Duan Yan returned to the residence with Song Fengsui, and the two of them didn't idle about.
A cartload of supplies had been hauled back—Duan Yan sent all the medicinal herbs to the pharmacy for Song Fengsui's use, while the grain was locked away in the residence's storehouse.
The household didn't have many hands, and the only ones who could really pitch in were Duan Yan and Gou San'er. The two of them worked hard to get all the grain stored in the warehouse, and by the time they finished, night had already fallen, and both were drenched in sweat.
Duan Yan wiped the sweat from his brow and headed inside to wash up; at the same time, he thought to himself that the blacksmith shop, being where his predecessor had spent most of his time, had plenty of hands. Even if not everyone there was loyal to him now, he could still call on them for manual labor easily enough.
If this residence were just for a quiet, peaceful life, that would be one thing—but trouble seemed to come at the worst times, and that was exactly when he needed extra hands the most.
He mulled it over: if the chance came, he should hire a few reliable and capable people for the household.
First, someone needed to guard the place, and second, he needed people to help coordinate and handle tasks.
After all, this was a big compound—if the master of the house was away, he couldn't leave An Ge'er, a delicate young man, to watch over it alone. And as things stood, every little task fell to Gou San'er, who was already exhausted, not to mention that when several things happened at once, one person simply couldn't run around and handle it all.
But Duan Yan was only mulling this over in his head. When it came to hiring people, he couldn't just rashly bring in unreliable sorts. He simply settled on the idea of finding new hands and would keep an eye out from now on.
He took a meticulous shower, changed into clean clothes, and walked out of the bathhouse. Lifting his sleeve to sniff, he found it wasn't the pleasant cold fragrance that Young Master Song naturally carried, but at least it was the clean, fresh scent of soap—not a trace of sweat. Only then did he feel at ease.
A bowl of medicinal broth had already been placed on the table—An Ge'er had brought it over from Song Fengsui earlier.
He reached out and touched the belly of the bowl with the back of his fingers. The temperature was just right, neither hot nor cold. He couldn't help but glance out the window at the small pharmacy across the way.
A lamp had already been lit in that room, and he figured the other man was still in there working with the herbs.
Duan Yan picked up the bowl and drank the medicine down in one gulp.
The next day, when Duan Yan woke up, the sun outside was already blistering hot.
He rarely slept this long—he guessed it was because of the travel and the acupuncture and medicine afterward. Either way, he'd had a good, solid sleep. His mind, which had felt like it had been soaked in several days of spring rain, finally felt like it had seen the sun again.
After washing up and stepping outside, the scorching sun hung high, and cicadas were chirping in waves, enough to make a person restless.
A faint scent of medicinal herbs drifted into his nose on the rare breeze, which cooled his temper by a notch.
Duan Yan followed the herbal smell to the pharmacy, where he spotted a round little stove burning charcoal, with a medicine pot sitting on top making a gurgling sound.
Song Fengsui had his back to the window, working on herbs at the counter. His elegant, slender hands neatly arranged different plants into piles and used scissors to snip large leafy branches into smaller pieces.
The room was small to begin with, and with the stove burning outside, the temperature inside was even higher than outdoors. A thin layer of sweat beads had formed on his forehead, and he hadn't even noticed.
This young man was truly earnest and patient when he worked. Last night, before Duan Yan had taken his medicine and gone to sleep, he'd seen the lamp in the pharmacy still lit. Now that he was up, the man was already busy in there again.
He was tending to the herbs with such care that Duan Yan didn't want to interrupt him. But he worried about the young man cooping himself up in the room all day under the heat—his constitution was already frail to begin with, and after two or three days of rest, his face was still as pale as paper. If another ailment were added on top of that, how could his body possibly endure it?
So he thought he'd go to the back kitchen courtyard, draw some cold water from the well, and bring it into the room. It wouldn't be as effective as ice for cooling things down, but at least it could drive off some of the heat.
"Where are you off to?"
Duan Yan had barely turned around when a voice drifted lazily from inside the room: "Since you're awake, come over and take your medicine."
He turned back to see that Song Fengsui had set down his scissors and walked over to the brazier. With a long ladle, he scooped some of the medicinal broth from the clay pot into a bowl.
Duan Yan thought to himself—this young man had sharp ears, catching the sound of his approach from early on: "Medicine for me?"
Song Fengsui didn't answer. He just stirred the broth with the ladle for a good while before handing the bowl over, then raised a pair of phoenix eyes to look at the man directly.
