The woman in black went around the back mountain once more, but still found nothing she could draw blood from.

Before dawn, she returned to her own room, changed into a maid’s clothing, and hurried out in a rush.

Before long, the woman appeared in the kitchen of the Yue household.

If nothing living could be found in the back mountain, the kitchen would surely have something.

In the morning, the head cook was in the kitchen with several others, busy at work.

The maid walked into the kitchen as if it were her own home, without the slightest hesitation.

The head cook looked at Xiaotao and asked with a smile, “Xiaotao, why have you come?”

“My young mistress isn’t feeling well. I wanted to stew a chicken for her,” Xiaotao replied softly.

“Chicken, we have plenty.” The head cook waved her over. “Come pick one out—we prepared quite a few today.”

Xiaotao glanced ahead and shook her head. “I want to do it myself. Are there any live chickens?”

“Of course there are.” The head cook nodded. “Come, I’ll take you to choose one.”

“All right, thank you!” Xiaotao nodded and followed the head cook.

“Xiaotao, what’s wrong with Miss Yang? Is she all right?” a servant boy asked.

“She’s fine,” Xiaotao replied softly.

“I heard that Miss Yang has been using her own blood as a medicinal catalyst to treat the old master—is that really true?” another servant boy asked, also looking at Xiaotao as she walked in.

“No wonder I’ve always thought Miss Yang’s complexion looked so poor—turns out she’s been sacrificing herself for the old master’s treatment all along.”

Xiaotao looked at the servant boy who’d asked, pressed her lips together with a faint smile, and didn’t respond directly.

“Xiaotao, pick the best chicken for Miss Yang, so she can build up her strength,” the last servant boy said, also smiling at Xiaotao.

“All right.” Xiaotao nodded politely.

Xiaotao followed the head cook out through the back door of the kitchen.

Outside was a small courtyard, surrounded by cages. Inside the cages were poultry—not large in number, but quite varied in kind.

Seeing living creatures again put Xiaotao somewhat at ease.

“Head cook, I’ll choose myself—go on and attend to your business.”

“All right, take your time choosing.” The head cook waved a hand.

“Miss Yang has done so much for the Yue family. The master has instructed that whatever Miss Yang wants to eat, we must prepare for her.”

“Xiaotao, go ahead and choose. Once you’ve picked one, I’ll help you slaughter it.”

“No need.” Xiaotao shook her head sharply.

She swallowed and turned to meet the head cook’s gaze, giving a faint smile.

“Head cook, really, there’s no need. I have free time today—I want to prepare it for my young mistress with my own hands.”

“That works too.” The head cook waved a hand. “Xiaotao, then I won’t disturb you—take your time choosing.”

“All right.” Xiaotao nodded.

The head cook gave her a parting smile, turned, and hurried back into the kitchen.

Xiaotao glanced around and her gaze settled on the coop of chickens.

Before long, clucking sounds rang out in the small courtyard.

Xiaotao set the bound chicken on the wooden table.

She took out a small box from inside her robe, along with a small bottle of medicinal powder.

Xiaotao poured a bit of the powder into the box, set the small bottle aside, then picked the chicken back up.

The clucking sounded again, the chicken crying out a few more times before falling silent.

Xiaotao let the blood spurting from the chicken’s slit neck fill the entire box, then tossed the dead chicken aside.

She closed the box, wiped the area clean with a black cloth, wrapped the box up, and tucked it into her sleeve.

Xiaotao had no idea, as she carried the dead chicken back into the kitchen, that two tall figures stood in the tree outside the courtyard—one on each side.

…

“Something’s wrong, Master Yue, something’s wrong.” Past noon, Xiaotao changed her clothes and rushed out of the side chamber. “Someone, come! Something’s wrong!”

Not far off, a servant boy at work heard her and hurried over.

“Xiaotao, what’s wrong? Has something happened to Miss Yang?”

“My young mistress has fainted. Brother, please go inform Master Yue—my mistress has collapsed!” Xiaotao called out urgently.

“All right, I’ll go right now.” The servant boy dropped those words and vanished in an instant.

Soon, Yue Jianfei appeared in Yang Hong’s room.

Also arriving were Tang Xiaohua, Feng Jiu’er, and Xiao Yingtao.

Yang Hong, thinking only Yue Jianfei had come, opened her eyes on the bed.

Xiaotao stood guard at her side, nearly in tears with worry. “Miss, you’ve finally woken up. Miss, are you all right?”

Yang Hong rolled her eyes, and when her gaze drifted outward, she realized people she disliked had also entered.

“Master… Yue.” Her face was pale as paper, her breath very weak.

But she still tried to push through, wanting to pay her respects to Yue Jianfei.

“Miss, don’t move. You’ve only just woken up—you mustn’t move.” Xiaotao held her tightly, not letting her get up.

Yue Jianfei stopped some distance from the bed. “What happened?”

As Xiaotao looked up, she frowned slightly.

Normally, when Yue Jianfei saw Yang Hong unwell, he would come straight to her side, asking after her with concern. Today, he felt somewhat like a stranger.

But Xiaotao didn’t dwell on it much, after all, there were outsiders present.

“Master.” She looked at Yue Jianfei, sobbing. “Yesterday, Miss listened to what Miss Long said and finally decided to use her own heart’s blood.”

“Miss, she…” Xiaotao withdrew her gaze from Yue Jianfei and looked at Yang Hong. “Miss, how could you be so foolish? Do you not care about your own life?”

“Heart’s blood?” Feng Jiu’er frowned slightly. “Dr. Yang didn’t really take her own heart’s blood, did she?”

“How did you draw it? You took your heart’s blood and you’re still not dead—Dr. Yang must really be a divine physician. How did you manage it? Show me, how did you do it?”

While the two on the bed wept and wailed, looking as if they were on the verge of death, Feng Jiu’er, for her part, had her attention entirely elsewhere, nowhere near anyone’s life or death.

As soon as she finished speaking, she stepped forward, drawing closer to the two by the bed.

“Dr. Yang, I had a bit too much to drink yesterday morning and was talking nonsense. Setting aside taking heart’s blood, I’ve never even heard of using blood as a medicinal catalyst to save someone.”

“So it turns out there really is such a method—no wonder you’re the most skilled physician in Yuecheng.”

“But none of that matters. I really want to learn—how exactly did you draw the heart’s blood?”

“I remember my master once said that of ten people who take their heart’s blood, not even one survives. Dr. Yang, you not only drew your own blood but survived—truly miraculous!”

Before Yang Hong and Xiaotao could react, Feng Jiu’er had already arrived at the bedside.

“Dr. Yang, how did you draw your own blood? Is the wound large? Could you show me?”

“I mean no harm—I just want to learn from you, Dr. Yang.”

“You know, a divine physician like you doesn’t come along very often. I really don’t want to miss such a good opportunity.”

Feng Jiu’er reached the bedside, looking down at the two seated on the bed.

“Dr. Yang, please, would you let me have a look?”