When Fangke emerged from his room, it was already past the third quarter of You (酉) hour. The setting sun sank heavily, and the dark, crow-blue silhouette of Cheng Mountain stood against a blood-red sky — solemn and still.

The clinic was empty. Fangke stood there in a daze for a moment before remembering that Lin Sui’an had mentioned in the morning that she was heading to the county office, but to his surprise, she hadn’t returned even after all this time.

No one else had come back either.

Fangke sat behind the counter, idly flicking the abacus beads out of boredom. Since arriving in Cheng County, he had yet to treat a single patient — the ledger was completely blank. He clicked the beads a few times and quickly grew tired of it, turning his gaze to the rain outside.

Qingzhou was a region of abundant rain. The drizzle lingered, soaking everything softly without a sound, slowly gathering on the roof tiles and dripping from the eaves in a rhythmic, tinkling patter. It turned out this clinic was actually quite spacious. A few days prior, thanks to Hua Yitang’s self-suffering scheme, it had been crammed full of townsfolk who came to watch the spectacle, all noise and commotion — back then, he had even thought the main hall was too cramped.

The wind swept in, turning the rain into a hazy mist that dispersed through the room. The floor shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow. Fangke found himself unexpectedly reminded of that ramshackle clinic in Heyue City — it had felt just as quiet, just as lonely as this.

Suddenly, a patter of footsteps came splashing through the rain, and Ita dashed inside, shaking the water droplets off her umbrella. Her head of purely golden hair lit up the dimness. “Dang, in a hurry,” she announced.

That declaration jolted Fangke out of his melancholy in an instant. He frowned. “Don’t pick up the way Hua Yitang talks. It’s not a good habit.”

Ita gave an obedient nod and sighed. “Made tea with Little Fish, sold tea, nobody drinking, hurry, hurry — Little Fish not hurry, I hurry.”

Fangke: “……”

This child was truly too earnest. In order to repay Little Fish for introducing Hua Yitang to Qiu Bo, she had genuinely spent the entire day helping Little Fish sell Hundred-Flower Tea — but from the sounds of it, business had not gone well.

“Did you manage to gather any useful information?”

Ita shook her head. “Nobody drink tea, hurry.”

“Better than me, at least,” Mu Xia said, walking in. The professional smile he usually wore on his face had transformed into the expression of someone thoroughly exhausted in body and soul. “I spent the whole day going door to door, and everything I heard was useless. In Daye Quarter, so-and-so’s dog died. In Zhenze Quarter, so-and-so’s hens stopped laying eggs. In Yunmeng Quarter, so-and-so’s cat ate a dead mouse and inexplicably dropped dead too. To top it all off, someone said their donkey was losing its fur — going bald in the most unsightly way — and asked me to inquire whether Dr. Fang had any secret remedy for growing a donkey’s coat back.”

Fangke and Ita: “……”

“I am by far the most wretched of all!” Jin Ruo trudged in listlessly, grabbed the pastries off the counter, and began stuffing them into his mouth, gulping down plain water in between. “Trudged back and forth all day, east end to west end, north end to south end, tracked down several dozen old men and grandmothers to ask about legends of the Dragon God. Those old folks were really something else — some of them turned pious with fright the moment the Dragon God was mentioned, practically ready to kowtow on the spot. Others clamped up entirely and fled. There were even two short-tempered ones who said I was being disrespectful to the Dragon God and came at me with their walking sticks — lucky I can run fast. I’m starved. Mu Xia, is there anything else to eat?”

Mu Xia sighed and disappeared into the back hall, returning shortly with three more plates of pastries. “Save some for Fourth Master.”

Jin Ruo picked up a whole plate and tipped it straight into his mouth. “Well, at least there was one worthwhile find. I ran into an old man in Dalu Quarter — he’s probably so old he’s going soft in the head, because the moment I asked about the Dragon God, he grabbed hold of me and rambled on and on. Most of it was nonsense, but there was one key line.” Jin Ruo lowered his voice with theatrical mysteriousness. “He said — when he was a child, there was no Dragon God Temple on Cheng Mountain at all.”

