Bao Jia gazed quietly into the eyes of the man across from her. Though they were peach blossom eyes that naturally conveyed subtle affection when relaxed, and she had just seen them crinkle with laughter as he bantered with Shen Yuance outside the tent, they deliberately shed all emotion when looking at her.

It was a peculiar form of guilt.

Bao Jia suddenly smiled.

She hadn’t truly been inviting him. Opening that restaurant with such a sentimental name, teasing him, inviting him to her residence, speaking with deliberate ambiguity—drawing near, then distant—she simply wanted to see if that distant facade would crack at some point.

She didn’t know what she wanted to gain; perhaps she wanted nothing at all. Seeing how much restraint he had, she simply wanted to witness him lose control, to add some interest to her monotonous days.

If he ever took her seriously, she would shake her head and say, “Master Li’s resolve is merely this,” then clap her hands and walk away triumphantly.

With these thoughts, her gaze moved downward, from his straight, proud nose to his deep philtrum, then to his cupid’s bow. Suddenly, as if noticing something, she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.

Li Dafeng’s eyes flickered, and the hand resting on his knee suddenly tightened.

Bao Jia paused in her forward movement and lowered her gaze to his hand, where blue veins stood prominently.

“Why so nervous?” Bao Jia chuckled softly, examining the small scar near his cupid’s bow. She raised her index finger and pointed at it. “I just noticed this and suddenly remembered doing something improper when saying goodbye to Master Li. This wouldn’t be from that time, would it?”

Under her scrutiny, Li Dafeng slightly averted his gaze.

Across seven years, memories that should have blurred had remained clear, perhaps because he had revisited them thousands of times. Every scene from that night felt as though it had happened yesterday.

He remembered how, after his cold and harsh words, she had risen on her tiptoes and fiercely, recklessly crashed her lips against his.

He remembered wearing a cangue on his neck and shackles on his hands, having no power to push her away, allowing her to kiss him like a predator tearing at its prey.

He remembered her being hurt by his stubble, and as if to repay him, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin.

He remembered the salty tears flowing into their mouths, mixing with saliva and fresh blood—countless flavors mingling between their lips, swallowed gulp by gulp.

Images flashed vividly before Li Dafeng’s eyes. Finally, he replied indirectly: “The Princess remembers well.”

So it was true.

Although the scar was very faint now, barely visible even up close, it was remarkable that after seven years, there was still a trace.

“I didn’t know lips could scar. Did I bite that hard?” Bao Jia stared at his lips from just inches away.

Li Dafeng’s Adam’s apple moved slightly.

Normally, lips wouldn’t scar, but with a deep wound that wasn’t properly treated afterward, exceptions could occur.

As a physician, he knew best how to make wounds heal quickly. He simply hadn’t wanted it to heal.

On that journey, in tattered clothes and with faltering steps, his body covered with rotting frostbite in the winter, among all those wounds, only the one from her bite brought a vivid pain. When he lay in the snow, wanting to die in that numb state, it was this pain that pulled him back to the world of the living.

“…No,” Li Dafeng said after a long pause.

After another moment, Bao Jia seemed to forget what he was answering: “No, what?”

Li Dafeng replied: “Not very hard.”

Is the word “bite” too hot for your tongue? Bao Jia smiled and sat back down. “When I was young, I didn’t understand the principle of parting on good terms. I behaved rather poorly. I hope Master Li doesn’t mind.”

“The Princess exaggerates.”

Bao Jia picked up the wine pot beside her, poured a cup, and lifted it toward him in a toast: “Then—to Master Li’s lack of regret.”

Bao Jia gracefully tilted her head back and drank the wine in one gulp, then tossed the cup aside and stood up.

Li Dafeng also rose: “The Princess hasn’t had sobering tea yet.”

“Doesn’t Master Li know that being a little drunk at night is more enjoyable?” Bao Jia smiled and elegantly walked out.

In the tent, Li Dafeng watched her silhouette disappear from view. Standing in place, he silently looked at the table of cold leftovers. After a moment, he bent down to pick up the wine cup from the ground, lifted the wine pot, poured himself a cup, and drank it all in one gulp.

*

Three nights later, in the military camp’s main tent, Li Dafeng had waited all day and finally saw Yuan Ce return from the city.

News had suddenly arrived that the Queen of the Western Luo Kingdom was critically ill. The entire Xuance Army assembled at the camp, ready to depart at a moment’s notice. Li Dafeng had sat there with nothing to do all day.

