When they saw the boundary marker of the capital, the disciple became extremely excited.

“Master, master, we’ve reached the capital!” he shouted.

This reaction clearly marked him as a country bumpkin. People on the roadside curled their lips.

“Still a long way to go,” someone reminded him.

The disciple smiled sheepishly, but couldn’t help asking the passerby how far it was and inquiring about what the capital was like.

Qiao Minghua looked ahead, his usually wooden expression finally showing slight emotion.

They had arrived.

Soon he would be able to see…

After so many years, he could finally see her again.

“Master, master, let’s hurry,” the disciple had finished chatting with the passerby and called out happily.

Qiao Minghua came back to his senses and grunted. The thin mule had been replaced with a sturdy, healthy little donkey.

Master and disciple mounted up and trotted forward. Hoofbeats came from behind, and the two made way, watching a horse gallop past them.

The rider reined in his horse and looked at them.

It was the man they had met at the relay station!

The disciple immediately noticed the black box tied behind him.

Being on horseback was indeed better—even after going to assist the authorities with a case, he could catch up so quickly.

“Master Yuan,” Qiao Minghua cupped his hands.

Yuan Ziqing nodded.

“You’re entering the capital?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.

What a pointless question…

The disciple was somewhat speechless.

“Yes,” Qiao Minghua said.

Yuan Ziqing looked at him.

Were they going to Qianjin Hall?

He opened his mouth to ask.

“To the Ministry of War,” Qiao Minghua continued.

The Ministry of War…

Yuan Ziqing made a sound of acknowledgment, swallowing the words that had been on his lips.

There were so many physicians in the world—how could he think of her upon meeting just any one…

Yuan Ziqing lowered his head and smiled.

“Is Master Yuan going to the Ministry of Justice?” Qiao Minghua asked, thinking of the fragments he had heard the night before.

“No, the Court of Judicial Review,” Yuan Ziqing said.

Having said this, he cupped his hands in farewell and turned his horse to ride away.

“Really! I thought he was going to invite us to dinner, but he didn’t even say a polite word,” the disciple snorted.

“With no relationship or connection, would you dare go eat if he invited you?” Qiao Minghua said.

The disciple stuck out his tongue.

“Master, let’s hurry too,” he said, a young man filled with excitement and anticipation for such a prosperous place as the capital.

Qiao Minghua nodded and urged his donkey forward.

“Master, should we enter the city first, or should we first go to…” the disciple asked.

Qiao Minghua looked at the road ahead.

Though this was his first time coming, the route he had silently recited countless times in his heart appeared clearly before his eyes.

North of the capital, outside West Ridge, below Five-Li Village, beside the old locust and willow trees—a grave, a temple.

He said nothing and urged his donkey forward.

The disciple also said nothing more, walking silently.

After a while, the disciple suddenly exclaimed.

They had encountered that horse and rider again.

Yuan Ziqing was dismounting to water his horse. Hearing the noise, he turned around, obviously somewhat surprised.

But both sides smiled slightly. Neither spoke.

Qiao Minghua and his disciple didn’t stop and continued forward.

Yuan Ziqing also mounted his horse.

They traveled one behind the other on the road.

“Master, that person is following us,” the disciple couldn’t help turning back to say.

“The road is open to everyone—only you can walk on it?” Qiao Minghua said flatly.

Master’s words were always sharp. The disciple stuck out his tongue and dared not speak further.

They continued walking silently like this until Yuan Ziqing couldn’t bear it anymore.

“The Ministry of War isn’t in this direction,” he said.

“We’re going to see someone first,” Qiao Minghua said, then looked at him. “Is the Court of Judicial Review in this direction?”

Yuan Ziqing shook his head.

“I’m also going to see someone,” he said.

Qiao Minghua made a sound of acknowledgment.

Neither spoke again, traveling one behind the other, but consistently on the same road.

“Who are you going to see?” Yuan Ziqing asked.

Qiao Minghua stopped and looked ahead at the not-too-distant scene. The first thing that caught his eye was indeed two ancient trees.

Just as people from the capital had described, just as he had imagined.

“Her,” he said, pointing.

Yuan Ziqing looked over.

So it really was her…

His guess had been correct—whenever he met a physician, it was indeed related to her.

This woman truly had extensive friendships…

Yuan Ziqing smiled, but it was an ugly smile.

Qi Yueniang, I’ve come to see you.

Step by step, I’ve walked into this capital on my own.

Crying sounds arose.

Yuan Ziqing instinctively raised his hand to cover his mouth, but realized the sound wasn’t from his own loss of composure.

The sound came from in front of the grave.

A man was crying loudly, supported by two young juniors.

Seven or eight people stood behind him, also bowing their heads in tears.

The disciple beside Qiao Minghua exclaimed in surprise.

“It’s Master Zhang!” he couldn’t help tugging at Qiao Minghua’s sleeve. “It’s the Director of the Military Medical Academy! He’s also returned to the capital? He’s actually Lady Qi’s disciple?”

“Master Zhang came from Qianjin Hall,” Qiao Minghua said.

