The next day, when Song Fengsui woke, the sun outside was already streaming brightly into the room, making everything inside brilliantly lit.
Even the bed curtains couldn't block out the light. His head clouded and heavy, he pushed aside a corner of the curtain, but the glare stung his eyes and he quickly shut them again.
“Young master, you're awake.”
An Ge'er carried some tea and water into the room, happening to notice the swaying bed curtains.
“What time is it now?”
Song Fengsui sat up slowly.
An Ge'er parted the curtains and hooked them aside, saying, “It's nearly noon. You were sleeping so soundly, so this servant didn't wake you earlier. But if you still hadn't stirred by midday, I would have had to—after all, you barely ate anything last night, skipped breakfast this morning, and if you went without lunch too, I wouldn't know how to explain it to Master Duan when he returns.”
Song Fengsui's head ached and throbbed. He hadn't slept a wink all night, and though he'd finally managed some rest this morning, it had been filled with nothing but terrifying dreams.
At the mention of Duan Yan, he immediately asked, “Has he returned?”
“Not yet. Master Gou San said our master went to the countryside on business and got caught in heavy rain last night, so he couldn't make it back. The matter couldn't be finished either, so it's been postponed to this morning—he still hasn't returned.”
Song Fengsui frowned. He knew very well that Duan Yan had actually gone to the city, not the countryside.
He also knew that given the distance, Duan Yan wouldn't be back so soon—best case, late tonight, though it could easily be tomorrow or the day after.
“Mm.”
Song Fengsui acknowledged without exposing the lie, then got up, washed, and had a meal.
After noon, a physician came to change the dressing on his wound and take his pulse again. The physician said his body was still weak, but at least no new ailments had arisen.
Song Fengsui was well aware of his own condition, but he took the opportunity to ask the physician about the epidemic raging outside.
The female physician told him, “It's spreading more fiercely. I hear even Xiaoyue Village has people infected now. The officials have summoned all the male doctors in the city to work on a remedy—they've been at it a full day and night, and not a single one has returned.”
“You should rest and recover well, young master. I won't stay and chat—there are no other doctors left in town, and the common folk are sick and desperate for someone to see them. I'm the only one who can still run around. I'm usually the least busy of them all, but now I still have six or seven more households waiting for me after this.”
Song Fengsui realized the authorities had only commandeered the male physicians to devise a treatment, looking down on female ones, which left the townspeople with at least one available doctor for ordinary ailments.
He didn't keep the physician long and had An Ge'er see her out properly.
Song Fengsui felt restless after hearing about the outside situation. He wanted to start processing the medicinal herbs Duan Yan had already purchased and also prepare some preventive remedies for the epidemic, but he didn't know where Duan Yan had stored them.
So he left his room, intending to find Gou San'er and ask. He'd only just reached the outer courtyard when he saw a figure with heavy, dragging steps enter the residence.
“You...”
Song Fengsui stared at the man in the courtyard. The hem of his robes hung damp and limp around his waist, and even from a distance, a damp, humid smell wafted over. His clothes were caked with mud mixed with moss, looking rather disheveled.
His hair, tied up high, had come loose in stray strands here and there. If not for the bright daylight overhead, he would truly have looked like some massive water ghost crawling half-dry out of a lake.
Seeing him in such a state, Song Fengsui was stunned for a moment.
Duan Yan looked at Song Fengsui, steadying his swaying frame. He pulled a wrapped medicine packet from his chest, giving it a brief squeeze—the oiled paper kept it dry, protected as it had been all the way.
“Take a look—see if this is the herb you needed.”
When he spoke, his voice came out hoarse and rasping, like an old, worn-out door hinge.
Song Fengsui took the packet in a daze, not even bothering to examine the herbs, and instead asked Duan Yan, “How did you get back so fast?! And why... why do you look like this...”
Duan Yan knew he probably looked a complete mess. A few short sentences wouldn't be enough to fob him off, so he fell back on the story he'd already given Gou San'er, fabricating as he went: “I asked around a few households, and eventually found one that had the herbs in stock. On the way to pick them up, the country road was slippery from the rain, and I took a fall. If it hadn't been for the heavy rain, last night I would have—”
“I know you went to the county town!”
Before Duan Yan could finish, Song Fengsui cut him off, directly dismantling his lie.
Duan Yan's mouth twitched with awkwardness, unsure how to keep spinning it. “That Gou San'er and his big mouth...”
“He didn't tell me deliberately. I figured it out myself.”
Song Fengsui, recalling what he'd heard the night before, now looked at Duan Yan with a somewhat different heart than before.
Combined with what Gou San'er had said—about how Duan Yan would rather dig out his own heart than let Song Fengsui bear any burden, hiding it all for fear of weighing on him—and now seeing Duan Yan in such a sorry state, still making light of it all, Song Fengsui felt it all the more keenly.