Yuan Ce, on the other hand, had a fulfilling day—first finalizing his engagement, then visiting the palace, and spending the evening playing Go with his future uncle-in-law.

“It seems you’re not in a hurry to return to Hexi?” Li Dafeng stood up, hands tucked into his wide sleeves, and asked.

“I’ll go back in time for the Zhong family’s exile date. Still need to busy myself with betrothal gifts for my fiancée.”

Li Dafeng laughed: “A fiancée obtained through deception is still called a fiancée?”

“Better than not being able to deceive one at all.” Yuan Ce raised an eyebrow. “By the way, I heard at the palace today that the Princess’s residence has called for Imperial Physicians several times in the past couple of days. I don’t know who’s ill there.”

Li Dafeng’s smile faded: “Who?”

“I said I don’t know. You think I’m idle enough to create suspense like in a storybook? Seeing those physicians all flustered, it must be someone important.”

Li Dafeng frowned: “What kind of medical box did the physicians bring? What style?”

“These endless questions—if you want to know, just go yourself,” Yuan Ce closed his eyes, trying to recall. “Sandalwood color, seven drawers in front, three layers of drawers in the back.”

That was the highest grade, indicating complex full-body symptoms.

Yuan Ce added, “I heard the physician asking whether it was a house cat or a wild cat. It might have something to do with a cat.”

Cat-related, complex symptoms, needing to distinguish between house cat and wild cat—if it was a cat scratch disease—

Li Dafeng’s hand, hidden within his wide sleeve, slowly clenched.

“If you want to practice medicine, then go.” Yuan Ce tossed over a token for entering the city.

Li Dafeng barely caught the token, hesitated for a few breaths in the tent, then turned and hurriedly left the main tent.

*

Half an hour later, in the bedchamber of the Princess’s residence, Bao Jia sat on the edge of the bed with a bowl of rice oil in her hands. Seeing Li Dafeng brought in by Cui Mei, she remarked curiously: “What wind has blown Master Li here so late at night?”

Looking at the person before him who appeared perfectly fine, Li Dafeng’s heaving chest gradually calmed. He casually made up an excuse: “Imperial Physician Xu mentioned the Princess’s residence was seeking medical attention and asked this humble one to come check.”

“Didn’t Imperial Physician Xu tell you who was ill? How did Cui Mei say…” Bao Jia pointed to Cui Mei nearby. “Master Li asked about the Princess when dismounting at the gate?”

Li Dafeng’s gaze shifted slightly toward the young man lying on the bed behind Bao Jia.

“The ill one is a guest of my residence, Jin Yue, whom I mentioned to you before—Master Jiang.” Bao Jia pointed to the bed.

The young man on the bed turned his head, revealing a face that shared three parts of the facial features and five parts of the demeanor with Li Dafeng.

As their eyes met, both Jiang Jin Yue’s breathing and Li Dafeng’s hand holding the medical box tightened simultaneously.

“This Imperial Physician Xu is truly something. Unable to treat my person, I inevitably vented my frustration at him, yet he still troubled Master Li.” Bao Jia stirred the bowl with a spoon in circles. “Master Li, please sit for a moment while I feed Jin Yue his evening meal.”

Li Dafeng was invited to sit and watched as Cui Mei helped Jiang Jin Yue sit up. Bao Jia spoke to the person on the bed in a gentle, soft voice: “Be good, drink this rice oil. The kitchen has been simmering it for half a day.”

Turning her head, she resumed her usual tone and said to Li Dafeng: “Imperial Physician Xu said it’s tetanus. His arm was scratched by a cat about ten days ago, and it only manifested a couple of days ago. Any stimulation from light, sound, or wind causes his whole body to convulse. Imperial Physician Xu just applied acupuncture, which is temporarily suppressing it.”

Li Dafeng glanced at the dim light in the room and the tightly closed doors and windows, then nodded.

Jiang Jin Yue’s face was rigid from illness, making it difficult to clench his jaw. Even opening his mouth was challenging—he could only manage a small gap.

Bao Jia spooned some rice oil into his mouth, seeing half the liquid spill from the corner of his lips, she used a handkerchief to wipe it away.

Li Dafeng’s long fingers resting on his knee curled one by one. He wanted to look away, yet, as if afflicted himself, he stared unblinkingly at the two.

Jiang Jin Yue tensed his mouth and wouldn’t open it again.

“Everyone gets sick sometimes, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Bao Jia nodded toward the side. “Master Li has a physician’s compassion; he’s not laughing at you, just observing your symptoms. Right, Master Li?”

Meeting Bao Jia’s glance, Li Dafeng continued to nod.