Fangke: “How old was that elder?”

Jin Ruo held up two fingers. “Eighty at most.”

Mu Xia: “So the claim that Dragon God Temple has a thousand-year history is false? At most, it was built eighty years ago.”

Fangke: “If the construction history of Dragon God Temple can be fabricated, then all the legends surrounding it could very well be fabricated too.”

Jin Ruo: “Heh, for all we know, even the Dragon God’s divine manifestations are fake.”

Ita: “All fake.”

Everyone exchanged glances, their expressions all carrying a trace of excitement.

Jin Ruo looked around. “Where’s Master? She’ll definitely be happy to hear this.”

Fangke: “Lin Niangzi said she was going to the county office to visit Chief Clerk Zhu —”

Fangke suddenly went silent. His eyes widened, staring fixedly at the doorway as if he’d caught sight of something terrifying. Everyone turned to look — and reacted with equal alarm.

Lin Sui’an was walking slowly toward them from beneath the darkened sky. Behind her bloomed an oil-paper umbrella the color of scorched yellow. It was an ordinary bamboo-ribbed paper umbrella, but she was utterly incapable of holding it with one hand. She had to clamp the handle with both wrists to maintain her balance — because all ten of her fingers were wrapped in several layers of bandages, glaringly white and unsettling to behold.

Jin Ruo was alarmed and quickly went to meet her. “Master, you’re injured?!”

Lin Sui’an smiled ruefully and beckoned Jin Ruo inside — this was no place for shouting so loudly and disturbing the neighbors.

Fangke’s expression darkened considerably. He pulled Lin Sui’an down to sit and swiftly unwrapped the bandages from her hands — moving so fast that Lin Sui’an didn’t even manage to stop him.

At the sight that greeted them, everyone went pale with shock.

Lin Sui’an’s ten fingers were riddled with densely packed needle punctures. Some were deep, drawing blood that had since scabbed over; others were shallow, leaving only tiny red dots.

Fangke: “This — it’s needle wounds? Could it be the needle-finger torture?!”

Jin Ruo exploded on the spot. “What heaven-forsaken bastard dared to torture my Master?! I’ll hack his ancestors back eighteen generations!”

Mu Xia looked about to faint. “Good heavens above — when Fourth Master sees this, he’s going to lose his mind.”

Ita spun in frantic circles. “Blow on it — huff huff, huff huff — won’t hurt as much.”

Lin Sui’an: “Ahem — I accidentally did this to myself.”

Everyone: “……”

Lin Sui’an found it truly mortifying to explain. “I discovered something suspicious about Four-Sides Workshop, so I made an excuse and asked Chief Clerk Zhu’s mother to take me along to work there. My plan was to infiltrate and investigate gradually — but as it turned out, the job at Four-Sides Workshop was embroidery.” Lin Sui’an scratched the side of her head with her knuckles in embarrassment. “I’m not skilled at needlework, and in my eagerness to get results, I was careless for a moment, and it ended up like this……”

Truly too shameful to speak of. She hadn’t managed to embroider a single stitch — and because she couldn’t control the force of her hand, she had destroyed several dozen needles and left the embroidery cloth dotted with bloodstains. The other embroidery women around her had finally been unable to watch any longer. They held her down and bandaged her up to this state. It wasn’t a serious injury by any means. Lin Sui’an had intended to quietly remove the bandages on the way back, but with all ten fingers bound up stiff, she couldn’t even bend them properly. On top of that, the curfew hour was fast approaching with no time to delay — so she could only flee back in this sorry state. Truly, she had no face left to show her homeland.

Mu Xia and Ita exchanged a glance. Jin Ruo gave a thumbs-up. “As the saying goes, the ten fingers are connected to the heart — to endure pain so piercing and not make a sound, Master is truly a hero of the rivers and lakes! Your disciple is in awe!”

Fangke rolled his eyes dramatically. “A few needle holes won’t kill anyone. Why on earth are they bandaged? Waste of good bandaging. Unwrap them and let the air in. Sleep it off and they’ll heal by morning.”

