The fragrant steam curling through the back kitchen couldn't contain the aroma of the dishes being cooked. Song Fengsui caught a whiff of the scent, gave a soft cough, and finally stepped inside.
Duan Yan glanced up to see the young man drifting into the kitchen, his hands rhythmically slicing the skin off a winter melon, the pieces falling neat and even, uniform in thickness.
He swept them into a plate with one motion, watching the approaching man bend slightly, wrinkling his nose like a little kitten, sniffing at the just-cooked stir-fried chicken gizzards.
"Hungry?"
Song Fengsui didn't answer that directly, instead saying, "I once saw the servants at home buy marinated giblets to eat, saying the flavor was excellent."
Back in the capital, he went out by sedan and returned by carriage, frequenting only grand restaurants and grand dining halls. What they served was either fresh, rare, or exotic—never common street fare like this.
People said those who ate such offal were lowly servants and rough men, and that noble mouths must never touch such filthy dishes. So seeing this fragrant small dish made from chicken gizzards, he felt somewhat surprised.
Duan Yan understood that Song Fengsui was implying he had never eaten it before.
The wealthy, with mountains of delicacies and seas of exotic foods to spare, naturally wouldn't fancy a taste for animal innards. In this era, only common folk with scarce resources would go to the trouble of thoroughly cleaning these "filthy things" to cook up a dish.
"We just slaughtered the chicken, so I sorted these out and stir-fried a plate. I'll save some for Gou San'er and the others to eat later. Madam Li's grandson is sick—I'm not sure if they've managed to call a doctor. I was worried, so I sent her home to check. There's no one to cook lunch, so I thought I'd handle it all."
Duan Yan reassured Song Fengsui, "I've stewed a whole chicken for you separately, and made other soups and dishes as well. You don't have to rely on this one dish."
Song Fengsui glanced up at Duan Yan, his tone slow: "Why have you decided unilaterally that I can't share in it? I used to hear this ingredient was no good, but now seeing how skilled the cook here is, I've taken a sudden fancy to trying it."
Duan Yan blinked in surprise, then laughed. "If you're game to try, then by all means."
So Song Fengsui stayed put in the kitchen and didn't leave. He watched the man's practiced knife work, the cutting board giving off a steady rhythmic clatter as plump garlic cloves shattered into even mince, a limp slab of pork shaved paper-thin.
He also watched the man's precise control over heat and oil temperature, the measured additions of salt, soy sauce, and water. Preparing ingredients, stoking the fire, stir-frying—a host of tedious tasks, yet he handled them all alone, calm and orderly.
More than once, Song Fengsui tried to lend a hand, stepping toward the stove, but the man would say, "It's hot out—don't come near the stove, you'll get scorched."
When he moved toward the washbasin by the counter, the man said, "That's freshly drawn well water, far too cold. Don't touch."
Fine then, surely peeling a garlic clove would be harmless. "Garlic has a strong smell, and it'll cling to your hands."
Song Fengsui: ....
So he could only sit on a stool by the square table on the side, waiting obediently for his meal.
He watched the busy Duan Yan in silence. Over the years, he had encountered many outstanding men—some blessed with brilliant learning, some with martial prowess, and others with striking looks—but he had never met a man like Duan Yan.
At first glance, Duan Yan was a sturdily built, straightforward soldier type. But on closer look, he was also a uniquely patient and considerate soul.
One would usually expect a warrior to be rough and blunt, and a scholar refined but frail. Yet Duan Yan seemed... to have taken the best of both.
Just as he was lost in thought, all five dishes were set on the table, and the steaming aroma of the food brought him back to his senses, his gaze involuntarily falling upon the dishes.
Duan Yan took a bowl, ladled a small portion of chicken soup into it, and placed it before the man.
Song Fengsui's usually picky nose had already been won over by the fragrance of the cooking, and now he wanted to see how it fared on the palate.
The chicken soup upon entering his mouth was richly savory, as if it had distilled the very essence of an entire chicken. He had never been fond of greasy food; in the past, even had this chicken been stewed into such a rich and fine broth, he likely would not have drunk much of it.
But that was the appetite of wealth and privilege then. Throughout this exile, he had barely seen any meat or fish, and the little he did have reeked of gameyness he simply could not swallow, leaving his belly nearly devoid of any fat, and he had grown far thinner than before.
