“Old Qiao, congratulations on your promotion,” the officer said with a smile, reaching out to give Qiao Minghua’s shoulder a heavy pat.

Qiao Minghua’s frail frame couldn’t withstand such a blow and nearly fell over, causing the nearby officers to burst into laughter.

Promoted?

Promoted!

“Not just you—all the military physicians in the guard cities are the same,” the officer said, looking at these dazed military physicians and shaking his head.

These worthless people, how strange!

Qiao Minghua was the first to come to his senses. His usually indifferent expression suddenly became excited, his body trembling so much he could barely stand.

All of them…

All the military physicians…

He raised his head. It was noon, the sunlight harsh, but he still stared fixedly until his eyes grew dizzy.

What powerful hope this was.

Qiao Minghua fell to his knees with a thud, unable to hold back his tears.

These days he had been crying more and more frequently, as if trying to pour out all the tears he had accumulated over twenty-plus years.

Hearing the commotion from the military medical camp behind them, the three officers couldn’t help but shake their heads.

“Look at these people. It’s just a squad leader position, and a nominal one at that, yet they’re acting like they’ve become generals. Really pathetic,” one of them mocked.

“Not bad though. Since he’s become a squad leader, he can continue to be promoted in the future. Now he’s a company commander, maybe a centurion someday,” another said.

Exactly—it wasn’t about what this position was, but about the precedent. It was like a small opening had been made in a wall. Though it wasn’t a door, once an opening was made, as more people passed through, it would eventually become a door.

The two nodded.

“Really can’t understand why these fellows got promoted. They supposedly have merit, but why don’t we see any rewards for us?” the first officer said, touching his face in dissatisfaction.

The other two immediately stopped him.

“Stop talking nonsense! The superiors have their own judgment. It’s not your place to babble!”

Though crude, the officer knew what could and couldn’t be said, so he fell silent. The three looked back at the military medical camp once more, still able to hear the excitement from within.

Still, this was truly baffling!

They shook their heads and pursed their lips.

Qi Yue and the others had already decided that Zhang Tong would lead fifteen disciples to the frontier to train military physicians in various locations. There was still much preparation work to be done before departure.

The medicines from Yongqing Prefecture could no longer keep up with supply, so Hu San suggested directly establishing a pharmaceutical factory in the capital to produce all medical supplies including gauze, stretchers, protective gear, surgical instruments, and more.

This was a major project, naturally handled by Hu San, the grand manager.

“Is there enough money?” Qi Yue asked—this was her concern.

“Enough,” Hu San said with a beaming smile. “I’ll negotiate with the Ministry of War. We’re supplying them, after all. They should at least pay an advance deposit.”

He carefully shook a piece of paper in his hand.

This was a copied version of the Emperor’s edict, functioning like an imperial sword—wherever it went, ghosts and spirits would make way.

Hu San felt that this was the pinnacle of his life. Remembering how he used to feel so proud when chased and flattered by craftsmen in Yongqing Prefecture, he truly despised that mindset.

What was that compared to this? Dealing with a bunch of craftsmen—look at now. He was dealing with government officials.

Amid Qianjin Hall’s bustling activities, plus Zhou Maochun’s appointment as Medical Director of the Imperial Medical Academy, this matter of impeaching physicians due to military affairs could be said to have settled, at least from observers’ perspectives.

New officials bring new policies. On Zhou Maochun’s first day in office, he issued a strange rule: anyone requesting imperial physician consultations must first inform him.

This statement once again caused astonishment.

What if Zhou Maochun couldn’t be found when needed? After all, no one could predict when they might need an imperial physician. Saving lives was like fighting fires—there was no time for delays. Such concerns naturally arose, but Zhou Maochun’s attitude was excellent. He said there was no need to worry, as he would make the Imperial Medical Academy his home, staying there day and night for eating, drinking, and sleeping, guaranteeing he could always be found.

Once Zhou Maochun said this, no one dared say anything more. Everyone understood what he intended to do.

This matter wasn’t over—it was just beginning.

Those who could summon imperial physicians were naturally the capital’s powerful figures: censors, various ministry officials, especially those who had previously impeached Zhou Maochun. They were all crying bitter tears in their hearts.

Who would have thought this old man would emerge unscathed and even drive away the Medical Director to seize control of the Imperial Medical Academy?

So this was where he had been waiting for them.

They dared not boast that no one in their households would ever fall ill—probably no one in the world would dare make such a claim.

Zhou Maochun didn’t dare prevent imperial physicians from treating them, but verbal mockery was inevitable. When begging at someone’s door, one’s attitude naturally couldn’t be the same as when impeaching them.

Thinking of this, these people’s hearts grew cold, especially the older ones, who regretted their actions so much they tugged at their beards at home.

One shouldn’t offend anyone, but especially not physicians! This was different from others—with others, you could at worst have a complete falling out and never see each other again. But physicians were different, especially for those who had worked so hard to reach their current positions and hoped to enjoy a few more years. They couldn’t do without these life-saving doctors.

Zhou Maochun didn’t care how these people regretted their actions. He indeed moved into the Imperial Medical Academy, never leaving, waiting with gritted teeth.

