Fangke’s face turned pale with shock when he saw Lin Sui’an — she had been carried in by Hua Yitang, her complexion white as paper, the blood vessels beneath her skin faintly tinged with blue-green, crisscrossing her neck and arms like eerie totems.

Hua Yitang’s expression was even more frightening than Lin Sui’an’s. As he laid her down on the bed, his fingers trembled violently.

Mu Xia and Yita followed behind, utterly at a loss, while Jin Ruo called out urgently: “That Xuanming Shanren sprayed Master with a mouthful of blue talisman water — Master has been poisoned! Doctor Fang, please, hurry and examine Master —”

Fangke: “Everyone out!”

No one dared utter another word. They retreated in unison, and only when Hua Yitang rose to leave did the unconscious Lin Sui’an suddenly seize his arm with both hands — with astonishing strength. Hua Yitang’s face went white with pain, but he clenched his jaw and made no sound.

Lin Sui’an’s brow was deeply furrowed, her lips flushed with a strange, feverish red. Her eyeballs moved wildly beneath her eyelids, as though she was marshaling every ounce of her strength to fight something off. It was the first time Fangke had ever seen Lin Sui’an so fragile. The way she clung to Hua Yitang resembled a drowning person clutching a piece of driftwood.

Hua Yitang’s eyes reddened. He knelt on one knee beside the bed. “Mm. I’m right here.”

Lin Sui’an murmured something incoherent and released her grip on his wrist. Remarkably, the furrow in her brow eased slightly as well.

Fangke was greatly startled, but the situation was too urgent for careful thought. He had no choice but to allow Hua Yitang to remain for the time being.

Lin Sui’an’s pulse was chaotic — now racing, now sluggish. The blood vessels on the back of her hand and at her neck pulsed faintly, as though some restless, malevolent presence was burrowing through her bloodstream. Fangke’s mind immediately went to the assassin in Guangdu City who had died when his heart burst from the blood — Lin Sui’an’s current symptoms bore a disturbing resemblance to that man’s. Her heart was beating too fast, the pressure in her blood vessels too great. If left unchecked, she would, in all likelihood, meet the same fate — her heart rupturing and killing her outright.

“It is the poison of the Longshen Fruit,” Fangke concluded his diagnosis. “The most pressing matter is to calm the boiling blood within Lin Sui’an’s body. Remove her outer garments first — I must apply the needles!”

As he spoke, Fangke swiftly retrieved his silver needles, sterilized them over a candle flame, and turned to look at Hua Yitang — whereupon he nearly rolled his eyes straight to the ceiling. Hua Yitang had torn a strip from his sleeve and bound it over his eyes. His robes were of the most exquisite, translucent, flowing fabric imaginable — even seven or eight layers of it could not conceal a single mole on the skin beneath. A single layer draped over his eyes, thin as a cicada’s wing, was utterly useless. It was impossible to fathom what he thought he was accomplishing with this self-deception.

Hua Yitang himself knew perfectly well he was only fooling himself. But if he put nothing over his eyes, he truly, truly — oh no — the blindfold was probably tied too tight, cutting off the circulation; his earlobes were burning terribly. Through that gauzy layer, the young woman before him looked all the more delicate and beautiful. Shaking from head to toe, he untied Lin Sui’an’s night-travel garments and her outer robe, and had just reached for the inner garment when Fangke stopped him with a sharp cry.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

Hua Yitang startled: “Wasn’t it you who said to take off her clothes?”

Fangke: “The acupuncture points are at the head, neck, arms, legs, and feet. Removing the outer garments is simply to help dissipate heat.”

Hua Yitang flushed crimson to the roots of his ears: “…Why didn’t you say so earlier?!”

“With a mind as impure as yours, what could you possibly think of that is decent?” Fangke said dismissively, and swiftly inserted silver needles into Lin Sui’an’s Fengchi, Xingjian, Quchi, Taichong, Baihui, Yinlingquan, Sanyinjiao, and Yanggu acupoints, then let blood from the tips of both ears. In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, Lin Sui’an was drenched in sweat. Hua Yitang dampened a cloth with warm water and carefully wiped her forehead and neck, his eyes rimmed red, lips pressed tightly together — he looked on the verge of tears.