Now, for the first time in a long while, tasting meat that was palatable, his appetite had actually perked up somewhat.
Duan Yan watched him: "How is it? Does it suit your taste?"
Song Fengsui nodded slightly. The soup in the bowl was sparse, and he said, "Let me have a little more."
"Drink only a bit to taste the flavor," Duan Yan advised. "The soup is mostly purines; to nourish the body, you need to eat more meat."
The whole chicken drumstick had not been split; it had been stewed until the skin was slightly tender, the flesh within soaked in broth, looking smooth and far from dry.
In the next instant, the drumstick landed in Song Fengsui's bowl.
Song Fengsui parted his lips, about to refuse, but seeing the drumstick was not particularly large, he fell silent and let it be.
He then picked up his chopsticks and tried the chicken. True to the richness of the soup, the meat was indeed silky and tender, not the slightest bit stringy.
Duan Yan saw that Song Fengsui still ate with slow, deliberate refinement, but at least he was no longer simply holding his chopsticks stiffly without taking a bite, as he had been before.
It seemed the food really did suit his taste somewhat.
Only then did Duan Yan himself start to eat. He had eaten little last night as well, had taken his medicine and slept past the morning, and now, seeing the hour nearing noon, he had skipped breakfast entirely, his stomach hollow.
Perhaps the food was truly excellent, or perhaps having someone with a good appetite eat alongside him helped, but Song Fengsui actually ate a fair amount—finishing one drumstick, and then, imitating Duan Yan, eating a small bowl of polished rice with the chicken gizzards and innards mixed in.
The crunchy intestines and gizzards—if one did not think about where they came from, the texture and the stir-fried aroma alone were no worse than mountain delicacies, and they truly paired well with rice.
There was also the winter melon meat soup, refreshing and lightly sweet, the meat broth not greasy in the least.
It resembled a winter melon and meat soup, but was even sweeter and cleaner. Most importantly, in the summer months when winter melon was not in season, one could still enjoy a similar flavor.
Song Fengsui, who was not fond of rich foods, found it curious—the taste suited him perfectly.
There were many dishes, and he had barely taken more than a few bites from each before he was more than satisfied.
Duan Yan secretly calculated how much the man had eaten, judged that he should be full, and did not urge him to eat more. Those who had eaten little for a long time should not stuff themselves all at once, for it would hurt the stomach.
Song Fengsui put down his chopsticks. A good meal had, in truth, lifted the heavy mood he had carried for so long.
He propped his chin lightly on one finger, his beautiful eyes resting on the man eating across from him.
"What I find curious," he said, "is that with such a skill in cooking, how is it your childhood sweetheart still did not come to you? What exactly did you do back then?"
Duan Yan, hearing the question that seemed half-casual, half-aimed at poking fun at him, could not help but freeze for a moment.
Why was she still holding on to this matter? It truly was hard to explain.
He looked at Song Fengsui, silent, offering no words.
"You won't tell me?" Song Fengsui raised a slender brow upon seeing Duan Yan's expression.
"I wonder if he'd have chosen me if he'd ever tasted my cooking."
Duan Yan pondered for a moment: "Anyway, I never cooked for him."
That much was the honest truth.
Song Fengsui was taken aback by his words.
Childhood sweethearts, and he'd never once cooked for him—yet he and Duan Yan had known each other for how long, and already this…
Song Fengsui cut that train of thought short. The man came across as blunt and earnest, seemingly oblivious to matters of the heart, almost simple—but in truth, he was more than capable of doing things that stirred the affections of young ladies and lads alike, and from time to time, he spouted smooth-talking flattery with ease.
What had started as a friend's jest had turned around and trapped him instead.
Song Fengsui's brow shifted subtly. To speak plainly, he found Duan Yan a good and dependable man. From everything he'd observed of the man's temperament and conduct since they'd met, he fit his tastes rather well.
If it were the past—when he was still that radiant young scion of a noble house, without a single worry to his name—and he'd met Duan Yan then, perhaps he truly might have let things develop in that direction.
But now, with his family fallen and his parents bedridden, drifting through days where he couldn't even guess what the future held, he simply had no energy for such thoughts, nor any possibility of embracing romantic affairs.