“The Emperor summoned me?”

Qi Yue, busy to the point of exhaustion, had to put down her brush upon hearing the news.

“What’s the matter?” she couldn’t help but ask the arriving eunuch.

If someone else had asked, they would probably only get an eye roll from the eunuch, but perhaps the effect of that generous five thousand taels hadn’t worn off yet—the eunuch before her shook his head with a smile.

“It must be something, and something good,” Chen Shi said with a smile, sitting in her chair watching her.

Qi Yue smiled too and agreed.

Chen Shi lifted her tea, watching Qi Yue leave. This time she didn’t escort her to the door.

Qi Yue stepped out and looked back.

“A’Ru, go invite the old master,” she said quietly, pointing to the room. “Have him check Madam’s pulse.”

A’Ru was stunned but asked nothing, simply agreeing and leaving.

“Is Madam ill?” A’Hao, who had overheard, asked in confusion. “Her complexion looks fine.”

Qi Yue shook her head.

Her complexion did look the same as before, but upon closer inspection, it was still different.

Meeting the Emperor was still in the same room as last time, with stacks of memorials piled in front of him as before.

When she entered, Li Tong was carrying in more documents.

“That thing you submitted through the Imperial Medical Academy…” the Emperor said, flipping through the memorials beside him. “About selecting soldiers who recovered from battlefields without disabilities and can read for battlefield first aid training—I’ve reviewed it.”

“This humble woman’s crude words,” Qi Yue quickly kowtowed.

The Emperor laughed.

“Crude or not, I don’t care or mind. I told you, I only look at results,” he said, tossing the memorial down.

This meant approval. Qi Yue kowtowed again in gratitude.

The room fell somewhat silent.

“You can’t enter the Imperial Medical Academy. Why not come to the palace as a female official?” the Emperor suddenly said.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s grace,” Qi Yue quickly said. “But this humble woman dares not.”

The Emperor said nothing.

Qi Yue knew this meant she should continue.

“This humble woman’s medical skills are actually not good,” she said after consideration.

The Emperor laughed.

“Is this modesty or are you negotiating conditions with me?” he asked. “Don’t they all say you’re a divine physician?”

“Your Majesty,” Qi Yue looked up and couldn’t help but smile.

The Emperor looked at her without averting his gaze, also smiling as he listened to her speak.

“…They say I’m a divine physician, but actually they’re referring to my methods of treatment. People haven’t seen them before, so they appear miraculous. It’s not that my medical skills are particularly good,” Qi Yue said.

“What’s the difference?” the Emperor asked with an ambiguous smile.

No difference?

Qi Yue looked at him. Was this Emperor too clever? He could hear double meanings in every sentence!

“Alright, I understand,” the Emperor looked away and sat up straight. “Go handle your face-saving matters first. We’ll discuss this later.”

Qi Yue could only agree and bow in acknowledgment.

The woman’s figure disappeared in the hall, and the Emperor sat motionless.

The soft footsteps didn’t interrupt his reverie.

Cai Zhong gently placed a cup of tea nearby.

“Look at me,” the Emperor suddenly said.

Cai Zhong was stunned.

“I told you to look at me,” the Emperor said with some impatience.

Only then did Cai Zhong confirm the Emperor wasn’t talking in his sleep. He quickly raised his eyes and glanced at the Emperor.

“Is this what you call looking?” the Emperor frowned.

Cai Zhong quickly said he was foolish, then raised his eyes to quickly glance at the Emperor again.

“You don’t look good at all,” the Emperor said, waving his hand.

Cai Zhong was somewhat amused despite himself.

What did he mean by “not looking good”?

Of course he didn’t look good. What was attractive about a man, especially one who wasn’t really a man anymore?

What was His Majesty thinking?

Seeing the Emperor pick up nearby memorials and begin reading again, he dared not speak and quietly withdrew.

The room returned to silence.

The Emperor put down the memorials again.

So being looked at directly could be this pleasant…

He smiled slightly and lowered his head to continue reading memorials.

Meanwhile, Qi Yue emerged with the memorial and encountered Li Tong coming from the corridor.

“Should I take this directly or give it to you?” Qi Yue quickly asked in a low voice.

Li Tong looked at the memorial in her hand, slightly stunned.

“This—give it to me. It needs to be returned to the Imperial Medical Academy,” he said.

Qi Yue was stunned. It wasn’t for her? Perhaps the Emperor had just wanted her to look at it.

“Oh dear, I brought it out without knowing,” she said.

“No problem, no problem,” Li Tong said. “Miss, you’ve brought out the finished one for me. I was about to retrieve it.”

Qi Yue smiled and handed it to him.

“Miss Qi, Young Master Fan and I are treating Lord to dinner. Now that matters have finally settled, we’re formally welcoming Lord. Please join us, Miss Qi,” Li Tong said.

Qi Yue nodded.

Only then did the two leave. Upon exiting the palace gates, besides the waiting A’Hao and guards, there was one more person.

Chang Yuncheng extended his hand. A smile bloomed on Qi Yue’s face as she walked quickly forward and placed her hand in his.