Fangke checked Lin Sui’an’s pulse again. Her heart rate had dropped somewhat. He quickly wrote out a prescription for heat-clearing and detoxifying herbs, and called Mu Xia in to gather and prepare the medicine through the night. Fortunately they had brought along a supply of common medicinal herbs for this journey — otherwise, Lin Sui’an’s chances would have been very grim indeed.

While the medicine was being prepared, Fangke applied the needles once more, and remarkably managed to stabilize her blood pressure and heart rate. He himself was quietly astonished — he had not treated a patient in quite some time, yet his medical skill had reached such a refined level. Then his gaze fell on Hua Yitang pacing anxiously in circles, an almost visible fragrance rising from the top of his head, and a flash of insight came to him.

“Hua Yitang, what formula is in your incense today?”

Hua Yitang was busy wiping Lin Sui’an’s sweat and replied absently, “I don’t know. Mu Xia prepared it.”

Shortly after, Mu Xia brought in the medicine he had finished decocting. Fangke asked Mu Xia the same question — and as expected, Mu Xia was reliable: he immediately wrote out the formula for Hua Yitang’s incense. Just as Fangke had suspected, the incense was called “Silver Toad Bathed in Water.” It was made entirely from exceedingly rare and expensive Persian aromatics, among which were ingredients known for their ability to awaken the mind, calm the spirit, and steady the vital energy — in other words, by some extraordinary stroke of fortune, it happened to suppress the Longshen Fruit poison in Lin Sui’an’s body.

After drinking the medicine, Lin Sui’an’s sleep visibly grew more peaceful. Hua Yitang held her hand and watched the blood vessels on the back of it gradually return to their normal blue-green color. He was almost moved to tears of relief, and lavished extravagant praise upon Fangke, calling him a reincarnation of Hua Tuo himself.

Fangke silently pocketed the incense formula back into his sleeve and, with rare modesty, offered a single word: “Flattery.” Inwardly, he thought that these two and their luck of stumbling upon a remedy through sheer blind chance was truly one of a kind in all the world.

“Something’s wrong!” Yita came rushing in, waving his arms frantically. “Big — big groups of Taoists have come! Outside — chaos.”

Fangke was alarmed. He had suspected that once Xuanming Shanren discovered something amiss, he would lead men into the county town to search — but he had not expected them to arrive so swiftly. Lin Sui’an had only just escaped danger and could not be moved. If the Taoists from the Longshen Temple stormed in now, a single glance would tell them that Lin Sui’an was the thief who had broken into the temple that night.

Fangke shot a quick look at Hua Yitang, but Hua Yitang seemed not to have heard Yita at all — he sat holding his handkerchief, wiping carefully along Lin Sui’an’s hairline, inch by inch.

Fangke: “Hua Yitang — what do we do?!”

Hua Yitang half lowered his lashes. The flickering candlelight fell across his profile, all sharp angles and shifting light and shadow. “Stall for time,” he said.

Fangke followed Yita and rushed to the front hall of the clinic, his heart pounding with dread. Without Lin Sui’an as a backup, he had no sense of security whatsoever. But the situation had come to this, and he had no choice but to steel himself and trust that pampered layabout just this once — and hope that Hua Yitang’s brain, which had at least occasionally proven itself, could navigate them through this crisis.

The front hall of the clinic was shut tight, doors and windows closed. The heavy thudding of feet made the ground tremble.

“All shops — open your doors! The Longshen Temple is searching for a criminal! Open up!”

Jin Ruo had changed into a clean set of clothes, and she and Yita stood one on either side of the door panel, four large eyes staring at Fangke in unison, filled with trust. Mu Xia, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Fangke felt a dull ache in his teeth. He was nothing but an ordinary coroner — how had he suddenly been thrust into the role of leader in a moment of crisis?