Lin Sui’an laughed awkwardly.

She hadn’t wanted this either. It was those embroidery women who had insisted on dressing her wounds — in retrospect, it was most likely because they were afraid she’d continue wreaking havoc on their needles and fabric.

“Can you two possibly stop making me worry for even a moment? Can you not have even a shred of self-awareness?!” Fangke said furiously. “And Hua Yitang —”

At the mention of that name, Fangke stopped short. Everyone simultaneously felt a jolt.

Lin Sui’an came back to herself. “Hua Yitang hasn’t returned yet?”

Jin Ruo scratched his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Ita: “Me — too.”

Mu Xia was almost in tears. “Oh, Fourth Master —”

Lin Sui’an shot to her feet. “I’ll go check on Xiande Manor.”

“Does Mutang live here?” A booming shout rang out from the street, loud as a thunderclap. Then a tower of a man — built like a pagoda — came ducking and squeezing through the clinic entrance with something slung over his shoulder. “I’m Qiu Laoba from Xiande Manor. I’ve brought him back.”

With that, he swung whatever was on his shoulder and tossed it forward. Lin Sui’an’s pupils contracted sharply. She shot forward and caught the figure steadily with both hands — and sure enough, it was Hua Yitang: covered in mud from head to toe, his complexion ghastly pale, his eyes tightly shut, both arms hanging limply at his sides, like a lifeless white jade porcelain doll.

A surge of murderous energy rolled off Lin Sui’an in waves, her clothes snapping with an audible crack. “What did you do to him?!”

Qiu Laoba stumbled back half a step in fright. “Heaven and earth are my witness — I never laid a hand on him! He fainted all on his own for no apparent reason. I was being a Good Samaritan bringing him back, and you’re not going to try to pin this on me, are you?!”

Fangke pressed two fingers to Hua Yitang’s pulse point and held still for a moment, listening. When he looked up, his expression was indescribable. “No injuries. He’s only fainted —” Hua Yitang’s stomach let out a long, rumbling gurgle. Fangke added: “From hunger.”

“I really had nothing to do with it! I’m leaving!” Qiu Laoba vanished in a flash.

Everyone: “……”

Jin Ruo grabbed a pastry and slapped it against Hua Yitang’s forehead with supreme disdain. “Hua the food bucket, get up and eat!”

Hua Yitang sat cross-legged on a cushion, tearing into a lamb leg with terrifying speed, his eyes glowing green as he ate — lit by the flickering candlelight, more ghostly than actual ghost-fire.

The spread on the table was a lamb leg Mu Xia had prepared at maximum speed using every skill he possessed. The method was simple: give the whole leg a single rinse with clean water, place it in a large iron pot, cover entirely with water, and cook over alternating medium and low heat until done. When the meat was about nine-tenths cooked, add a small amount of salt. Once the meat was tender and falling off the bone, remove and serve — either sliced with a small knife or torn apart by hand — accompanied by imported black pepper and fresh garlic to cut through the gaminess. Simple and straightforwardly delicious: a true “belly-filling centerpiece dish.”

Hua Yitang’s pace was ferocious. The entire roasted leg was reduced to bare bone in no time at all. Jin Ruo sat beside him, swallowing hard. “Surname Hua, slow down — nobody’s fighting you for it.”

Mu Xia’s eyes were glistening with tears as he brought Hua Yitang two more steamed buns. “Look how hungry my Fourth Master is — he’s gotten thin.”

Everyone: “……”

He’d only skipped one meal. Surely not.

Hua Yitang devoured one large roasted lamb leg, ten steamed buns, two bowls of lamb broth, and an additional three plates of pastries, before finally eating his fill. He cleaned his hands with soapwort water, contentedly fanned himself a few times with his little fan, then abruptly sprang to his feet and erupted in a tirade. “Absolute rubbish! A donkey grinding a millstone doesn’t get worked this hard! Doing every odd job imaginable is one thing — but they didn’t even feed people properly! I have never seen such brazen shamelessness in all my days! If this can be endured, what cannot?! Once this case is closed, I will personally lock every last one of them in birdcages, force them to eat nothing but bran and boiled greens day in and day out, and hire people to eat meat right outside the cages until they’re driven mad with envy!”

