Madam Bai cried herself out and fell back into a deep sleep. Lang Jiuchuan withdrew the needles, her gaze settling on the sleeping woman’s face. Two fingers rested against her wrist, and her brow creased, then eased.

After a thorough reading of the pulse, Lang Jiuchuan finally rose and moved to one side. She took up the brush and wrote, crossing things out and adding things in, before copying out two clean copies on fresh paper — the ideal convalescent prescription for Madam Bai’s present condition.

“This one — have it filled immediately and start the decoction today. She needs to drink it continuously for one month, to first treat the postpartum hemorrhagic collapse and begin restoring her blood essence.” She handed the sheet marked with the circle symbol to the older attendant, then passed over the second sheet. “After one month, switch to this formula — it consolidates the foundation and replenishes vital energy while correcting imbalances and expelling residual pathogenic influence, and also nourishes the blood and calms the spirit. This tonic formula can be taken continuously going forward.”

The older attendant took both sheets and, carefully and tentatively, asked, “Master, can my lady’s condition truly be called postpartum recovery?”

“Why should it not be?” Lang Jiuchuan’s expression was cool, with a faint thread of compassion. “She was genuinely with child — flesh and blood of both her and Master Bai. It was only because the vengeful spirit entered the womb that she lost it.” She paused. “And that is all there is left to say. A pity.”

The attendant’s heart lurched. She was about to ask what that meant, but Lang Jiuchuan continued, “She did experience a true hemorrhagic collapse. And over this period, the vengeful yin-fetus has been draining her blood essence unceasingly. Her body has been depleted to an extreme degree — she can only be maintained through careful nourishment.”

“My lord — you’re awake?” Steward Huang and Yice had been helping apply medicine to Bai Maoxing’s head when they saw his eyes open, and were quietly relieved.

Bai Maoxing took in his familiar surroundings, his head humming and ringing. His tongue ached, which helped bring him back to some semblance of clarity. He spoke in a hoarse rasp, “I’m not dead?”

“You’re alive — still alive, my lord. The master has great skill.” Steward Huang dabbed at the corner of his eye, looking toward Lang Jiuchuan with undisguised gratitude.

Lang Jiuchuan had already come to stand nearby. Yice, reading the room, stepped aside — but drifted discreetly toward the older attendant and said in a low voice, “Let me have a look at that prescription.”

He was a Maoshan sect Daoist — medicine was not really his area. He knew a bit about identifying medicinal herbs, and could at best treat simple ailments like wind-cold, and only the most straightforward kind at that. For anything more serious, he was frankly out of his depth. His specialties were ghost-catching, demon-driving, and siting auspicious grounds. He could manage those.

But today, he found himself rather less confident than usual.

He had come to help as well, after all. The attendant did not think twice and passed the prescription over.

Yice looked it over. The herbs listed were a mix — some costly, some not. The most expensive was likely ginseng of fifty years or more — though the Bai family were tea merchants, and rumor had it one of their teas was even a tribute variety, so money was no object to them. These herbs should be obtainable.

He studied the prescription — though in truth he couldn’t make much sense of it. But looking at the combination of ingredients and the dosing, he could only say… he was inexplicably and thoroughly impressed?

Yice suddenly felt a prickling on the back of his neck, and turned to find Jian Lan glaring at him like a hawk. She plucked the prescription out of his hands and returned it to the older attendant. “Go and fill the medicine quickly — the mistress is still unconscious. You mustn’t delay.”

The attendant replied dutifully and left.

Jian Lan fixed Yice with one more warning look, her meaning unmistakable. “A prescription isn’t something that suits just anyone. My mistress wrote it specifically for Madam Bai’s current condition. It may not be right for someone else. Medicine is not to be taken carelessly.”

Yice: “……”

The implication being — she’s warning me not to steal the formula?

He gave a somewhat sulky huff and muttered, “I was only checking whether she’d prescribed correctly.”