The door shuddered under the blows. The smell of torches seeped through the cracks, like countless sharp needles.

“Open at once! Open up! Open up!!”

Fangke drew a quiet breath, and nodded to Jin Ruo and Yita.

Jin Ruo and Yita exchanged a glance, then drew the bolt and pulled open the door. In an instant, blinding firelight swept in on a wave of humid night air. Xuanming Shanren stood in the center of the street, flywhisk in hand, his face mottled black and blue — like a piece of smoked meat cooked to roughly half-done — with a troop of bruised and battered Taoists behind him. Every shop on the street had been forced open. The proprietor of the neighboring teahouse stood outside, face ashen with fright, trembling as Taoists ransacked his establishment.

The blazing torchlight made the street as bright as noon. The frenzied shouts of the Taoists cast twisted, beastlike shadows across the pale ground.

Xuanming Shanren spotted Fangke and narrowed his eyes as he walked forward.

“I remember you. You’re a physician.”

Fangke lowered his eyes and clasped his hands in a bow. “May I ask, Abbot — what has happened to warrant such a large-scale search?”

“A thief broke into the Longshen Temple tonight!” Xuanming Shanren said, coldly scrutinizing Fangke. “Not only were many of my disciples injured — three of our side halls were burned to the ground!”

“Oh my. What sort of brazen criminal would dare do such a thing — truly outrageous.”

Fangke did his utmost to mimic Hua Yitang’s exaggerated, theatrical manner of speaking, but his expression was wooden and his tone flat, so that the effect came across less as dramatic outrage and more like cold mockery and biting sarcasm.

Xuanming Shanren’s expression sharpened. He flicked his flywhisk. “This clinic is the most suspicious of all — search it!”

More than ten Taoists surged forward with torches. Fangke caught a glimpse of Jin Ruo drawing the dagger from her sleeve, poised to fight to the death. With no time to think, he swept his sleeve aside and stepped forward, lifting his chin and shouting at the top of his voice, “Stand back!”

It must be said that Fangke was indeed the coroner specially commissioned by the Court of Judicial Review after passing through many trials — a man who had seen his share of imposing scenes. That shout and that stance carried genuine authority, and it actually stopped the Taoists in their tracks.

“Do you have any idea who I am?! How dare you behave so presumptuously — the audacity!” A single glance from Fangke, and Jin Ruo and Yita moved instinctively to flank him on either side — one with cold, fierce eyes, the other with icy blue irises like glaciers — the two of them looking for all the world like a pair of fearsome guardian deities.

Xuanming Shanren paused. He quickly ran through his recollection of Fangke’s conduct during the day: the man had been arrogant, seemingly quite displeased with the Longshen Temple — and more importantly, County Deputy Zhu Dachang had shown considerable partiality toward him. Could it be that he had the backing of the Zhu family?

He was still turning this over in his mind when the sound of rapid footsteps came from the end of the street. Zhu Dachang arrived at the head of a squad of constables, gasping for breath, and when he saw Xuanming Shanren blocking the entrance of Fang’s clinic, his face went white. “Abbot, please wait! Apprehending criminals and maintaining public order is the duty of the county deputy — there is no need for the Abbot to attend to this personally!” Zhu Dachang said, forcing a smile. “Whatever questions the Abbot has, I can look into them on your behalf!”

Xuanming Shanren gave a cold laugh. “I suspect the thief who set fire to the Longshen Temple tonight is hiding in this very clinic!”

Zhu Dachang waved his hands repeatedly. “That is absolutely impossible!”

“Why is the County Deputy so certain?”

“Ahem —” Zhu Dachang drew Xuanming Shanren aside and lowered his voice. “To be honest with you, Doctor Fang once did me a great favor. He later got into a bit of trouble in the eastern capital and could no longer get by there, so he came to find me. I know his character better than anyone — a bit wooden, perhaps, but completely honest and law-abiding. He could not possibly be mixed up with any criminals.”