The disciple made a sound of understanding, looking with some reverence at the man who at this moment could hardly be called imposing.

The Military Medical Academy established at Zhangjiakou, one of the nine border fortresses—that was a famous place on the frontier.

Many wounded soldiers who would have become useless had been selected to enter there, learned battlefield emergency medical techniques, not only regaining the opportunity to support their families but also remaining close to the battlefield.

So this Director was also Lady Qi’s disciple.

Seven years guarding the frontier, working tirelessly day and night, training batch after batch of military physicians, treating countless wounded soldiers, rising from commoner to court official, receiving imperial decree to take full charge of military medical affairs—Master Zhang, the legendary figure famous throughout the nine border fortresses, now showed no mysterious bearing, crying like a child.

“Master, why didn’t you keep your word!” he wept, beating his chest and stamping his feet. “Master, I listened to you and accomplished what needed to be done. Why didn’t you keep your word! You said you would protect us, be our support. Why didn’t you do it!”

The disciples here wept along with him. After a good while, they finally stopped.

“Master, look, these are records of the wounded soldiers we’ve treated these past years,” Zhang Tong said, kneeling on the ground.

A disciple beside him brought over a large bundle. Opening it revealed books packed full.

“Master, I’ll burn them for you to see,” Zhang Tong said.

Disciples had already set up a large burning basin. Zhang Tong threw the books in one by one, tears streaming down his face.

Smoke rose thickly in front of the grave.

When Zhang Tong was helped away from the grave, Qiao Minghua had already stepped aside.

“Master Qiao?” Zhang Tong saw him and stopped, his voice hoarse.

His master actually knew Master Zhang? The disciple was both surprised and excited.

Qiao Minghua bowed.

“You’ve also come to the capital?” Zhang Tong asked, seeing him made his nose tingle again.

“Yes, my superior ordered me to deliver some documents,” Qiao Minghua said.

“You’re thoughtful,” Zhang Tong said.

What documents couldn’t be sent through the relay system that required a special trip? The truth was he wanted to see with his own eyes.

Qiao Minghua lowered his head without speaking.

“Come sit at Qianjin Hall,” Zhang Tong said.

Qiao Minghua agreed. Zhang Tong, surrounded by disciples, walked past, then suddenly stopped again.

Qiao Minghua looked up and saw Zhang Tong looking at the man behind him.

“Little… Little Coffin?” Zhang Tong called out in surprise.

Little Coffin?

Qiao Minghua turned to look and saw Master Yuan nodding.

“You—it’s been so many years without news of you. You… you’re now…” Zhang Tong said excitedly.

“I went far away,” Yuan Ziqing said.

“Oh, good, good. You’re now…?” Zhang Tong hesitated, wanting to ask something but feeling it inappropriate.

“I’m still nothing now,” Yuan Ziqing said. “But at least I can freely enter shops to eat and buy things.”

Zhang Tong couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the former “coffin boy” who had been despised and avoided in Yongqing Prefecture.

Qiao Minghua was slightly stunned, looking at Yuan Ziqing.

Nothing?

That couldn’t be right…

He was already being called to the capital by the Court of Judicial Review…

“You go ahead with your business,” Yuan Ziqing said, actively ending the conversation.

“Your personality hasn’t changed,” Zhang Tong said with a smile, nodding. “If you feel like it, come sit at Qianjin Hall.”

Yuan Ziqing nodded but didn’t say he would come or that he wouldn’t.

Zhang Tong cupped his hands and left.

The large group departed noisily, and quiet returned to the grave.

Qiao Minghua looked at Yuan Ziqing, Yuan Ziqing looked at him.

“If you have something to say, you go first,” he said, gesturing politely.

Qiao Minghua looked toward the gravestone.

Of course there would be hope…

I’ll show you what hope looks like…

Qiao Minghua lowered his head and smiled.

Actually, there wasn’t much to see or say.

He sighed and turned to walk away.

The disciple was stunned. He looked at Yuan Ziqing, then at the gravestone—they were just leaving?

Coming all this way, just to take one look and leave? Without even approaching…

“Master, master,” he called, chasing after.

Qiao Minghua had already mounted his donkey and trotted away without looking back. The disciple had to follow.

The two quickly disappeared on the main road.

Yuan Ziqing walked to the grave. The large basin in front of the grave was still smoking. He sat cross-legged on the ground, opened his bundle, and took out two bottles of wine.

“Come, let’s drink,” he said, then tilted his head back and drank from the bottle, actually finishing it in one gulp.

Then he poured the wine in front of him. The wine fell into the burning basin with a sizzling sound, and smoke scattered.

“I’ve come to the capital. Just wait—you’ll soon be able to tell others that I, Yuan Ziqing, assisted you,” he said, looking at the gravestone and smiling.

After smiling, he lowered his head again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “In the end, I made you… wait in vain…”

The smoke dispersed, the sizzling stopped, and the wine scent faded with the wind.

Only then did Yuan Ziqing raise his head, looking at the gravestone.

