation, suddenly wanting to have all the plum blossoms outside cut down. Fortunately, Qingyan returned just in time, followed by the bald doctor.
Upon seeing the doctor’s unsightly appearance, Murong Jinghe’s eyebrow twitched, almost suspecting he had been fooled.
The alternating cold and heat caused the doctor to sneeze several times as soon as he entered the room. His spittle flew everywhere, causing Murong Jinghe’s face to darken. Oblivious, the doctor asked Qingyan for a fur coat to wear and drank a bowl of hot tea before slowly beginning.
Seeing that this man was different from the other falsely renowned doctors – either incredibly bold or truly skilled – Murong Jinghe’s expression had returned to normal by the time the doctor’s fingers pressed against his pulse.
“I told you he was an expert,” the bald doctor muttered, stroking his chin after just a brief touch.
Murong Jinghe lowered his eyes, and Qingyan asked on his behalf.
“What do you mean by that, sir? In your opinion, how should my lord’s condition be treated?”
The bald doctor shook his head, and just as the other two felt their hearts sinking, he said, “The prince can reconnect severed meridians himself. If that’s not expertise, what is?”
Murong Jinghe’s eyes narrowed slightly. This man was the first to recognize that he had reconnected his meridians, and he had done so with just a touch, proving his capability. Although slightly excited by this, he could also sense that the doctor’s earlier words had a different meaning.
The bald doctor, seemingly oblivious to Murong Jinghe’s sharp gaze, turned to ask Qingyan for a bowl of hot noodle soup. After Qingyan reluctantly left to arrange it, he grinned and said, “I told that young lady that whoever suggested using ground vine and datura to relieve pain was an expert. Seems I was right.”
Murong Jinghe’s expression changed slightly, but he didn’t deny it.
The bald doctor didn’t comment further on this matter and continued, “I can treat the prince’s condition, but we must have that young lady willingly nurture a meridian jade. Without it, even if all the meridians are reconnected, you won’t be able to move freely. I won’t do a half-baked job and ruin my reputation.”
“What kind of person is needed to nurture a meridian jade? I have plenty here for you to choose from,” Murong Jinghe asked calmly, suppressing his inner turmoil.
The bald doctor shook his head vigorously. “That young lady has a Junzi parasite in her body. Where else can you find me another living one?”
“Junzi parasite?” Even with Murong Jinghe’s extensive knowledge, this was the first time he had heard of such a thing.
The bald doctor, impatient to explain further, simply said, “It’s something found only in the bodies of the living dead. Those affected either completely decompose or lie there as fresh, long-lasting specimens. The Junzi parasite can generate meridian energy, making it ideal for nurturing meridian jade. It not only reconnects meridians quickly but also strengthens and fortifies them. The Junzi parasite in that young lady’s body is thousands of years old, if not ten thousand. If the prince can find another living one, I can wait, as long as you don’t lock me up in that cold, dark, and smelly place again.”
Hearing this, Murong Jinghe immediately thought of the living corpses in the underground palace. Could Meilin have been unknowingly infected by the Junzi parasite then? If so, it would explain how her previously nullified powers had recovered on their own.
As he pondered this, Qingyan returned from outside, politely informing them that arrangements had been made and the meal would be served after the doctor finished examining the prince. His message was subtle but clear: if the bald doctor could cure Murong Jinghe, he could have whatever he wanted. But if not, he should return to where he came from.
The bald doctor smiled at him, then reached under his new fur coat, pulled out a pipe, and declined Qingyan’s offer to have someone bring tobacco and light it. Instead, he began to smoke it dry.
Murong Jinghe snapped out of his thoughts and, seeing the doctor’s calm demeanor, felt inexplicably irritated again.
“Qingyan, take good care of… What is your surname, doctor?” he began, realizing they didn’t even know the bald doctor’s name, and quickly apologized for the oversight.
The bald doctor waved his hand dismissively. “The villagers all call me Old Baldy. I forgot my name ages ago.”
Murong Jinghe hesitated, ultimately unable to bring himself to say “Doctor Baldy,” and simply said, “Qingyan, arrange accommodation for the doctor. Don’t neglect him.”
As Qingyan was about to lead the bald doctor out, Murong Jinghe suddenly asked, “Doctor, why were you with her? Why did she hide it from me if she was seeking medical help?” He wondered if her being with this doctor was just a coincidence, or perhaps for her reasons.
As if knowing what he was thinking, the bald doctor turned back with a grin, bluntly interrupting his various conjectures: “Why else would she look for me? Just to treat someone, of course. It’s not like she fell for old Baldy here.”
Murong Jinghe said nothing more. Seeing this, Qingyan, not daring to disturb him, quickly led the bald doctor away.
After settling everything and returning, Qingyan found Murong Jinghe sitting on the edge of the couch, his bare feet on the carpet, seemingly trying to stand on his own. Despite the cold weather, he was drenched in sweat.
“My lord?” Qingyan, knowing his temperament, didn’t try to stop him but moved closer in case he fell.
“Spread the news that we’ve found a skilled doctor,” Murong Jinghe said without looking at him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Find her a new place to stay. Have people serve her well. As long as she doesn’t try to escape, let her do as she pleases.”
“Yes, sir.” Qingyan responded, then hesitated before asking, “My lord, should we move Miss Meilin to the back courtyard?”
The prince’s mansion in Jingbei was just a combination of several crude large courtyards, far inferior in both size and splendor to those in the capital. Murong Jinghe resided in the central courtyard, with the side courtyards housing guests and higher-ranking servants, and the back courtyard reserved for the inner household. Qingyan’s question was a probe, aiming to understand the situation better before deciding how to proceed, to avoid any missteps.
Murong Jinghe abandoned his attempt to stand and steadied his breath, indicating he wanted to lie down. Qingyan quickly stepped forward to adjust the pillows, only stepping back when the prince was satisfied.
“Put her in the side courtyard,” he said with closed eyes. “The court will surely send Luomei here. Try not to let them run into each other.” Given Muye Luomei’s temperament, if she saw Meilin again, she would undoubtedly try to kill her.
“It was my oversight, sir,” Qingyan hastily apologized, inwardly wiping sweat from his palms, relieved he hadn’t acted on his initiative. It seemed the prince’s heart still belonged to Miss Muye. Otherwise, with his abilities, he could protect anyone he wished. Why would he need to have people avoid each other?
“Also, start preparing everything needed for a simple wedding ceremony from now on,” Murong Jinghe said, shaking his head without any hint of blame. His next words, however, truly shocked Qingyan.
“I’ve waited for ten years. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Murong Jinghe said resolutely, his face showing no excitement or nervousness about fulfilling his long-held wish, only boundless weariness.
(End of Chun Hua Yan – Chapter)