"Duan Yan," he said slowly, "some people and some things—even if fate grants you the chance to cross paths—if the timing is wrong, there will never be a result.
Many things can't be forced... especially matters of the heart."
"?"
Duan Yan was baffled. He forgot to even swallow the food in his mouth, his eyes lifting to look at Song Fengsui.
He saw the man's serious expression, but had no idea why he'd suddenly brought this up.
Thinking it over, perhaps he was trying to console him over his childhood sweetheart's story.
But that was the original owner's sweetheart, a young man he'd liked, and had no emotional connection to Duan Yan himself. In truth, he wasn't the least bit sad—and anyway, the man was already married, so there was nothing left to cling to.
Still, the original owner, wild as he'd been, had genuinely treated that young man well before his feelings shifted to Song Fengsui's case—staying clean and proper throughout, never messing around.
For now, Duan Yan had to maintain some of the original owner's decent qualities. Not that he needed to put on the airs of lingering over old love, but he should at least show respect toward past feelings.
So Duan Yan adopted a grave expression: "I know feelings can't be forced, and I never intended to force anything. If one has put in heart and effort to the fullest, then even if the end result isn't the perfect outcome one initially imagined, looking back later, there's nothing to be ashamed of."
Song Fengsui paused, then continued: "...Don't stubbornly sink too deep. Sometimes you think the person before you now is the best you'll ever meet in this lifetime, but that's not necessarily true. Life is long—who's to say that someone better, someone more suited to you, isn't still waiting ahead?"
Life rises and falls, shifts and turns. Back in the capital, the Young Marquis had harbored deep affection for him, making it known to everyone far and wide.
Many thought he and the Marquis's Young Marquis were a match made in heaven, destined to be wed. But in the span of a single breath, his status changed, his entire family was exiled—and that very same season, the Young Marquis's household held a grand wedding.
In truth, he had never resented the Young Marquis. Even though the boy had sworn with such sincere passion, vowing time and again to welcome him with ten miles of bridal red.
Looking back now, perhaps what existed between them was never truly a matter of romance—merely comparable family standing, frequent contact in their youth, and the world taking them for a perfect match of talent and beauty.
Then one side came crashing down, and indeed there was no reason to risk the emperor's wrath by keeping ties, to court trouble over promises made in the heedless days of boyhood.
Yet on certain sleepless nights, recalling the past, he could not help but sigh at the fickleness of the world.
For this reason, in his view, the affections between men were extremely shallow—changing with outside circumstances, a new mood with each passing day was nothing unusual.
Love between men and women was too fragile; being friends, comrades, was far more enduring.
He also treasured his acquaintance with Duan Yan, and so did not wish for them to tread that path which seemed as thin as ice.
Duan Yan had no idea of Song Fengsui's reflections; he simply listened quietly, mulling over the man's words and finding them reasonable enough.
But...
"Don't dwell on old feelings—better things are yet to come~"
Wh-what was with that phrasing? It sounded strange!
Duan Yan sneakily shot a glance at Song Fengsui. He had neither suffered a sudden reversal of family fortune, nor had a sweetheart remarried someone else, so naturally he had no idea what prompted Song Fengsui's musings.
Just hearing his words, however, made his mind wander. He couldn't help thinking... it sounded like some kind of hint.
Suddenly, it hit Duan Yan like a thunderclap—little Brother Song wasn't taking a fancy to him, was he?!
He swallowed hard. The two of them had only known each other for two days, hadn't they? With his background and talent, Song ought to be a young man of high standards—how could he easily set his sights on a blacksmith from some backwater?
But... but if that weren't the intention, why would he suddenly say all this....
Thinking it over carefully, quite a lot had indeed happened in these past two days. He had acted out of a desire to solve problems, done some things that, to him, were nothing special—but in Song Fengsui's eyes, perhaps they seemed like more than they were.
The Song family had suddenly fallen; their nobility had become fleeting clouds.
Song Fengsui had watched the tower crumble all the way, had his fill of coldness from the world and the hardships of exile. Then suddenly someone showed him a bit of care. In desperate straits, a single shred of kindness could easily be magnified without limit—gratitude mingled with grievance, such complex emotions easily mistook for... It wasn't the first time he'd encountered something like this.