Duan Yan tipped his head back and drank the bowl dry, then lowered his gaze to meet Song Fengsui's unabashed stare. His weathered face flushed just a little.
He gave a light cough, about to ask what the matter was, when he heard:
"Your body really is in fine shape. After just one round of acupuncture and one dose of medicine, there's already a touch of color returning to your face."
If a physician praised your health, then it was genuinely good health.
Duan Yan laughed heartily: "It's your medical skill that does the trick—a master healer bringing the dying back to life."
After saying this, he asked again: "What about you? Have you taken your medicine?"
Song Fengsui's lips pressed together slightly. He took the bowl from Duan Yan's hand and set it aside, then turned back to the medicine counter, continuing to trim his herbs with his back to Duan Yan.
"You haven't taken it?"
Duan Yan grew anxious and followed him, pressing the question.
"I took the morning dose, of course," Song Fengsui said slowly. "I took it after breakfast. It hasn't yet reached the hour for lunch, so the midday dose simply hasn't been taken."
At that, Duan Yan relaxed a little: "You're a physician—when you're unwell, you should lead by example. Take your decoctions on time, and only then will your patients be more willing to follow the medical instructions."
Song Fengsui's lips curved upward lightly: "Mm."
Duan Yan saw how easygoing the man was being all of a sudden, so he said: "That heavy rain the day before yesterday had chased away some of the heat, but one day of blazing sun and it's back again. The sun's climbing higher by the hour—don't stay cooped up in this little room too long. Go out and get some air."
"Grandfather is confined to bed with illness—where would I find the leisure of mind to get air? Besides, I naturally run cold, so I'm not particularly afraid of the heat."
"Thin folk indeed don't feel the heat as much as those of bigger build, but you're far too scrawny. That's no good—it makes you more prone to falling ill."
And with that, Duan Yan asked again: "What did you eat this morning?"
Song Fengsui's hands paused mid-motion: "...Whatever was brought, that's what I ate."
From that alone, Duan Yan knew the man hadn't been eating properly. Last night he'd complained of the heat, too—with his mind preoccupied on the medicine compounding, he'd barely touched his chopsticks. And if this morning had gone the same way, then if the medicine took too long to prepare, he'd collapse from exhaustion at this rate.
Duan Yan thought to himself: since he was taking the day off at home today with nothing else of note to do, he might as well go to the kitchen stove.
"What would you like for lunch? I'll make you something."
Song Fengsui hadn't wanted to linger on the topic of food, but hearing Duan Yan say that, he couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
He sized the man up with interest, then said: "You know your way around a kitchen?"
"What's so surprising about that?" Duan Yan felt a bit awkward under that scrutiny. "Just tell me what you want to eat, and I'll make it."
Having said that, he added seriously, "Though it all depends on whether there are ingredients here for whatever dishes you might fancy."
Song Fengsui came from a distinguished family and had been used to a life of fine food and luxury back then. If he were to ask for things like deer sinew, bear paw, or sea cucumber, there was no way they could be prepared here.
A faint, barely perceptible smile flickered in Song Fengsui's eyes. "I won't order anything specific, then. Whatever ingredients are there at the stove, just cook with those."
He didn't believe for a second that Duan Yan, a burly blacksmith of a man, would know how to tend to soups and broths. More than likely, the man intended to buy him some decent local dishes from the eateries outside.
If he went ahead and ordered specific dishes, would it still be easy for the man to find the right ones? Since the fellow was clearly trying to win his favor, why be coy and make things difficult?
"Alright."
Duan Yan agreed readily. He drew some well water and set it in the medicine room to cool off the place, then headed to the back kitchen.
Song Fengsui glanced at the several basins of water arranged in the room, then couldn't help turning his head again to watch Duan Yan's retreating figure on the way to the kitchen. A smile rose in his eyes—the man was putting on quite a convincing act.
He took a qian of chopped wild Dysosma versipellis and placed it into the grinding boat, rolling the wheel back and forth. Once he had ground the medicinal herb into powder, he'd go see what sort of tricks the man was up to.
It was not yet noon. Madam Li was cleaning, clutching a rag in her hand. Though she was wiping down the stove, her eyes kept darting toward the outside of the residence, her expression anxious.
When Duan Yan went over and saw the look on her face, he asked what was wrong. Only then did he learn that her eldest grandson had fallen ill—throwing up and having diarrhea all morning, crying in pain on the bed. The family had gone out to find a doctor, but they'd searched the whole town without success. The little boy was only two or three years old, and she was beside herself with worry.