Song Fengsui's heart churned with unease. “Even the swiftest horse from the city couldn't have made such speed, especially with the driving wind and rain from yesterday. Were you so certain I could prepare the cure for the epidemic? If you'd told me the herbs weren't easy to find out there, I wouldn't have pushed you to get them so urgently.”
Duan Yan thought to himself: since he'd successfully bought and brought back the herbs, there was nothing worth mentioning about the rain that had made it impossible to keep his eyes open, the wind that threatened to tear him from the saddle, or the sleepless night of hard riding.
So he cleared his husky throat and said lightly, “I took the back roads, not the main highway—shorter route, quicker round trip.”
Unexpectedly, this only made Song Fengsui's tone more urgent: “The main highway is already treacherous enough—how much more winding and dangerous are those country paths? In weather like yesterday's, you must have been out of your mind!”
Duan Yan was struck speechless. The more he tried to hide it, the less he could explain.
He was doing an honest thing, yet it had him feeling faintly guilty. The more he said, the worse it got, so he decided to drop the matter entirely and instead steer Song Fengsui toward what he cared most about: “Go on, check the medicine. That's what matters. Now that all the herbs are gathered, we shouldn't waste any more time.”
If this young man kept pressing him with questions, he'd just claim he was tired from the journey and needed to rest.
Though “tired” wasn't entirely an excuse. He was soaked through, and even after riding hard back, he hadn't managed to fully dry off. He'd sweated plenty, but the rain had washed him clean enough not to stink.
Still, being wrapped in damp clothes wasn't comfortable. And with that violent rainstorm and night ride, he'd pushed the horse to a gallop, his heart racing faster than normal, feeling like his veins might burst. His head had spun on the road, and once he'd been thrown from the horse into a bramble thicket taller than a man, taking real effort to drag himself back up.
Luckily, the horse had been well-trained and hadn't bolted off, or it would've been a real problem.
Back in his old days, he'd trained through heavy rainstorms all the time—not just riding but even running on foot, and he'd never had these troubling symptoms before.
Even in this new body, the original owner had been a blacksmith—physically sturdy, not someone who ought to be this fragile.
Duan Yan dragged his body along, managing to return in one piece purely on sheer willpower.
Song Fengsui, seeing that Duan Yan refused to answer his questions properly and knowing how stubborn he was, looked at the man's current state and ultimately didn't push the matter further.
He grabbed Duan Yan's arm without a second thought, extending two fingers to feel his pulse.
The man had been rushing through the rainy night, and his hair and clothes were disheveled from the hurried return. Beyond that, his face was tinged with a sallow, heavy darkness, his lips almost drained of color.
Duan Yan, taken aback by the unexpected touch, recoiled as if struck by lightning.
Though it was an instinctive reaction, facing Song Fengsui, he hadn't used any force. But for Song Fengsui, whose constitution was fragile to begin with, it was already like a gust of a tiger's strength—the sudden withdrawal made the man stumble back a step.
Song Fengsui steadied himself and cast a bewildered look at Duan Yan. Was touching him once really that embarrassing?!
Though being touched by someone you admired could naturally stir a flutter of feelings, this tall, brawny man was acting more bashful than a pale-faced scholar, his skin even thinner-skinned than that.
Song Fengsui, who had been perfectly straightforward until then, found himself a bit unsettled by the other man's demeanor.
He pursed his lips, eyes lowering slightly: "At a time like this, you're still thinking of such nonsense? Do you realize how awful you look right now? Let me take your pulse."
Duan Yan froze for a moment, then quickly realized he had misread the man's good intentions. Knowing Song Fengsui's temperament, he must harbor nothing but disgust for this place, so why would he ever initiate contact without reason?
He gave a dry cough: "It's fine. I'll have Gou San'er go fetch a doctor later."
Song Fengsui frowned at that: "All the doctors in town have already been summoned by the garrison officer. Are you asking Gou San'er to plead with the authorities? Or is it that you don't trust my medical skills?"
"It's not that... I just thought, since your body hasn't fully recovered, you shouldn't overexert yourself..."
"Even if I'm frail and sickly, I'm still in better shape than you right now."
Before Duan Yan could finish his sentence, Song Fengsui grabbed his wrist again and pressed his fingers to the pulse point.
This time, Duan Yan made no further move, only standing stiffly as the man took his pulse.
Song Fengsui had a slender, elegant frame, but standing before Duan Yan, he barely reached the man's throat. Up close, he could clearly make out every detail of that undeniably handsome face.
Yet no romantic thought crossed Duan Yan's mind. He didn't even have time to politely avert his gaze from Song Fengsui's cheek before he saw those two slender, arched brows gradually knit together. After a moment, Song Fengsui looked up at him with a complicated expression.