Bao Jia spooned more rice oil, bringing it to Jiang Jin Yue’s lips. Seeing him hesitate to open his mouth, she asked: “What’s wrong? Do you want me to feed you with my mouth?”

Li Dafeng turned his head away.

Unable to speak, Jiang Jin Yue widened his eyes at Bao Jia and shook his head.

Bao Jia said, “Then be good and open your mouth.”

It took nearly half an hour to feed him the bowl of rice oil. In the airless room, the atmosphere grew increasingly suffocating, to the point where it was hard to breathe.

After a while, the sound of a bowl being set down finally came from the bedside: “Master Li, please check his pulse now.”

Bao Jia stood up, making room. Li Dafeng approached, placed a pillow on the edge of the bed, signaling Jiang Jin Yue to rest his wrist on it, then extended three fingers to take his pulse.

“How is it?” Bao Jia asked impatiently after a moment.

Li Dafeng and Jiang Jin Yue stared at each other, one intensely wide-eyed, the other calmly narrowed-eyed: “It’s not that quick.”

“Hmm?” Bao Jia heard his tone and looked down at him in surprise.

Li Dafeng paused slightly: “The Princess, please wait a moment.”

Bao Jia leaned against the bedpost, turning her head away, and saw her lips gradually curling upward in the bronze mirror.

After a while, Li Dafeng finished checking the pulse and examining the wound on Jiang Jin Yue’s arm. He diagnosed: “It is tetanus, moderate stage. With medication and acupuncture, it should turn to a mild stage within ten days.”

Bao Jia sighed in relief: “It takes Master Li to know best. That Imperial Physician Xu is increasingly useless, making me worry for two days without proper sleep.”

“Now you can rest easy, no need to be so desperate anymore, right?” Bao Jia looked at Jiang Jin Yue.

Jiang Jin Yue nodded.

“I know you were worried I wouldn’t let you take care of Ruyi anymore, but you can’t remain silent after being scratched by Ruyi. Will you dare to do this again?”

Jiang Jin Yue shook his head.

Li Dafeng’s gaze paused, suddenly lost in distant memories.

Ruyi was the most affectionate of the three kittens from back then. Every time he walked into that fragrant palace, that soft, snow-white cat would tumble into his arms.

When the palace painter wanted to paint Ruyi’s portrait, Ruyi nestled in his arms and refused to come down. The painter ended up painting both him and Ruyi together. That painting—

Catching something in his peripheral vision, Li Dafeng turned his head and saw a painting hanging on the wall.

In the painting, a grown-up Ruyi nestled in Jiang Jin Yue’s arms, squinting contentedly in sleep.

No sign that anyone was missing.

“Don’t worry, Ruyi is closest to you now. I won’t give Ruyi to anyone else.” Bao Jia reached out to touch Jiang Jin Yue’s forehead, her eyes glancing at Li Dafeng’s rigid profile, her lips slowly curling into a smile.

Jiang Jin Yue nodded, seeing Li Dafeng’s gaze fixed on the wall painting. He pressed his lips together and pointed to a teapot nearby, gesturing to Bao Jia.

Bao Jia stepped forward: “Master Li, he wants water. Should you move aside so I can feed him, or—”

Li Dafeng looked at Jiang Jin Yue, picked up the teapot, poured a cup of tea, and brought it to his lips. Jiang Jin Yue kept his mouth tightly closed, blinking with eyes that had somehow filled with tears, pitifully shaking his head at Bao Jia.

“You’re even more clingy than Ruyi,” Bao Jia smiled at Jiang Jin Yue. “All right, I’ll do it. The sick person gets their way.”

Li Dafeng gripped the teacup tightly.

The sick person gets their way—

When she suffered from her cold womb condition years ago, with severe stomach pain, she had used this same reasoning to persuade him to stay in her palace.

Once he stayed, she pushed further, asking him to massage her acupressure points.

He said it wasn’t appropriate and suggested a female official do it.

She asked if physicians didn’t distinguish between men and women.

Physicians might not distinguish between men and women, but he had feelings for her as a man for a woman.

Seeing her face, pale and breaking into a cold sweat, he had extended his hand: “All right, I’ll do it. The sick person gets their way.”

Lost in thought, Li Dafeng suddenly saw Bao Jia holding out her hand to him.

Her snow-white palm extended before his eyes, asking him to bring a cup of tea to feed someone else.

Li Dafeng handed the teacup to Bao Jia, made room for her, and turned away. In the bronze mirror, he caught a glimpse of his awkward avoidance.