Truly a stubborn woman, such an unyielding spirit that surpasses even men!

Feng Jiu admired this lady from the bottom of her heart. Whether in the twenty-first century or in this era, this was the first time she had ever seen such a woman.

She used to think Ye Luocha was already a paragon of female strength, but compared to this masked lady, even ten Ye Luochas combined couldn’t match half her formidable spirit.

How could a woman like this possibly be content staying in the harem, as just one of the emperor’s many consorts?

She was absolutely not an ordinary consort of the harem, yet Emperor Qiwen cared for her so deeply! Such a remarkable figure—it truly aroused curiosity.

But Feng Jiu was well aware that in an era and place like this, curiosity alone could be enough to cost one’s life.

So, for now, it was merely curiosity, with no plans to dig deeper.

The group remained in the room like this, the masked lady’s legs still exposed to the air for a long, long time—so long that even this resilient lady nearly fainted from exhaustion.

Finally, after she had exhausted all her strength resisting the pain and itching, that unbearable itch gradually began to fade.

Feng Jiu kept watching her legs the entire time, staying with her through the hardest stretch, watching the swollen, red patches gradually subside, the bloodshot color in her eyes slowly returning to normal. Only then did she let out a deep breath of relief.

The masked lady leaned back against the headboard, panting, seemingly drained of all strength.

“Congratulations, my lady. The hardest part is now behind us.”

There was a flicker of joy in Feng Jiu’s eyes—it was clear her heart had been on edge the whole time, and only now did it finally settle.

Taking out the silver needles, she said, “My lady, I need to apply acupuncture to invigorate the blood and let the last bit of the medicine’s effect run its course.”

No one spoke. Qing Ye and Qing Zhi simply stood by silently—they didn’t understand medicine and naturally couldn’t help.

The masked lady merely watched Feng Jiu quietly, still breathing weakly, lacking even the strength to speak.

Feng Jiu’s needlework was swift and precise, causing no further pain. After the needles went in, her ladyship’s legs swelled slightly again, the pain somewhat greater than before, but compared to earlier, it was truly nothing to fear now.

The masked lady closed her eyes, calming her breathing, and under Feng Jiu’s needles, her legs gradually returned from swollen redness to their normal state.

Once her skin had returned to its fair, smooth state, with no trace of swelling remaining, Feng Jiu put away the silver needles and began massaging her legs.

“Stand guard. Don’t let anyone in,” Qing Ye said in a low voice, watching Feng Jiu’s hands massaging her ladyship’s legs.

“Yes.” Qing Zhi went outside to stand guard at the door, letting no one approach.

Feng Jiu now understood clearly—they had indeed seen through her identity as a woman. Otherwise, how could such an intimate act be tolerated for an ordinary woman?

Her hands rested on her ladyship’s legs. She truly couldn’t guess this lady’s age—judging by her skin and figure, she appeared to be only in her early twenties.

But her bearing, those sharp eyes, her entire aura, clearly suggested she was past thirty.

That was a quality only time could cultivate—too young a girl could never possess it. Even Feng Jiu herself, no matter how calm and composed she tried to appear, seemed clearly too inexperienced standing beside this lady.

After some unknown amount of time, Feng Jiu finally withdrew her hands from her ladyship’s legs and picked up the syringe from before, preparing to administer the needle.

A flicker of resistance passed through Qing Ye’s eyes. “Sir, are you certain this medicine truly works?”

Seeing her mistress’s painful, agonized state tonight had been truly unbearable to witness; she feared this medicine might cause her mistress further suffering.

“Whether it works or not, you may ask her ladyship,” Feng Jiu said, still preparing the medication, her movements unaffected by Qing Ye’s doubt.

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“Mistress…” Qing Ye looked at the lady lying on the bed, eyes closed, regulating her breathing, with a trace of inner conflict.

The masked lady didn’t even dare to lift her eyelids, only saying, “Everything, as the sir says.”

Qing Ye had no choice but to step back and watch Feng Jiu administer the needle and medication to her mistress.

The entire process didn’t take long, but even just the injection took nearly an hour.

Because it involved medicating the meridians rather than injecting into the bloodstream, she had to find the precise position and use the exact dosage, which took considerable time.

By the end of the process, fine beads of sweat covered Feng Jiu’s temples.

Finally, it was done.

With Feng Jiu’s permission, Qing Ye immediately went over to cover her mistress with the blanket, wanting to ask how she felt now. But seeing her mistress’s face regaining a slight rosy color, the earlier paleness having faded considerably, Qing Ye knew her mistress had truly recovered.

Still, regarding the medicine—she watched Feng Jiu, who was tidying up her things to leave, with some lingering uncertainty. “Sir, will my mistress… be like this again?”

If the entire treatment process was going to be this painful each time, how could anyone bear it?

“When the medicine’s effects manifest, there will still be pain, swelling, and itching, but each time it will be milder than the last, until finally the swelling and itching disappear entirely—that’s when the operation can be performed.”

Feng Jiu looked at the masked lady, her voice gentle. “Her ladyship made it through this time, so the rest naturally won’t be a problem either. As long as she rests well, in about a month, this one will be able to proceed with the next stage of treatment.”

The masked lady said nothing. Qing Ye asked, “Then, what should we do for our mistress in the coming days?”

“Following the method I’ve described, massage her ladyship’s legs every morning, noon, and evening, to keep the muscles and meridians active.”

Feng Jiu stood up, about to take her leave, when she heard the masked lady say, “Sir, please stay a moment. I have something to say to you.”

Qing Ye glanced at Feng Jiu, then immediately withdrew outside, joining Qing Zhi to stand guard on either side of the corridor, allowing no one to approach.

Feng Jiu helped the masked lady sit up, noticing the sweat on her face and wanting to wipe it away, but worried she might accidentally dislodge the gauze veil covering her face.

After considering it, she decided against it.

“Not even a bit curious about what I look like?” The masked lady raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I am, but safety comes first,” Feng Jiu said, stepping back, not drawing any closer to her.

Her ladyship stared at her face, then suddenly her gaze darkened. “Who exactly are you?”

Feng Jiu pressed her lips together. The question wasn’t unexpected at all—she had long anticipated it.

“My lady, this one hasn’t asked who you are. Why would you ask me?”

“That’s because I have the right to ask. The gap between our stations and strength is vast—the strong rule here, and you have no right to question me in return.”

Feng Jiu let out a soft breath. This lady’s manner of speaking was direct, giving no consideration to anyone’s pride.

Still, this directness, with no need to dance around the subject, actually made her more likeable.

At the very least, it didn’t provoke resentment.

She lifted her head, meeting her ladyship’s gaze, and said, “This one… is a person already dead.”