And besides, if Song Fengsui didn't mean it that way, why would he have helped him cure the poison without holding a grudge, gone out of his way to obtain the medicinal herbs even at the cost of earning Chen Hu's resentment, willing to be the scapegoat....
The more Duan Yan thought, the more muddled his head became. Heavens! Was little Brother Song even of age or not? Everything he'd done before—he truly hadn't intended to seduce him!
Had he known things would develop this way, he wouldn't have treated him so... ugh, it wasn't like he thought he'd been all that good to him!
The air fell into a heavy silence.
Seeing Duan Yan say nothing, his expression twisting between conflict and distress, Song Fengsui's breath caught.
Speaking these words now—was he being thoughtless, lacking in loyalty?
He had received much care from the other over these days, had only just said they could help each other in the future—and now he turned around, wiped his face clean, and told the man to rein in his feelings, to stop harboring illusions toward him. Two different faces back to back....
Moreover, Duan Yan's situation was hardly optimistic right now: those close to him had betrayed him, and he had been poisoned.
He had only been speaking his mind, following Duan Yan's suggestive words, without any intention of embarrassing him. He wasn't the kind of young man who would exploit another's affection for him to get things done. Truly, he thought Duan Yan was a decent person, which was why he didn't want the man to waste his feelings or give without any limits.
He thought that if the two of them could coexist on equal terms, as friends or allies, that would be the most sustainable arrangement.
But once he calmed down, he realized he had been thinking only of his own perspective, not putting himself in Duan Yan's shoes. Now was indeed not the right time to bring this up.
Song Fengsui paused, then softened his tone and said, "I was just speaking off the cuff. Don't take it to heart. As you said, the days ahead are long, and who can say how things will turn out? One's state of mind changes with circumstances. By then, the troubles and worries of the present may no longer seem so difficult."
Duan Yan noticed that Song Fengsui hadn't waited for his reply and gave a rather strained smile, probably trying to appear at ease to the other man.
Seeing that expression on his face, and hearing that anything was possible in the future, Duan Yan became even more certain of his suspicions.
Duan Yan couldn't quite put into words what he was feeling at that moment—more than anything, perhaps it was heartache. Heartache for what this young man had been through. A life that should have been easy and prosperous had instead been filled with hardship, to the point where he now found himself developing feelings for a man who would never have crossed his path otherwise.
He should have extinguished the spark the moment he noticed it, and given the young man a proper admonishment.
But considering that Song Fengsui was unwell and in an unstable situation, and that Duan Yan was probably the only person he could trust right now, an immediate and blunt rejection might hurt him.
It was better, for now, not to refuse outright, especially since Song Fengsui hadn't made his feelings explicit either.
The man was intelligent; once things settled down and time passed, he would come to understand on his own without Duan Yan having to explain anything.
Having reasoned with himself, Duan Yan took a breath and said, "What you said isn't wrong either. For now, the priority is to recover your health and resolve the epidemic. As for those other matters, we can discuss them later."
Song Fengsui's eyes shifted slightly, and he gave a light nod.
The two of them, each with complicated thoughts, tacitly agreed to set the matter aside for the time being.
In the afternoon, Song Fengsui, who was used to eating little, felt drowsy after a full meal and went back to his room for a short nap. After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, he got up and went to the medicine room.
He busied himself for the rest of the afternoon, and the medicine for the epidemic was nearly prepared.
He packed the medicine into satchels and placed them in his medical box, eager to return to the village as soon as possible. Whether the medicine would work, he could only know after someone actually took it.
So he went to find Duan Yan, to see if they could get into the village through his connections.
"We truly couldn't find a doctor, so the family had no choice but to ask around and ended up at Madam Zhao's place. Who would have thought—her family said she had gone out early in the morning and hadn't even come home for lunch. None of her household knew which patient she was visiting."
"The child was vomiting until his little face turned pale, and he couldn't even cry out anymore. I felt like my heart was being torn to pieces watching him. Children are frail to begin with, and who knows if he's come into contact with something unclean. If anything should happen to him, what would I even do..."
Song Fengsui had barely reached the entrance of the side hall when he heard Madam Li's sobbing from inside.
He furrowed his brow. "What is it? The child still hasn't improved?"
Seeing Song Fengsui enter, Madam Li dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief in her hand. "No, not yet."