Fangke rolled his eyes. “Big aspirations.”

Lin Sui’an propped her chin in her hand and pieced together Hua Yitang’s miserable ordeal today: based on Hua Yitang’s description of Xiande Manor, entry by referral alone was not enough — one also had to pass an interview examination. The criteria appeared to be roughly: honest, hardworking, long-suffering, and endurance. Martial arts were not required but would certainly boost one’s prospects.

Lin Sui’an curved her lips and asked, “Hua Yitang, can you embroider?”

Hua Yitang had just vented enough steam to feel somewhat better and was leaning against the armrest to catch his breath. Hearing Lin Sui’an’s question, he blinked in bewilderment. “Hm?”

“No matter if you can’t embroider,” Lin Sui’an said. “Surely sketching embroidery patterns of plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, and chrysanthemums would be effortless for you?”

Hua Yitang immediately preened, snapping his little fan with a pleased click-clack, and tossed Mu Xia a meaningful glance.

Mu Xia stepped forward, straightened his posture, and formally announced: “Fourth Master of the Hua Family is the foremost master of brushwork in Yangdu City. Grass and trees, birds and flowers, figures and landscapes — he excels in all. The best-selling embroidery patterns from Hua Family’s embroidery shop were all drafted by Fourth Master’s hand. Without exaggeration, Fourth Master single-handedly props up half of Hua Embroidery House’s empire.”

Ita gave a big thumbs-up. “Fourth Master draw, very mighty.”

Lin Sui’an clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Hua Yitang — tomorrow we switch. I’ll go to Xiande Manor, and you go to Four-Sides Workshop.”

“Absolutely not!” Hua Yitang grumbled. “Four-Sides Workshop is all women. A dignified seven-foot man like me going to bury himself among a crowd of women — what does that even look like?!”

Mu Xia: “Fourth Master, the bigger picture matters.”

Hua Yitang shook his head furiously, like a rattle-drum. “Not appropriate, not appropriate, not appropriate. At worst I’ll bring extra food tomorrow and storm Xiande Manor again.”

Fangke and Jin Ruo exchanged a glance.

Jin Ruo: “Master, that won’t do. Surname Hua here is so fair-skinned and handsome, so delicate and willowy — if he goes to Four-Sides Workshop, isn’t that sending a lamb straight into a den of tigers? A one-way trip with no return?”

Hua Yitang flew into a rage. “Little Jin Ruo, who exactly are you insulting? I may be a pampered scion, but I’ve sauntered through a sea of flowers without a single petal clinging to me — ahem — my many years of cultivated… self-restraint —”

Fangke: “Hua Yitang makes a fair point. As the undisputed number one playboy of Yangdu, flirting with women and weaseling his way through social niceties is precisely his greatest strength. Surely he couldn’t have sunk so low as to be utterly helpless and useless.”

Hua Yitang: “……That phrasing doesn’t quite sound like —”

Lin Sui’an gave a solemn nod. “Dr. Fang has a point. Hua Yitang — I trust you.”

【Hua Yitang — I trust you.】

【I trust you —】

【Trust you……】

The echoes layered one upon another and drifted into Hua Yitang’s ears, like celestial music clearing his senses. His mind hadn’t even caught up yet, but the word “fine” had already escaped his lips — as if he’d been enchanted by something brilliantly radiant. He drifted for a moment before finally coming back to himself and realized: Lin Sui’an was smiling at him.

That night, as Hua Yitang tossed and turned in bed savoring the moment, he finally had a sudden revelation —

He had fallen for Lin Sui’an’s beauty trap!

Bonus scene:

Lin Sui’an: Hahahaha, Hua Yitang, so even you have a day when you get played like a fiddle! Satisfying!

Mu Xia: Oh no — I forgot to tell Fourth Master that Lin Niangzi’s hands are injured. A terrible oversight!