When she was born, there was a birthmark on her back.

The birthmark resembled an auspicious cloud. Everyone congratulated the Mo family on the joyful addition of a child, saying this child would surely be blessed in the future.

So she grew up under everyone’s expectations.

She was intelligent and perceptive in her youth—able to recognize a hundred characters at three, beginning to read medical classics at five, identifying various medicinal materials at eight, and by ten, she could attempt to prescribe for common minor ailments.

Her grandfather Mo Wensheng was an imperial physician serving in the palace, much beloved by the palace’s noble personages. However, the family was not blessed with many heirs, so seeing her interest in medicine, he taught her personally.

She learned very well.

Gradually, the family’s expectations of her grew heavier, and grandfather decided that after her coming-of-age ceremony, she would go to the Imperial Medical Bureau to study.

On the surface she appeared pleased, but inwardly she was disdainful.

Those gentlemen at the Imperial Medical Bureau were rigid in their behavior, only knowing how to follow books and seek medical principles by rote. In terms of medical texts, she had memorized no fewer than they had. Listening to their teachings was, for her, a kind of humiliation.

She had many strange and peculiar ideas, and was particularly interested in poisons. Each time, grandfather would sternly stop her, believing she was reckless and impetuous, not understanding the importance of cautious medical practice.

She scoffed at this.

Grandfather was an imperial physician serving in the palace, prescribing remedies for palace nobles year after year. When treating nobles, curing them was expected, but if treatment went wrong, one might lose their head or even implicate family members. Imperial physicians’ prescriptions were increasingly conservative—how could they understand the mysteries of using medicine, let alone using poisons?

She outwardly complied but inwardly rebelled, secretly planting poisonous herbs in the courtyard.

Until grandfather discovered this. He threw away the centipedes and venomous snakes she was raising, repeatedly warning her never to do such things again, and punished her by making her copy books before the statue of Shennong. Halfway through copying, she became annoyed and tore up the paper and brushes.

She simply enjoyed developing poisons—what was wrong with that?

What was wrong was this world, which always had so many useless and annoying rules.

She bumped into a begging child on the street and casually threw the child a silver ingot. The beggar child was grateful beyond words, kowtowing in thanks. Looking at that dirty little face, she suddenly had an idea.

She gave the beggar child her newly made poison.

The medicine wouldn’t be fatal, only making one temporarily mute for a few days. The little beggar didn’t know what it was, but seeing her dressed in fine silks, had no suspicions and tilted back their head to swallow it.

She told the child to wait at the temple. After three days, when the child returned, their throat was indeed hoarse, saying they couldn’t speak for the past few days.

She was delighted.

Thus she found an even better method for testing medicines—the capital had plenty of poor families. Those rabbits and mice were, after all, different from living people; the same poison might not produce the same effects. She tested on the maids and servant girls in her courtyard, obtaining one beautiful poison formula after another.

She came of age, and grandfather sent her to study at the Imperial Medical Bureau. She ranked first in every examination, her reputation even spreading to the Hanlin Medical Academy. Later, medical officials brought difficult cases they couldn’t cure to test her. She calmly wrote prescriptions, and after patients took the medicine for some time, they indeed recovered. From then on, her fame spread far and wide.

She took this opportunity to propose to grandfather that she wouldn’t go to the Imperial Medical Bureau.

This time grandfather agreed.

A “genius” granddaughter who didn’t need to attend the Imperial Medical Bureau could bring more honor to the Mo family in the capital.

She was also satisfied, finally no longer having to waste time on those pedantic medical principles and dogmas.

Medical practice was different from studying books. Without personally seeing a large number of patients and conditions, one couldn’t become a leader in the medical field merely by reading a few medical classics and pharmaceutical theories. However, she had a large number of “medicine people” available for testing, so her “medical skills” advanced rapidly.

As her medical skills improved, she grew older. Her father intended to arrange a marriage for her, but she refused. Her usually mediocre father was particularly insistent on this matter.

“When a woman reaches the proper age, she should marry. Do you plan to show your face in public treating patients in the future?”

She knew what her father was thinking.

He himself was mediocre, suppressed by grandfather, yet had produced an outstanding daughter. If she had been a son it would have been fine, but being a daughter only highlighted his incompetence further.

A father could also be jealous of his own daughter, so he wanted to confine her to the inner quarters to demonstrate his own status.

Following parental commands and matchmaker’s words, he indeed could decide her marriage matters, and grandfather couldn’t say anything about it.

So she poisoned him to death.

The medicine was administered bit by bit, unknowingly and imperceptibly, leaving no trace for anyone to detect. Even grandfather noticed nothing amiss. Her father died before arranging her engagement. According to custom, she had to observe mourning for one year.

While burning paper money, she knelt before the spirit altar in plain white mourning clothes, head bowed, face sorrowful, yet when she raised her hand, she concealed the smile at her lips.

No one in the family noticed. She became even happier, throwing herself wholeheartedly into developing new poisons. She had more and more formulas in her hands, but the more this was so, the more she felt that her mastery of poison classics and pharmaceutical theories was far from sufficient.

Human traffickers searched everywhere for poor young children for her—with just a little silver, she could buy testing tools. She hid them in secret chambers, making them test poisons. Who knew that among them was actually the illegitimate son of a Ministry of Justice assistant minister?

Thus the matter was exposed.

Grandfather looked at her in disbelief, so angry he coughed up blood: “Unfilial daughter! Beast!”

She laughed: “Medicine and poison share common principles. The poison formulas obtained from them might benefit all people under heaven in the future. Those beggars are as insignificant as grass—dying this way could be considered valuable.”

“Smack—”

Grandfather slapped her.