These days, the epidemic raging through the countryside had everyone on edge, and the town was hardly any more settled. Not only had grain and medicine prices gone up, but you couldn't even find a doctor if you fell sick or got injured. It was pure chaos.
"Then go on back and check on things. If your family still hasn't found a doctor, ask Gou San'er about the whereabouts of that female physician who’s been coming to the residence to see Young Master Song."
Duan Yan said, "She may be a female doctor, but she knows her medicine well enough. At a time like this, having someone who understands medicine take a look is far better than just worrying helplessly."
"Yes, yes." Madam Li nodded repeatedly. She had actually suggested to her son that if they couldn't find a doctor, they might summon the female physician from town. But that son of hers said a woman couldn't possibly know medicine—she'd only mess around and delay the child's treatment.
Seeing that Duan Yan was willing to let her go home, she was overjoyed, but still hesitated. "It's getting late in the day now. If I head home, what about the noon meal here..."
"Don't you worry about that. This household won't go hungry."
Madam Li felt a thousand times grateful. She thanked Duan Yan and hurriedly gathered her things to leave.
Duan Yan watched her go and let out a soft sigh. Though the epidemic in the countryside was the most pressing concern, the town's supervisor hadn't left the common folk a single decent doctor to call on. It really was looking after one thing while neglecting another.
He exhaled a heavy breath. Outside doctors couldn't do much even if they wanted to, but at least this precious resident of the house could be properly taken care of. With that, he set about preparing the midday meal.
Duan Yan's cellar was no small thing. Climbing down the ladder, the air turned cold and damp. On the wooden racks were stored plenty of meat and fresh fruits and vegetables.
He took out a slab of pork, then picked out cucumbers, watermelon, green beans, leafy greens, and eggs, loading them into a basket and carrying it back up.
There were still two live chickens penned in the yard. He grabbed one, slit its throat to let the blood drain, scalded it in boiling water to loosen the feathers, plucked them out, and then singed the carcass over straw. That got rid of all the fine down, leaving behind a unique fragrance of toasted hay.
Duan Yan figured that for building up one's health, simple home-style dishes were best, so he decided to make a plate of chilled smashed cucumber with garlic and a stir-fry of tender, crisp long beans with minced garlic.
He could also make a dish from the winter melon. He scooped out the sweet red flesh to quench thirst, peeled away the outer rind, kept that translucent green layer of white flesh in between, sliced it thin, and simmered it with lean pork into a soup.
The free-range old hen from the countryside went into a slow stew. The gizzards and innards were stir-fried with scallions, and the chicken blood was turned into a soup with small greens and fine vermicelli.
Song Fengsui had been tending to things in the herbal medicine room for a while. He swept his gaze over the few basins of well water set in the corner of the room, then stepped out of the house.
As luck would have it, he ran straight into An Ge'er, who had just finished washing clothes and was heading back toward the quarters.
"Seems it's almost midday, but Madam Li rushed out in a fluster just now. I set down what I was doing and was about to ask where she was off to, but she moved quick as anything—she vanished in the time it takes to turn your back."
An Ge'er said to Song Fengsui, "At this hour, going out… maybe she forgot to buy the vegetables."
Song Fengsui's brows lifted slightly. Just as I thought, he said to himself — no sooner said than done, she's sent someone out posthaste.
"And your master? Have you seen him anywhere?"
An Ge'er shook his head. "Haven't caught sight of Master Duan. Gou San'er went out early this morning and still hasn't come back either."
Song Fengsui wondered where that man had gone off to this time. He'd said he wanted to cook for him, and even if he didn't know how, fine—but now he was even delegating the task of buying ready-made food from outside to someone else.
He pressed his lips together and made his way toward the outer courtyard. No sooner had he reached the covered walkway than a waft of cooking aroma hit his nostrils.
Song Fengsui tilted his head instinctively and followed the scent step by step.
He stopped just at the doorway to the rear kitchen courtyard.
There, standing perfectly straight in front of the stove, was a figure with a cloth apron tied around the waist, sleeves rolled up neat and tidy.
The man held the handle of a small wok with one hand, and the exposed stretch of forearm showed muscles that stood out slightly—not in a rough or bulky way, but with a kind of easy, effortless strength.
The iron wok gave a light toss in his hand, and the food leapt up into the air. The flames roared high, meeting the airborne ingredients in a burst, instantly releasing a mouthwatering fragrance.
Half-peeking around the doorframe, Song Fengsui stared.
So this man really did have some talent after all!
