Duan Yan, after receiving treatment from Song Fengsui—who had applied acupuncture and let out some poisoned blood—found his head feeling even more faint.
He truly needed a good rest, but before that, he still managed to support himself long enough to instruct Gou San'er to tidy up a small room in the inner courtyard, specifically for Song Fengsui to use as a medicine-making space. He also asked for the medical instruments and supplies that were lacking in the residence to be procured and set up in full.
This poisoning incident and its diagnosis had finally given him a true glimpse of Song Fengsui's medical skill. Though Young Master Song was still young in years, his knowledge of medical theory was remarkably broad.
In a remote, small town like Rock Town, what was lacking was far too much—not just food and medicine, but also talented people. A simple count of physicians and scholars, for instance, could be done on one hand, and even within that number, plenty were mere charlatans pretending to know what they did not.
A person of genuine talent and learning like Song Fengsui would be a terrible waste if left unrecognized. He deserved to be treated with full seriousness.
Setting aside a room exclusively as an apothecary for the physician would make everything far more convenient.
Gou San'er acknowledged the order and went off to handle it, and only then did Duan Yan finally rest.
He had been awake all night without so much as closing his eyes, and after the bloodletting and treatment, the moment he touched the bed, he was out like a light.
Meanwhile, Song Fengsui had not been idle either. Back in his own room, he drafted a prescription based on Duan Yan's condition.
Being prudent by nature, he deliberately mixed the medicines needed for Duan Yan's treatment in among other unrelated herbs, so that no one could decipher that the prescription was meant to treat poison. Only then did he call for Gou San'er, who had been about to head out.
Though the key to curing Duan Yan's poison lay in his acupuncture, it was still essential to combine it with medicinal decoctions for a faster and more stable recovery.
The matter of his poisoning was no small thing, and since it had originally been orchestrated by someone close to him, for now, aside from the two of them, no one else should know of it for safety's sake.
“Your master braved the wind and rain, traveling all night long—his body is pushed to the absolute limit. I’ve just taken a look at him; rest alone won’t be enough. He’ll need to take some medicine too.
If not, evil wind could invade his body, and at this critical juncture, a cold would be uncomfortable in itself—and worse, others outside might mistake it for a plague breaking out, and that would be troublesome.”
Hearing Song Fengsui’s words, a smile surfaced on Gou San'er’s face. It seemed his elder brother’s efforts had not been in vain—look at how Young Master Song, who had once been so cold and aloof, was now even thinking about his well-being.
He quickly said, “What a coincidence—I was just about to head to the apothecary anyway, so I can pick up the medicine along the way.
Before resting, the master gave specific orders to prepare a room for you to use as an apothecary, sir. I need to go buy the medical tools for you, so I’ll have An Ge'er clean out the small room next to yours. That way, you can come and go with ease.”
Song Fengsui felt a subtle stir in his chest upon hearing this. He responded with a soft “Understood. Go on, and come back quickly.”
Gou San'er acknowledged with a chirp and hurried out the door.
He had expected to return within an hour or so, but in the end, he was away for over two hours before making it back to the residence.
The small room had already been cleaned out. Song Fengsui had the medicines Duan Yan commissioned to be bought, along with the few assorted herbs the household had in reserve, all sorted and moved into the apothecary.
Song Fengsui was inside taking inventory when Gou San'er came running back, drenched in sweat.
“This is truly bad! I ran across the whole town at a stretch, but the herbs you asked for, sir, I couldn’t buy them all!”
Song Fengsui’s brows knitted together in surprise. “Those were all the most ordinary, commonplace herbs—doesn’t even the apothecary have those?!”
Gou San'er roughly wiped the sweat from his face. “The news of the plague in the countryside is spreading something fierce—by now, I think everyone knows. Folks are swarming into the shops in droves, hoarding grain and medicine. Even with prices going up, it hasn’t stopped anybody—if anything, the more they rise, the more frantically people buy!”
“I ran through all the apothecaries in town, and even went knocking on doors of people I know, but all I could get were things like big green leaf, patchouli, tsao-ko, and mugwort. Any herb that can clear heat and detoxify has just about been swept clean.”
Song Fengsui quickly checked over what Gou San'er had managed to buy; the ephedra, arborvitae leaf, and Japanese thistle he had specifically set aside for Duan Yan were all missing.
It was one thing that the rare, expensive herbs weren’t available in a small local pharmacy, but he hadn’t expected that in just the blink of an eye, even the most commonly used ones would be gone.
“Are they urgently needed?”
Song Fengsui snapped back to attention at the familiar voice. He looked up and saw that Duan Yan had come over, at some point or another.
With Gou San'er present, he couldn’t speak too plainly, and only said, “The medicine I prescribed for you.”
Duan Yan’s brows tightened slightly. He had anticipated earlier that if the plague couldn’t be contained, medical supplies would run scarce—he just hadn’t expected it to happen this fast, nor that the town’s stockpile of herbs would be this small.
But thinking about it more carefully, it made sense. Even his own household—being from a wealthy family—barely had any herbs on hand.
Partly because he assumed his young, strong body wouldn’t need them, and partly because he had never personally witnessed a plague infection on such a wide scale, or seen death from an illness that couldn’t be cured—so there was no habit or awareness of stockpiling medicine. The family’s main focus was always on food and everyday goods.
“Before I left, I told Chen Hu to swing by the countryside and collect some medicinal herbs while he was at it—I don’t know if he got around to it.”
Duan Yan said, “If he managed to bring anything back, we might find what we need.”
