Even though Chief Physician Ou was already a man with one foot in the coffin, hearing Lang Jiuchuan’s words still made him stumble, and he erupted in sudden fury.
Anyone who heard someone tell them they would not meet a peaceful end would be unable to stop their color from changing — they would be angry. All the more so for a man already well into his years, for whom the very word “death” was most unwelcome, let alone a death that was not peaceful.
Chief Physician Ou glared at Lang Jiuchuan, so furious the whiskers at the corners of his mouth were quivering. His voice carried the fire of his rage. “What are you saying?”
Lang Jiuchuan was not a person who understood subtlety or circumlocution. She found such roundabout methods far too wearing on the tongue. When one encountered someone whose mind was not particularly quick, it was an even greater waste of words.
Compared to the waste of words, Lang Jiuchuan far preferred to throw a straight punch. Whether the words sounded pleasant or not — well, admittedly, they were a little unpleasant.
“I speak bluntly, but from the reading of your face, this is genuinely the conclusion.” Lang Jiuchuan said. “You have spent your life moving with extreme caution, walking on thin ice, climbing to this position inch by careful inch. The closer you came to the edge of retirement, the more fearful you became — because as an Imperial Physician, you have seen how many of your colleagues and predecessors fell and were destroyed within the Imperial Medical Institute. You know exactly what that number is.”
Chief Physician Ou’s heart stirred, and his expression softened slightly. What she said was true. Being an Imperial Physician sounded prestigious and full of glory, but those who served in the Imperial Medical Institute were all walking on thin ice. They served the powerful and the noble, moving through the inner palace and the private residences of the great families, privy to no small number of secrets and shameful affairs. One careless word or misstep and one might find oneself having an “accident” some day.
To retire smoothly and peacefully — that was true great fortune.
But she had said he would not meet a peaceful end. This meant that at the very edge of old age, when he ought to be enjoying his remaining years, he would instead encounter a catastrophe grave enough to cost him his life?
Chief Physician Ou was unwilling to believe it. His reason told him he should leave immediately — not stand here listening to this little swindler spout nonsense. And yet his feet seemed nailed to the floor, unable to move a single step.
An ending such as this — not meeting a peaceful death — might for many people be an unlikely fate. But for someone like him, as Chief Physician, the odds were anything but slim. He had been witness to far too many shameful secrets in his time.
“You are barely past the age of a coming-of-age ceremony. Even if you have learned some physiognomy arts from a Daoist school, to speak such reckless words — that is true audacity. You are the one intending to perform the gold needle procedure on Zeng Jichuan, so this old man will not argue with you today. But this old man will also offer you a word of warning: not everyone is as broad-minded and forgiving as I am. A young woman ought to keep a tighter rein on what she says.”
Lang Jiuchuan smiled serenely. “Does the Chief Physician have sons and grandsons who have entered the Imperial Medical Institute?”
Chief Physician Ou frowned. Why had she brought the subject around to his descendants again?
The Ou family had practiced medicine for generations; their ancestors had always maintained a presence within the Imperial Medical Institute. His own branch of the family was no exception. He was now contemplating retirement largely because the most talented of his grandsons had already been serving in the Institute for several years. For a grandfather and grandson — or a father and son — to serve in the same official post was not unheard of, but it was considered taboo. One of them would have to step down. He was old, and for the sake of the family and his grandson’s future, stepping down was the natural choice. And to be able to retire alive — that too was his good fortune.
But why was Lang Jiuchuan bringing this up?
“Chief Physician, this inauspicious ending you face in your old age — it will not come about because of your own actions. It will come about because of disasters brought by your descendants.” Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes studied his face carefully. “There are faint vertical needle lines forming between your brows and cutting straight through the seal hall — in the art of physiognomy, this signifies being visited by punishment in one’s later years. Your mountain root is crossed by a horizontal line and is broken, and the corners of your mouth are tinged with dark shadow — these are omens of the collapse of your family estate. As for why I say you will be implicated through your descendants: your descendants’ palace is already sunken and murky, dim and without luster, with baleful energy coiling within it — this portends certain calamity for your descendants, whether death or injury. The degree of implication you will suffer ranges from, at the lighter end, exile to a distant land; to, at the heavier end, the ruin of your entire family — death, the separation of your head from your body, dying far from home in a foreign land.”