“Actually, I can’t bear to leave you either,” he said, then smiled, braced his hand on the ground to stand up, and dusted off his hands. “Qi Yueniang, I’m leaving.”

He too rode away without looking back.

Entering the capital gates, prosperity and noise hit him in the face.

Yuan Ziqing felt somewhat dazzled.

“Excuse me, which way to Qianjin Hall medical clinic?” he asked a passerby.

The passerby looked at him.

“Seeking medical treatment?” he said, pointing and giving directions.

Yuan Ziqing thanked him and was about to leave when the man grabbed him again.

“Hey, don’t go there now. Something’s happened at Qianjin Hall,” the man said.

Something happened?

Yuan Ziqing looked surprised.

“Yeah, seems like there was a problem with their medicine. Someone died, and they’re being sued. There’s a commotion,” the passerby said enthusiastically.

Before he finished speaking, the man had already walked away, which made the passerby quite displeased.

Country people really had no manners!

When Yuan Ziqing arrived at Qianjin Hall, he felt as if he had returned to Yongqing Prefecture, except that the capital had many more people than Yongqing Prefecture—he could barely squeeze in.

“…Dong Lin! Your damn old problem is acting up again?” Hu San pointed at the man in imperial physician robes and cursed. “Why should there be a problem with our Qianjin Hall’s medicine? Seal it? Who do you think you are?”

“The fact remains that someone died after taking the medicine, Chief Steward Hu. You should accept the investigation,” Dong Lin said, slowly stroking his beard.

Hu San looked at him with a cold smile.

“Fine, Dong. You actually managed to crawl into the Imperial Medical Academy. Using my master’s name, you’ve gained quite a few benefits, haven’t you?” he said.

Dong Lin also smiled coldly.

“Chief Steward Hu, I dare not accept such words. How would I dare use your master’s name? People merely gave me a chance out of respect for my school,” he said, straightening up. “Since that’s the case, I must be dutiful and diligent, not disgracing my school…”

Before he finished speaking, the crowd stirred, as if many people were shouting in unison.

“Make way! Make way!”

This voice startled the watching crowd into parting.

Yuan Ziqing was almost knocked down by the crowd. When he looked up again, he saw an elderly man striding quickly into Qianjin Hall.

“Master!” Hu San called out joyfully.

“Senior Brother…” Dong Lin also called out, though his expression showed some surprise.

Liu Pucheng’s gaze swept over the officers present.

“Since this involves medicinal matters, let the Imperial Medical Academy handle it,” he said.

The officers looked him up and down, frowning.

“Says who? Who are you? Are you in charge?” the leader snorted.

“Yes, Senior Brother. This matter should…” Dong Lin hurried over to say.

“Shut up!” Liu Pucheng turned and shouted.

This was the first time Dong Lin had seen Liu Pucheng speak so loudly, and he was startled.

“Of course I’m in charge,” Liu Pucheng said, taking a document from his sleeve. “This is my appointment document as Director of the Imperial Medical Academy.”

Hu San was overjoyed to hear this.

“Master, you finally accepted,” he called out, almost weeping with joy.

Since Zhou Maochun had abandoned the Imperial Medical Academy and wandered off to parts unknown, the court had re-selected candidates for the vacant position. Given Liu Pucheng’s status as Medical Officer Meng and his relationship with Lady Qi, many had recommended him, but Liu Pucheng had remained in Yongqing Prefecture without accepting.

“Senior Brother, this is wonderful,” Dong Lin also said, forcing a smile.

“Yes, as the senior disciple, let me handle matters that bring glory to our school,” Liu Pucheng said, looking at him. “You—go back.”

Dong Lin exclaimed, then turned, suddenly thinking of something.

“Senior Brother, go back where?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“Back to your hometown,” Liu Pucheng said.

Dong Lin was shocked.

“Senior Brother, you can’t do this! Senior Brother, I just wanted to help you,” he called out, grabbing Liu Pucheng’s arm with a pitiful expression. “Senior Brother, I did this only to protect our school and your reputation… Senior Brother, please have mercy on me. I don’t want to spend my whole life in that place…”

Liu Pucheng looked at him and shook his head.

“Junior Brother, I used to pity you and indulge you, but now I can’t,” he said, pulling his arm free and waving his hand. “Go.”

Dong Lin was about to say more when Liu Pucheng’s disciples stepped forward, practically carrying him out.

“Master…” Hu San wiped his face with his sleeve and called out.

“You’re a grown man—why are you crying?” Liu Pucheng smiled.

“Master, you’ve finally come,” Hu San said, looking aggrieved.

“Yes, I’ve come. You can rest easy and do your work. Leave everything else to me,” Liu Pucheng said, turning to the officers and extending his hand. “Please have your superior come to the Imperial Medical Academy to discuss this matter. I’ll be waiting at the Imperial Medical Academy.”

Yuan Ziqing turned away from the crowd and walked out. After walking some distance, he looked back—the commotion at Qianjin Hall was dispersing.

“It’s settled!” He clenched his fist, showing a slight smile, then turned and strode away.