She stared back coldly.

“Go.” The white-haired old man slumped his head dejectedly, his tone carrying unprecedented fatigue. “Flee far away and don’t come back.”

Grandfather wanted to send her away.

She was the most talented offspring of the Mo family, raised personally by grandfather from childhood—in the end, he couldn’t bear to abandon her. She hid in the shadows, watching the entire Mo household being thrown into prison. She should have been taken away by people grandfather had arranged, but she couldn’t bear to leave behind the poison classics she had written and wanted to return to retrieve them. Being discovered, she had no choice but to throw down an oil lamp and set a great fire, trapping the maid who had come with her inside, while she painfully escaped alone.

The maid died, becoming a charred corpse. Grandfather identified that as her, so Mo Ruyun died in that great fire.

Mo Ruyun no longer existed in this world.

Wearing a veil and carrying the money grandfather had given her, she left the capital.

A young woman alone in the world always attracted unwanted attention. Those who had ill intentions toward her all quietly disappeared in the end.

Poison was the most wonderful thing in the world.

She traveled to many places, finally settling at Luomei Peak in southern Su.

It was a beautiful mountain. When winter came, with white snow and red plum blossoms, it was charming and full of feeling.

She gradually took in sixteen children, all from poor families—young children with weak bodies who were most sensitive to poisonous substances. She used her newly made poisons on them. Unfortunately, children’s bodies could hardly endure it. Most lasted only a few months, the longest no more than half a year before dying, and could only be buried in the grassland behind the thatched cottage.

Near Changwu County there was a rare medicinal herb. When she went to collect medicine, she accidentally encountered a plague in the county town. The county magistrate’s son offered high payment for treatment. She was very satisfied, and even more satisfied to receive her seventeenth gift there.

Little Seventeen was different from the previous sixteen. During the great epidemic in Changwu County, her family of four fell ill one after another, yet she alone remained unharmed. Her constitution was already special, making her the best vessel for poison testing.

She brought Little Seventeen back to Luomei Peak.

Little Seventeen was clever, gentle, quick and agile in her work, and most importantly, she could read.

The medical classics and pharmaceutical theories she casually left lying around the house, Little Seventeen would always secretly read when she wasn’t looking. Watching this, she found it very interesting.

Little Seventeen was also very determined. The previous sixteen had not survived half a year, but she had the strongest will to live, always managing to struggle through one more day.

Like casually scattering a seed on the ground, not knowing what kind of flower would bloom. She expected it to be a poisonous flower, the most gorgeous and brilliant, to which she could give all her poison classics. After her death, there would be someone in this world who could inherit her legacy.

Unfortunately, Little Seventeen was different.

This child was very clever, yet sometimes very foolish. She had given Little Seventeen many opportunities to kill her, but Little Seventeen had never considered it. Once when her old injury flared up and she suddenly fainted, Little Seventeen actually brewed medicine for her.

Actually, Little Seventeen could have taken the opportunity to kill her or threaten her to provide the antidote.

But this child didn’t.

In that moment she understood that Little Seventeen was a different kind of person from herself.

She was about to die. The great fire at the Mo family that year had destroyed her skin and appearance, and these years she had been sustained by poison medicine. However, her body as a vessel was about to collapse, and she needed to begin arranging her final affairs.

The poison classics and formulas must be buried with her—nothing in this world was more precious to her than these.

Her burial place should be at Luomei Peak, which was good. She liked this place—clouds drifting and mist dispersing, with uniquely beautiful scenery.

Only Little Seventeen remained.

This medicine person, this seventeenth medicine person who should have been buried in the grassland long ago, had persistently lived on this mountain for so many years. Watching her carry a medicine basket down the mountain, she pondered how to arrange Little Seventeen’s ending.

She had never married and had no offspring. If she had a daughter, perhaps she would be about Little Seventeen’s age. Unfortunately, the girl’s heart was too soft. If she wanted her to become the same kind of person as herself and inherit her legacy, she would need to arrange a game for Little Seventeen.

So she arranged for Little Seventeen to personally “kill” her.

This child was very clever, able to think of using her own blood as a medicine catalyst. At the final moment, looking at her through tearful eyes, she felt very happy.

Killing people—once there’s a first time, there will be a second. Someone who actively kills can no longer be a healer.

Little Seventeen was exceptionally gifted. These years following her, she had thoroughly studied poison classics and pharmaceutical theories—such talent shouldn’t be buried.

She should be like herself, traveling to many places in the future, seeing many people. All people and things under heaven were merely vessels for poison—no need for pity or sympathy, just do what you enjoy doing.

In a person’s life, one must do some things they enjoy.

Just like herself.

Compared to supporting a husband and teaching children through an ordinary life, this was obviously more interesting.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Little Seventeen’s sobbing came from beside her. Looking at this sad child, she felt somewhat amused, suddenly realizing that after being on the mountain so long, she had never asked the girl’s name. She wanted to speak, but discovered more blood flowing from the corner of her mouth—she could no longer speak.

Never mind, not knowing was fine.

After all, she was about to forget even her own name.

Her name… what was she called again?

The mountains were full of clouds and mist, misty white and vast like rolling waves. Within them, she faintly heard people talking.

It seemed there was a white-haired old man holding a little girl with double hair buns, sitting in the courtyard, teaching her to write stroke by stroke.

“Beyond the eastern gate, there are women like clouds. Though they are like clouds, they are not what I long for…”

“Oh my, written just right! Truly worthy of what the teacher said—auspicious clouds have descended upon the Mo family!”

The laughter gradually faded away, leaving only fresh ink marks on paper.

There were two slightly childish, crooked characters—

Ruyun.