“Are you certain of this, Deputy Zhu?”

“Absolutely certain — I could not be more serious!” Zhu Dachang took a string of coins from the young man behind him and pressed it into Xuanming Shanren’s hand. “Abbot, rest assured — even if I must turn all of Cheng County upside down, I will find the thief who broke into the Longshen Temple, and I will have him flayed, his bones crushed and scattered to the wind!”

Xuanming Shanren pocketed the coins and gave a nod. “I see.”

Zhu Dachang breathed a sigh of relief. The young man behind him also exhaled, slipped quietly back into the crowd, and exchanged a look with Fangke. He was a clear-eyed, handsome youth of about thirteen or fourteen — Mu Xia.

Fangke had been sweating through his robes. When he saw Mu Xia bringing Zhu Dachang to the rescue, he inwardly conceded that Hua Yitang had actually come through this time. But then, at that very moment, a glint flashed in Xuanming Shanren’s eyes, and he swept his flywhisk high and cried out, “All disciples — tear this clinic apart, floor to ceiling!”

The Taoists crashed inside in a single wave — so many, so fast, that Fangke and the others had not even had time to react before they were swept aside. Jin Ruo’s eyes turned red and she moved to fight her way through, but Yita grabbed her arm and held her back.

“Sishi has a plan,” Yita said.

Fangke barely kept his grip on the bottle of poison he’d been clutching. If Yita had spoken even a moment later, he would have scattered it.

Xuanming Shanren walked into the clinic with a cold smile, swaggering as though he owned the place. The Taoists swept through like a plague of locusts, overturning every piece of furniture and every object in sight. Zhu Dachang followed behind, pale and grim, as the Taoists barged into the back quarters and kicked open the door of each and every room, rummaging through everything chaotically. They reached the last room — gave it a kick — and the door didn’t open.

“Abbot, this room is suspicious!”

“Break it down!”

The door panel burst open with a crash. Everyone surged inside — and then froze, every last one of them.

The room was filled with a dizzying, heady fragrance. A strikingly beautiful young man sat on the bed, his upper body bare. His long hair, black as freshly washed silk, fell loose over skin that gleamed like congealed cream. His face was as lovely as a peach blossom, and in the dark, clear eyes, tears shimmered and swirled — utterly bewitching. The lower half of his body was concealed by a quilt, his slender legs and bare feet peeking out at the edge, making it evident he wore nothing beneath the covers. On the other side of the quilt was another pair of bare feet — small and delicate, unmistakably a woman’s.

The young man appeared terrified. He hastily pulled the quilt to cover the young woman’s feet, his entire body trembling. His long lashes fluttered wildly as crystal teardrops rolled down his face one after another. “Doctor — Doctor Fang — she and I — we are genuinely in love, we — we couldn’t help ourselves, and we — we made our vows to each other — it’s real, it’s sincere — you can’t tear us apart — please!!”

The crowd stood stunned by the young man’s breathtaking beauty before slowly regaining their wits, blinking in bewilderment at Fangke.

A thick blue vein throbbed at Fangke’s temple. He pointed at the young man on the bed and unleashed a torrent of abuse: “You worthless, unscrupulous creature! You had designs on my sister long before this — calculated, scheming, underhanded, utterly shameless! You brazen-faced, incompetent, good-for-nothing dog! I’ll beat you to death!”

As luck would have it, a broom stood propped against the back of the door. Fangke snatched it up and began beating the young man over the head with it. The broom had clearly not been cleaned in several centuries — when swung, it sent clouds of dust and grime billowing in all directions. Jin Ruo and Yita charged in screaming and clawing, and combined with Fangke’s earth-shaking tirade of curses, the entire room resembled a sandstorm tearing through a village.

“Quickly — escort the Abbot out! Such filth and vulgarity cannot be allowed to soil the Abbot’s enlightened eyes!” Zhu Dachang bellowed, hauling Xuanming Shanren out of the room. The Taoists retreated, shielding their heads and covering their faces, glancing at one another in dumbfounded disbelief — clearly still unable to process the magnitude of this scandal. Inside, Fangke’s curses and the young man’s cries rose and fell in alternating waves, the beating in full, vigorous swing.

