“Are these the profiles of the newspaper editors?” Yan Qing picked up one of the documents.
Shi Ting drank the ginger soup. Though it burned going down, it warmed his stomach pleasantly, and he forced himself to stay alert. “For the major newspapers in Taishan to have run the story at the same time, they must have received the tip from the same source.”
“I don’t think the other party would expose themselves so easily. Whatever they submitted to the papers was probably a letter of some kind. The editors, seeing such explosive news, would naturally publish it without hesitation.” Yan Qing shook her head with a sigh. “Investigating those editors probably won’t get us anywhere.”
“You’re right.” One glance at the file told Shi Ting this was a dead end, but he had people from the precinct bring those editors in anyway, hoping to squeeze out some leads. He also had another use in mind for at least one of them.
Shi Ting set the file aside. His head was beginning to ache, and the sight of dense rows of text only made it worse.
“Are you feeling unwell?” Yan Qing noticed the tight furrow of his brow.
“A little.”
“Then why aren’t you lying down?” Yan Qing quickly gathered up the documents. “I’ve already written out a prescription and sent Jin Shan to fill it. Take the medicine and sleep it off — once the cold works its way out of your system, you’ll be fine.”
Shi Ting didn’t argue. As he made his way to the bed and lay down, he reached out and pulled Yan Qing along with him.
“Stay with me.” He held her hand and wouldn’t let go.
Yan Qing looked at him clinging to her like a child and patted him lightly on the head. “I’m not going anywhere. I still need to make sure you take your medicine.”
“Do I really have to? Honestly, I’d probably be fine by tomorrow even without it.”
“You absolutely have to!” Yan Qing’s answer was firm, leaving him no room to wriggle out of it.
She reached over and pulled the blanket up higher, tucking in the corners. “Dr. Chen should have results for us by tomorrow. I believe every crime leaves traces behind. Someone who has killed two people cannot have covered their tracks perfectly.”
“Mm.” Shi Ting closed his eyes. “I’ll go back to the scene where Xiang Lan was killed tomorrow and have another look.”
He spoke, and as he did, his eyelids grew heavy. Before he knew it, he had drifted off.
Once she was sure he was sleeping soundly, Yan Qing gently slipped her hand free and tucked his arm under the blanket.
As she stepped out of the room, Jin Shan was just returning, a paper-wrapped bundle in hand — the medicinal herbs she had asked for.
“Miss, I’ve got the medicine.”
Yan Qing took it from him. “Thank you for going.”
Jin Shan looked embarrassed. “It’s the least I could do.”
“Shi Ting has a bit of a headache and has already gone to sleep. If you have nothing else to do, stay here and keep watch. I’ll go to the kitchen and prepare the decoction.”
“Of course.” Jin Shan looked worried. “Young Master isn’t seriously ill, is he?”
“He spent half the day out in the freezing cold — it would be strange if he didn’t get sick. But it’s nothing serious. His constitution is exceptional.”
Hearing that Shi Ting would be all right, Jin Shan finally relaxed.
Yan Qing and Jing Zhi made their way to the kitchen. A small charcoal brazier burned inside, and the faint scent of herbal medicine still lingered in the air.
One of the servants had already located a clay medicine pot. “We just finished decocting medicine for Madam. The fire is still going strong — please, use it, Miss.”
“Is Auntie feeling any better?”
“Ah, still the same, I’m afraid. She’ll likely be ill for some days yet.” Mo Yunhua and her brother Mo Xiangrong had always been close, and even though her brother was a wastrel, it didn’t stop Mo Yunhua from being devoted to him.
After the servant withdrew, Yan Qing soaked the herbs in clean water, then transferred them to the medicine pot and set them over a low flame to simmer slowly.
At seven in the evening, Yan Qing carried the finished decoction to Shi Ting’s room. Jin Shan had kept vigil outside the entire time, and rose as soon as she approached. “Miss.”
“Has Shi Ting woken up?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll go wake him.”
Jin Shan opened the door and ushered Yan Qing inside, then turned and pulled the door shut behind her.
Yan Qing set the medicine down and reached out to feel his forehead. Finding no fever, she quietly let out a breath of relief.
He was barely past twenty, yet he had already studied abroad, fought on the battlefield, and carried experiences she likely knew nothing about.
Twenty-three — an age that should have been spent in carefree pleasure. Instead, he bore burdens ten times, a hundred times heavier than what most people ever knew.
He had drunk and laughed with Li Yongqi at the army barracks and then come home and fallen ill. If she hadn’t lived through it alongside him, how could she ever have understood what it cost him?
In all the years before she had known him, how much had he endured alone, how much had he suffered — the moment she let herself think about it, her heart clenched with tenderness.
Yan Qing’s eyes grew damp. Her fingers gently smoothed the furrow from his brow. As if he sensed her touch, he suddenly raised a hand and caught her wrist, murmuring her name: “Yan Qing.”
“I’m right here.” Yan Qing leaned in a little closer, smiling softly.
He slowly opened his eyes. Seeing her lovely face, he was momentarily disoriented, as though still caught in a dream. “I was just dreaming of you. I didn’t expect it to really be you.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
He curved his lips, a flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Better left unsaid.”
Knowing he must have been dreaming something improper, Yan Qing didn’t press. “Sit up and drink your medicine first, then sleep.”
“More medicine?” Shi Ting’s expression turned thoroughly aggrieved.
“I’ve prepared some candied apricots for you — very sweet. Take one right after you drink it, and I promise you won’t taste the bitterness.”
Shi Ting gave a helpless laugh. “I’m not a child. Drinking medicine and then needing a sweet — bring it over. I’ll drink it.”
Yan Qing placed the medicine bowl in his hands and watched him down it with a grimace, then smiled with relief.
“The candied apricots — are you sure you don’t want one?” Yan Qing speared a piece with a small silver fork and dangled it in front of him.
“No, thank you. You have it.” Shi Ting refused to show weakness now.
Yan Qing ate it right in front of him and made a point of sighing with appreciation. “It really is sweet.”
Shi Ting, with a mouth still full of bitterness, found it difficult not to feel a stab of envy.
“Go on, take one. Pride has its place, but sometimes you have to let it go.” Yan Qing speared another piece and placed it in his mouth. “I may not be able to take your pain from you, but I can give you this sweetness.”
Then, unable to help herself, she took his hand in both of hers. “Shi Ting — I wasn’t there to share your hardships before. But from now on, whether in poverty or in plenty, I will stay by your side. Through life and death, I will not leave you.”
Shi Ting hadn’t expected her to say something like that. A sudden warmth flooded his chest, and without thinking, he pulled her into his arms and held her close.
—
Early the next morning, Yan Qing came to Shi Ting’s quarters.
She had slept fitfully through the night, worrying he might develop a fever. But they were in the Wen household, and she could not properly stay in his room — she had done what she could, entrusting Jin Shan to watch over him carefully.
As she stepped into the courtyard, she found Shi Ting already fully dressed and standing at the door, speaking with Jin Shan.
When he saw her, he came striding over with a smile. “You’re up early.”
“You — you’ve recovered?” Yan Qing was genuinely surprised.
“Mm.” Shi Ting looked refreshed and alert. “Your medicine really works.”
His medicine may have helped, but his constitution was simply beyond the ordinary. A chill severe enough to put any other person in hospital had taken him no more than a bowl of ginger soup and a single dose of medicine.
“Any word from Dr. Chen?”
—