Chief Physician Ou’s face had gone white, his body trembling slightly, his breathing grown heavier.
He looked into Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes, trying to read from them whether she was simply spouting nonsense, operating with some ulterior motive, or whether she had truly seen something.
But what he found in those dark, bright eyes was nothing but sincerity and regret — and a trace of compassion.
Indeed. If a man had spent his entire life in painstaking caution, had somehow managed to crawl through to the age where peaceful retirement was within reach, only to be condemned through the crimes of his own descendants — dying without being able to close his eyes — how could that not inspire compassion?
Lang Jiuchuan’s gaze was clear as water. She said nothing further. She could see it — beneath his eyes, in the three shadow positions, there were red veins curved like hooks cutting directly into the region of mourning and sorrow. This was the physiognomy of losing a child and bringing calamity upon kin. And yet his own official fortune position showed no darkness, no black baleful energy. All the disaster manifesting in his current face was centered entirely in the descendants’ palace. Naturally, this meant descendants committing crimes and bringing ruin upon the entire household.
“I am young, and I do not speak pleasantly. But I do not make pronouncements without basis. In the days ahead, when your family’s gate falls into ruin, it will not be because of anything you yourself have done, nor will it be a natural disaster. It will be a misfortune born within your own household.” Lang Jiuchuan made a clasped-hands bow toward him. “This young woman has said all she has to say. If I have given any offense, I ask for your gracious forgiveness. If you do not believe me, I understand that the Special Surveillance Division has now been established, and the Xuan Clan has likely sent many people here. You may seek out another physiognomist there.”
She paused, then added, “Physiognomy alone may not be able to reveal everything clearly. If you are willing, you may seek someone to calculate your fate chart, to peer into the workings of heaven, and then purge your household accordingly — this may prevent the destruction of your family.”
With that, she said nothing more.
Chief Physician Ou’s chest rose and fell. Whether from fury or agitation, he could not tell. His somewhat clouded eyes studied her for a long while before he finally turned with a sweep of his sleeves and walked away.
But only he himself knew that the hand beneath that sleeve was trembling.
Out of the private room, a wind met him, and he gave a shiver — only then realizing that his back was soaked through, his inner robes clinging cold to his skin. Yet even this cold was nothing compared to the ice lodged in his heart.
Separated head from body. Dying in a foreign land. Not meeting a peaceful end.
Every single phrase fell like a great hammer upon his skull, leaving it ringing and reverberating.
Chief Physician Ou’s step wavered, and he nearly pitched sideways — caught only by his old manservant’s steadying hand. The manservant asked, “Old Master, are you all right?”
“Back to the estate!” Chief Physician Ou closed his eyes, fingers digging tightly into the manservant’s forearm.
The manservant heard the tremor in his voice and was startled. He glanced back once — only to see that slight, frail young girl had appeared at the door at some point, and was now standing there watching them.
“Old Master needn’t get worked up over a little girl — getting your liver-fire stirred up like this is bad for your health.” The manservant supported him and offered a gentle word of counsel.
Chief Physician Ou said nothing. Leaning on him, he walked out of the Ten Thousand Affairs Shop and only when he had settled into his own carriage did he let the manservant produce a heart-saving pill that he placed under his tongue. One hand pressed over his pounding heart, he worked to push down the turmoil within.
For a long while, he leaned against the carriage wall, turning Lang Jiuchuan’s pronouncement over and over in his mind. Descendants bringing calamity. Of those in his family currently serving in official positions, aside from his grandson in the Imperial Medical Institute, there was second son in the Ministry of Works. Beyond those two, there was no one else. So which one would it be? Which one would cause the Ou family’s gate to collapse?
The Ou family carriage rolled all the way back to their estate’s gate. The old manservant called out for Third Young Master from outside, and then the curtain was lifted — Chief Physician Ou looked up and saw the grandson he was most proud of, the one best suited to carry on his mantle: Ou Sixing. The moment a smile began to form on his face, his gaze fell on the pouch hanging at Ou Sixing’s waist — and he went very still.