Duan Yan could finally appreciate the pressure one feels when seeing a traditional Chinese doctor. He was about to ask how he was doing when Gou San'er, who had stepped out earlier, happened to return just then.
Seeing Duan Yan already back at the residence, Gou San'er was startled and was about to ask how he'd returned so quickly, but then caught sight of Song Fengsui's hand resting on Duan Yan's wrist.
The quick-witted fellow knew better than to let his mouth outpace his brain. He hunched his back and tiptoed, preparing to retreat to the gatehouse.
Song Fengsui, facing the main entrance, spotted the clever little rascal right away.
He made no further explanation, withdrew his hand, his brows knit into a tight knot, and said in a stern tone to Gou San'er: "Have Madam Li boil some hot water and send it to Master Duan's room. He's tired and needs to rest. Also, go find me a set of silver needles—I need them to prepare and adjust a prescription."
Gou San'er immediately straightened up. Duan Yan turned around and also saw him, but before Duan Yan could nod or voice an opinion, Gou San'er figured that on such matters, following the other master's orders was just as good. He acknowledged Song Fengsui's instructions and hurried off to carry them out.
Duan Yan didn't fuss over it either. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Song Fengsui's grave expression with a sinking feeling: "What's wrong with me?"
Once Song Fengsui saw that Gou San'er was far enough away, he lowered his voice: "Your pulse is erratic. Taken at face value, it would seem to be from long-distance travel causing your qi and blood to surge. A bowl of ginger soup to ward off the cold, followed by a good day's rest, and you'd be fine."
Most doctors, factoring in Duan Yan's physique and reading just the pulse, would likely conclude the same.
But Song Fengsui, though young, had read through countless medical records, and his experience rivaled that of doctors several decades older.
The moment he felt Duan Yan's pulse, a past incident surfaced in his mind: "When I was young, I studied medicine in Jiangnan with my grandfather. There was once an incident at one of the clinics beneath us.
At the time, a married woman came for a consultation, saying she felt dizzy after exertion, that her qi and blood surged and her vision went black before her eyes. The doctor looked at her pulse, and it was just like yours—the same kind of pulse after excessive strain."
"Under normal circumstances, qi and blood surging from overwork is a common symptom, so the doctor wasn't particularly cautious. He simply prescribed two calming remedies and let her go. But who would have thought that within a few days, that woman would drop dead while working. Her husband was grief-stricken and angrily stormed the clinic, demanding compensation."
Song Fengsui had been young then, but the memory was vivid. The matter had caused quite an uproar, to the point that even his grandfather had gotten involved.
"Do you know how it was eventually settled?"
Duan Yan said: "A hefty sum of money?"
Song Fengsui shook his head: "It was my grandfather who went to the authorities to examine the body. He deduced that the woman had actually died from poisoning. The authorities investigated thoroughly afterward and discovered that her husband, dissatisfied with her overbearing nature and having an affair on the side, feared she would find out. So he slipped poison into her daily meals. Over the course of years, it built up until she died of toxicity.
The poison was mild, and the daily dosage was small. Unless someone was extremely well-versed in pharmacology, it was nearly impossible to detect. But if taken continuously over time, even the strongest constitution would break down as the poison accumulated in the body.
When one labors, drinks, or engages in intimacy, the qi and blood surge more strongly than usual, and sudden death becomes highly likely. Unless investigated carefully afterward, one would never know it was poisoning."
A taut string pulled taut within Duan Yan's mind, and the shadow of suspicion gradually began to take shape. He said: "You mean I could be in the same situation?"
"My grandfather showed me the medical records. I do find one or two similarities in your pulse pattern, but I can't be certain just from the pulse alone. That's why I asked Gou San'er to find silver needles. Later, I'll quietly examine you with acupuncture, and then we'll know for sure."
Song Fengsui then asked him:
"Have you noticed any abnormalities in your body recently?"
In the original owner's hazy memories, there had been no observation of any changes in his body, but judging by Duan Yan's overall experience, something did indeed feel seriously wrong.
He'd felt it off since his very first day—like those times he'd gotten a nosebleed around Song Fengsui, or the inexplicable bouts of excitement and surging heat. It was just that he was too embarrassed to mention it, afraid that saying such things would make it seem like he was deliberately flirting.
Moreover, that particular incident was something neither of them likely wanted to revisit.
So Duan Yan said: "I have noticed something, but I'm not sure."
Song Fengsui, hearing this, felt his suspicions growing more solid it seemed. But seeing the weightiness of Duan Yan's expression, he softened his tone: "Don't worry too much. Perhaps I'm just overthinking it. Dizziness can manifest in many ailments. Don't dwell on it. Go back to your room, wash up, rest a bit. Once Gou San'er returns, I'll take another look."
Duan Yan gazed deeply at Song Fengsui, then nodded. This time, it was he who heeded Song Fengsui's words.