Duan Yan said, "Gou San'er came back around noon and said the town doctor had already been sent to the countryside to treat the epidemic. Even Madam Zhao, who saw you earlier, is overwhelmed.
There are quite a few households in town, and at a time like this, anyone with the slightest headache or fever is terrified they might have caught the plague and insists on seeing a doctor before feeling at ease. So doctors are in especially high demand."
Song Fengsui fell silent for a moment, noticing that Madam Li's eyes were already swollen. He couldn't bear to ignore it. Taking a quick look at the child wouldn't cost much time, and if he turned a blind eye and a life were lost, he would find no peace of mind.
He set aside his own business for now and turned to Duan Yan. "Why don't I go take a look?"
Madam Li's eyes lit up suddenly. At this point, she couldn't afford to question his medical skill—anyone with a bit of knowledge willing to take a look would do.
She looked at Duan Yan as well. "Would that be too much trouble for you, sir?"
Duan Yan naturally wouldn't stop Song Fengsui from going out. "Can your body handle it?"
"What's there to worry about? Just a house call in town, no great effort."
Hearing this, Duan Yan gave his consent.
Madam Li expressed her gratitude repeatedly, and Song Fengsui didn't linger. He went back to the medicine room to pack his medical kit. Though he was heading to Madam Li's place, given what had happened before, he didn't dare go anywhere unfamiliar alone—better to bring An Ge'er along.
He walked quickly to the outer courtyard, intending to call for An Ge'er, but found Duan Yan waiting at the door. Song Fengsui assumed he had some parting advice, until the man casually reached over and lifted the medical kit from his shoulder. Only then did he realize that Duan Yan intended to go with him.
"You... don't you have anything to do this afternoon?"
Duan Yan said, "Yesterday, I went to the shop to pick up grain and change the locks. It's already this hour, and Chen Hu still hasn't shown up making a fuss—that's odd. I was planning to head to the shop, but since he's not in a hurry, I don't need to rush either."
Song Fengsui coughed dryly. Was this man too clingy? It was as if he couldn't stand to have Song Fengsui out of his sight for even a moment.
He said softly, "If you're busy, there's no need to come with me to Madam Li's. I'll just have An Ge'er accompany me. I already asked about the child's symptoms—it shouldn't be hard to handle, and I won't be long."
Duan Yan, seeing that Song Fengsui didn't want him to come along—likely still harboring a bit of a grudge over their earlier conversation—tried to reason with him:
"I know you're perfectly capable, but in a small place like this, it's already awkward enough for a woman or a young man to make house calls, let alone someone who looks like you... ah, well. When Madam Zhao came to see you earlier, she was only able to come because her husband accompanied her."
Song Fengsui suddenly looked up at him. "You saw her husband accompany her on house calls, and so you thought..."
Duan Yan froze at that interpretation. What he'd said was true enough, but put that way, it did sound rather off.
He quickly added, "What I mean is, even if you bring An Ge'er, the two of you are still just a pair of delicate youths. It's still a bit improper—it's better to have a man along. If Gou San'er were here, I'd have him take you instead."
In this household, apart from the newly hired Gou San'er, there wasn't a single able-bodied man to guard the place. Having An Ge'er to look after things at home was fine, but when it came to going out somewhere, it wasn't so convenient.
Song Fengsui calmed down a bit and seriously mulled over Duan Yan's reasoning. If something really did happen, in terms of brute strength, two young men tied together still wouldn't match up to one grown man.
It was just... just why did that business about Madam Zhao going out for house calls with her husband accompanying her have to come up.
His gaze flickered with a hint of evasion, and he let out a soft, uneasy hum: "Then let's go."
Madam Li's home was down another alley in town, where a family of six or seven squeezed into three rooms. Though the space was small, the place was passable—after all, Madam Li counted as a craftswoman of sorts.
Right now, the household was in an uproar over the child's condition. Madam Li's daughter-in-law was burning incense and calling on the spirits for help, while her eldest son, Qiao Dalang, paced frantically around the small courtyard with his hands clasped behind his back. When he saw his sister come out carrying water to wipe down the child, tears streaking her face, he lashed out at her without mercy.