Xuanming Shanren — now coated in dust — hacked and coughed uncontrollably. “What — cough cough — what is the meaning of all this ridiculous nonsense?! Cough cough! Deputy Zhu, what kind of friends do you keep?!”

Zhu Dachang looked utterly miserable. “I truly had no idea, Abbot!”

“Abbot! We have found the thief — at Yunmeng Quarter in the south of the city!” A Taoist came sprinting in with the report.

Xuanming Shanren’s spirit surged. “Are you certain?!”

“The build and clothing match exactly,” the Taoist shouted. “And especially the sword — a green blade, with green light! There is no mistake!”

“Gather all disciples — full pursuit at once!”

“Yes, Abbot!”

Zhu Dachang glanced back at the chaos unfolding in the room — smoke-thick with dust, noise beyond description — and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. “All constables, hear my order — assist the Longshen Temple in apprehending the criminal!”

“Understood!”

Everyone departed. Fang’s clinic fell quiet. Mu Xia locked the front door and walked briskly back to the inner quarters, entering Lin Sui’an’s room and latching the bolt behind him.

The room was in complete disarray, with more than an inch of settled dust. Jin Ruo and Yita fanned the air between coughs. Fangke threw down the broom, exhausted, drenched in sweat, and sat down on the floor without any desire to say a single word.

Hua Yitang sat on the edge of the bed and unhurriedly dressed himself, pulling his trouser legs back down. He rubbed his nose and sneezed, then said: “Brother Fang, your eloquence is quite admirable — you cursed for that entire stretch and never repeated yourself once. Could it be that you have harbored resentment toward me for some time, and simply seized this opportunity to air both old and new grievances in one go?”

Fangke shot Hua Yitang a look. “Every word came straight from the heart.”

Hua Yitang snickered twice.

Jin Ruo’s sweat and dust had mixed into a paste on her face, crumbling off as she wiped it: “You with the Hua surname — only you could come up with something so outrageous. When Master wakes up, just wait for the beating you deserve!”

Yita shook her fist. “Pig man — I’ll hit you!”

Hua Yitang smiled faintly, gazing quietly at Lin Sui’an on the bed. Lin Sui’an’s face and body were untouched by even a speck of dust, her socks still on her feet, bundled warm and snug within the quilt, sleeping soundly.

Hua Yitang swept a fingertip across the sweat at Lin Sui’an’s temple, and said softly: “You had better wake up soon — so you can give me a proper beating…”

Yun Zhong Yue sat in the fork of an old locust tree, watching the Taoists from the Longshen Temple blunder aimlessly around the city like headless flies, and grinned — deeply pleased with his choice of tree. The branches were dense, the location ideal, positioned exactly in the blind spot of any line of sight. Looking up from below, there was nothing to be seen but a vast expanse of dark, shadowy foliage.

The pouch in his arms was satisfyingly heavy. He opened it: gold leaf after gold leaf, packed full. He took one out and bit it, and the taste of wealth and indulgence flooded across his tongue — Hua family’s fourth young master was indeed lavishly generous. All he had to do was impersonate Lin Sui’an and wander around the city for a while, and he’d earned thirty gold pieces. A steal!

The only problem was the other object — Yun Zhong Yue looked at the blade resting beside him and frowned slightly — Qian Jing was undeniably an exceptional weapon, but it was too heavy. He had barely carried it through two streets before he was nearly run into the ground with exhaustion.

To think that Lin Niangzi could wield something this heavy with effortless grace — she truly was not human.

“Better return the sword sooner rather than later,” Yun Zhong Yue tapped the scabbard and muttered to himself. “The color of this blade gives me the creeps. Something about it feels like an ill omen.”

Mini skit:

Lin Sui’an: Snoring away, snoring away.

I, your father, survived the great calamity — and lived to tell the tale!