Jian Lan gave a light, derisive sound and stayed by the table, watching Lang Jiuchuan from across the room. There was still the other patient. With pointed edge, she said, “Truly hard on my mistress — she’s been running from one task to the next without a moment’s rest, and her face is so pale just looking at her breaks your heart. Unlike some people, who look perfectly rosy and at ease.”

Yice: “!”

Sharpest-tongued servant girl.

Lang Jiuchuan, meanwhile, was reading Bai Maoxing’s pulse. She paid no attention to the tears of a man who had narrowly escaped death, and said, “The vengeful spirit has been eliminated. Your lives are no longer in danger — there’s no need to worry. For now, focus on nursing yourselves back to health. Both you and your wife have suffered severe depletion this time, and you will both need careful recovery going forward.”

Bai Maoxing, his face still pale, said weakly, “Thank you for your trouble, Master.”

Lang Jiuchuan went to write the prescription. As she had said — both husband and wife had endured tremendous suffering and were grievously depleted. That they had not died was the protection of merit accumulated over years of charitable deeds for the sake of having a child. But the damage to their vital energy was what it was. To restore even a semblance of decent health would be a great feat; to hope for anything more would be impossible.

With Madam Bai’s prescription already done, Bai Maoxing’s came quickly. Just as the last character left her brush, she heard footsteps outside — rapid and closing fast.

A servant called out to announce the arrival of the maternal uncle.

Lang Jiuchuan set down her brush. A moment later, a stocky, broad-shouldered man of imposing build — with a full, slightly scraggly beard on his broad, resolute face — strode in, his expression full of urgency. The moment he entered, he was already calling out, “What’s happened here — what happened — Liniang, Liniang?!”

Before anyone could answer, an even more forceful woman’s voice rang out from beyond the doorway: “Are the physicians all here? If anyone can’t walk, carry them — and be quick about it!”

In a moment, a tall and full-figured woman swept in with quick, decisive strides. Lang Jiuchuan needed only one glance to know: this was a husband and wife.

The Western City Commander Liang Mifeng and his wife, Madam He. Both had the same fiery and vigorous manner, and an upright energy that radiated from their bearing. Madam He carried some burden of karmic debt — but her accumulated merit was even more substantial, and Lang Jiuchuan could not immediately determine how she had come by it.

There was likely to be considerable weeping here. Lang Jiuchuan gathered her things and, with Jian Lan in tow, stepped out of the bedchamber and waited in the outer room.

Yice couldn’t figure out why she had simply left — until the sounds of cursing and weeping erupted behind the wall, several voices overlapping in a deafening rush, and he scrambled out immediately after.

He found Lang Jiuchuan sitting in a chair in the outer room with perfect composure, drinking tea. He cleared his throat, shuffled over with deliberate slowness, and said, “Didn’t expect it of you — you look delicate enough to be blown over, yet you’re quite capable. Where did you train, and what spiritual clan do you currently belong to?”

Probing, are we!

Lang Jiuchuan set down her teacup and looked at him, with a cool, faintly mocking glint in her eye. “Does everyone who practices the occult arts have to join some spiritual clan, as you do? To walk the path of cultivation is to walk it — why turn it into joining a faction, as though one were entering the criminal underworld? You said earlier that you were a disciple of the Feng Family — is the Feng Family truly so destitute that they can’t even provide you with a decent set of robes? You look positively shabby.”

Yice’s face went green. He started and stumbled over his words. “You don’t understand — I joined the Feng Family for a reason.”

Lang Jiuchuan caught, with sharp instinct, the flash of revulsion and suppressed fury that crossed his eyes when he spoke the name “Feng Family.” She raised an eyebrow slightly. That reason — could it be a grudge? Destruction of his clan and theft of treasures?

After all, the Feng Family was known for forging instruments and refining treasures. Some of their most powerful artifacts may well have been taken from other sects.

Yice was about to say more, when another commotion broke out behind them. All eyes turned — and they saw Commander Liang and Madam He, one each supporting Bai Maoxing and his wife, emerging from the room. The moment they caught sight of Lang Jiuchuan and the others, both of them dropped to their knees.

“We thank the Master with all our hearts for saving our younger sister and her husband. Please accept our bow.”