Gou San'er slapped his forehead. “I was supposed to keep an eye on his trip to the countryside, brother, but I never got the chance to mention it. He took some men out to the estate in Tian Shui village, and this morning hauled three carts of grain back, which went into the warehouse by the forge. He barely rested at all—just after noon, he headed right back out to the estate in Xiao Yan'er village.”
Duan Yan immediately said, “Then let’s head over to the warehouse by the forge and have a look.”
Song Fengsui looked at Duan Yan. “You’re going now?”
“If we go early and find nothing, the sooner we can make other plans.”
Song Fengsui saw how swift and decisive the man was. Though he inwardly approved of such an attitude toward getting things done, he couldn’t help but worry: “You haven’t even managed two hours of sleep altogether.”
“I’ve never needed much sleep—those few hours are plenty.”
Duan Yan wasn’t being boastful. The cloudiness that had been pressing down on his mind these past few days had been loosened by Song Fengsui’s needles, draining out some black blood, and after that one proper sleep, he felt far clearer and lighter than before.
“And anyway, this is just going to look at some medicine—hardly a tiring errand.”
Song Fengsui raised his eyes and carefully studied the man for a moment.
His complexion had indeed improved—no longer that sallow, dark pallor from when he had first come back, and some color had returned to his lips. If it weren’t for having examined him herself, based on his current energy alone, who would ever suspect he was poisoned?
But matters of health were nothing to take lightly. Since he had become her patient, there was no way she’d allow him to recklessly abuse his body and life right under her nose.
“Give me your hand.”
Duan Yan rubbed his palms together slightly upon hearing this, then obediently extended his arm.
Gou San'er, who had been quietly listening to Duan Yan talk first, then Song Fengsui talk afterward, had been paying close attention, thinking to help brainstorm a solution.
But before he knew it, the conversation had veered in this direction, catching him completely off guard.
He began to tiptoe quietly out of the apothecary.
But just as he lifted his foot: “Stand right there.”
Song Fengsui glanced sideways and caught sight of that lad with eyes a little too sharp for his own good. The business at hand was simply taking a pulse, but this sneaky retreat made the two of them look like something improper was going on.
How could he let the boy slip away so easily?
Gou San'er turned back, caught a frosty glare from Song Fengsui, then another from Duan Yan. He gave an awkward laugh and had no choice but to hover at the side once more. His gaze inadvertently swept over their hands resting together, and inwardly he grumbled—what sort of sentiment was this, that it needed an audience to be savored properly?
Song Fengsui withdrew his hand from Duan Yan's arm, his fingertips still seemingly tingling with the steady, vigorous thrum of the man's pulse.
He pursed his lips lightly, wondering just how this fellow was built, that his body mended so fast. Perhaps it was because his own constitution had always been weak—at the slightest ailment, it would take three or five days at least before any real sign of recovery—that he assumed others, too, should take their time healing from injuries and illnesses.
"How is it?"
Duan Yan saw Song Fengsui take his pulse and say nothing, and was already getting a little fearful of this young physician, dreading that something else might be wrong.
Song Fengsui only said, "Let's go."
"You're coming too?"
Now it was Duan Yan's turn to panic. "Your body—"
"My body is like this most of the time anyway. I know my own limits. Besides, if I don't go, will you know which herbs are needed?"
Duan Yan fell silent for a moment, then had no choice but to nod.
Out on the market street, many shops had not opened their doors. The people passing by moved with hurried steps; under the scorching heat, many covered their mouths and noses with strips of cloth, clutching small sacks of grain tightly to their chests. Their eyes were sharp with vigilance, and everyone kept a great distance from one another.
Yet at the rice shops and general goods stores, the scene was the opposite—crowds jostled in noisy frenzy.
"These are mine—all five dou of rice are mine. Don't come squeezing over here!"
"Stop grabbing! No one's allowed to snatch!"
Men and women alike swarmed to stuff rice into their sacks, terrified that even a moment's delay would mean the supplies ran out. The crowding was worse than at the grain stores during a bountiful autumn harvest.
A clerk, barely maintaining order, climbed onto a stool and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Our shopkeeper has just given the word—rice that was eight cash per sheng is now going up to ten!"
"Ten cash! Heavens above! Are you out of your mind? Raising the price that high!"
"Black-hearted! Shaneless!"
The shop was already in chaos; the price hike only ignited an explosion of outrage—curses from some, tears from others.
Song Fengsui furrowed his brow as he watched, and heard Gou San'er beside him mutter, "It used to be five cash, yesterday it was six, this morning seven or eight—and now it's ten! At this rate, it's not a price change by the day, but by the hour!"
But before anyone could even bemoan this, they saw Ge Family Pharmacy up ahead hastily slamming its doors shut, the shopkeeper slipping away quietly through the back entrance.
All that remained were the crowd of customers outside the pharmacy, pounding on the locked doors, weeping and cursing—cries of "you won't let us live!" and "rotten-hearted bastards!" ringing out.
Yet one couldn't really blame the shopkeeper for locking up and fleeing—most of the medicine had already been sold clean. The common folk who'd come seeking remedies stubbornly refused to leave, and had gone so far as to smash the head of a twelve- or thirteen-year-old shop boy until it bled.
Duan Yan's brows were tightly knit, his heart heavier than the anyone else's. Right now, it was only the outbreak of a seasonal plague, and the area around Rock Town had already fallen into this kind of disorder. If a true famine were to come, he dreaded to think how much more brutal it would be.
They crossed several streets, witness to chaos all along the way, until at last they reached the ironworks shop.
