The hospital in Taishan County was no match for the large hospitals in Shun Cheng. Its medical facilities were all quite outdated. When the doctor saw Yan Qing’s leg wound, he shook his head with a troubled expression. “A laceration this long — it will need stitches. But we’ve just run out of anesthetic…”

“No anesthetic needed.” Yan Qing’s tone was calm. “Stitch it directly.”

Shi Ting’s brow furrowed slightly. “Stitch it directly?”

“It’s fine. I have no sensation in these legs. Even without anesthetic I won’t feel any pain.” Yan Qing smiled, something like a ripple of clear water passing through her eyes. “We’ll save the cost of the anesthetic, too.”

It took something, being able to make light of her own legs like that — but her deliberate ease of manner pressed down on something in Shi Ting that he found difficult to name.

While the doctor stitched Yan Qing’s wound, Shi Ting stood to one side. Only when he saw that she truly showed no sign of pain did he let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Your legs… how did they come to be like this?” Perhaps it was the excessive quiet in the room, or perhaps he wanted to give her something to focus on — either way, Shi Ting’s voice drifted out slowly.

“I fell ill as a child. Once I recovered, my legs began to lose all feeling. My father sought out many doctors, but none could cure it. Everyone said it was beyond treatment.” Yan Qing’s tone was light and unbothered — because as far as she was concerned, this life had been borrowed to begin with. How much more so a pair of legs.

This equanimity of hers — this quiet acceptance of everything — left Shi Ting at a loss for words. He found, looking at this girl, that she seemed to have no need for comfort or pity from anyone at all.

Once the wound was stitched, Bai Jin arrived, bringing Yan Qing’s wheelchair with him.

“Your maids and your cousin are both fine — I’ve already had someone escort them back.” Bai Jin patted the wheelchair beside him. “This thing lost a wheel when it fell, but I’ve fixed it up — I guarantee it’s sturdier than it was before.”

Yan Qing looked toward both of them with genuine gratitude. “Thank you both so much for today.”

Bai Jin grinned and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t mention it — you’ve helped us before too, haven’t you?”

“Then… could I ask one more favor?” Yan Qing said, a little awkwardly, gesturing toward the wheelchair. She was still sitting on the doctor’s stool.

Bai Jin was just about to step forward when someone beat him to it — and with what seemed like well-practiced familiarity, lifted Yan Qing and set her steadily into the wheelchair.

Bai Jin: “…”

At this point the doctor dried his hands and wrote out a prescription listing several medicines for internal and external use. “Who’s going to pay and collect the medicine?”

“I’ll take it.” Shi Ting accepted the prescription and walked out.

Bai Jin quickly fell into step behind him. “Seventh Brother, let me go.”

“No need.” Shi Ting folded the prescription.

“Seventh Brother.” Bai Jin sidled up with a grin. “This wouldn’t happen to be your first time carrying a girl, would it?”

The answer he received was a glacial stare from Shi Ting, loaded with warning.

Bai Jin shrugged. In the interest of not getting hit, he quickly took a step back — and though he couldn’t see Shi Ting’s face, he noticed that the tips of his ears had taken on a suspicious shade of red.

Medicine collected and the doctor’s instructions heard, Shi Ting escorted Yan Qing back to the Wen residence.

Today had been entirely unexpected, and Yan Qing felt a sincere gratitude toward Shi Ting. It was that gratitude, perhaps, that made her extend a polite invitation almost before she knew she was doing it: “Director Shi, please come in for some tea.”

“Alright.” Shi Ting agreed without a moment’s hesitation — which left Yan Qing utterly dumbfounded.

She — she had only been being polite.

“Why are you standing there? Didn’t you just invite me in for tea?” Shi Ting looked, if anything, mildly puzzled.

—