"Cry, cry, cry! The child isn't dead yet! All you know is crying—you've brought bad luck to this whole house with your wailing! This illness is your fault! Can't even look after a child properly, just eat and laze around at home all day. Raising you really was a waste of those two catties of grain!"
"Big Brother!" The second son, coming out of the kitchen, called out in a low voice. Seeing Qiao Dalang berating his sister again, he furrowed his brows: "I know you're worried, but why take it out on Third Sister? She's worried about Bao too. The child's been vomiting and having diarrhea, and she's the one who's been busy cleaning up and looking after—"
"And who asked for your opinion around here! If you've got any real skill, go find a doctor. If you're useless, get out and do your work. Don't come back hiding behind concern for Bao just to slack off!"
Lin Er listened to Qiao Dalang's words, his face cycling through shades of pale and red, fury building in his chest. He'd come over out of genuine concern for the child, only to be talked down to like this—who wouldn't be angry hearing that?
But the family name was Qiao, and he and his sister bore the surname Lin. He didn't have much in the way of skills either, only able to find odd manual labor outside, hauling and carrying things for a few hard-earned coins. By day he endured other people's contempt, and coming home, he had to swallow this brother's abuse.
If only he had some real ability, this brother of his wouldn't dare bully the three of them like this. He wanted to pounce on him and land a few punches, but while it might feel good in the moment, his mother would end up caught in the middle, blamed by all sides.
Lin Er's chest heaved. He lowered his head and headed for the door. If they couldn't stand the sight of him, fine—he'd just leave.
But no sooner had he reached the entrance than he ran straight into his mother returning home, and walking alongside her was a young man.
The moment Lin Er saw him, he froze. The stifled frustration pressing on his chest was forgotten in an instant, replaced by astonishment and a pounding heartbeat. He thought to himself, how could there be someone so striking-looking in this world.
His face flushed slightly. He quickly averted his gaze and asked Madam Li, "Mother, who is this?"
"This is Brother Song. He's kind enough to come take a look at our Bao."
Madam Li had heard the siblings squabbling from outside the door. She'd heard it all, and Song Fengsui, who had been walking with her the whole way, wasn't deaf either. Having an outsider witness the family's dirty laundry was, to Madam Li, an utter embarrassment.
Thankfully, they'd stopped arguing by the time she came in—otherwise, it really would have been a spectacle.
Who would have thought Lin Er would be so polite, but Qiao Dalang was a bit further back and hadn't seen Song Fengsui, who was blocked by Lin Er's figure. He only heard Madam Li's voice and hurried forward, dragging his steps:
"Little brother? What little brother? Where did you go and find someone this time? When has there ever been a little brother on this town who knows medicine?"
"Don't be so flustered you've lost your head and just grab anyone..."
Qiao Dalang's mouth was like a crossbow, firing off arrows without pause, not caring who he was talking to. He just shot his venomous bolts, and whether they hit you or not, they could give anyone a good chill.
That said, the way he could shout and order people around, even treating his elders the same way, showed he looked down on Madam Li, Lin Er, and Lin Sanmei from the bottom of his heart. He figured they could only get a decent meal by clinging to the Qiao family.
But just as he was striding over with all his bluster, he saw Song Fengsui standing quietly in the courtyard, and instantly his eyes went wide.
It was one thing for his eyes to lock straight onto the man, but he also couldn't help wanting to step even closer to him, and his tone was like bubbles rising from a swamp pit: "Which household does this young brother belong to? How old is he? He can practice medicine too? How come I've never seen him in town before?"
Song Fengsui frowned slightly and paid no mind to Qiao Dalang, turning instead to say, "Madam Li, where is the child?"
Who would have thought that even as a physician called in to treat the sick, he could run into such a frivolous man—no wonder female doctors had it so hard.
His lashes lowered slightly. No wonder Duan Yan kept such a tight watch on him; in the end, he knew this place better.
But come to think of it, how had that man managed to lose his way walking over here?
Song Fengsui's brows knit lightly, but he didn't crane his neck to look for Duan Yan. He simply said to Madam Li, "Where is the child?"
Madam Li was about to lead Song Fengsui inside when, who would have guessed, Qiao Dalang raised his foot to block the way: "When a rare guest comes to the house, how can we rush them into work without even offering a cup of tea? Young brother, have a seat in the hall for a bit. I've got some fine Yunding Maojian tea put away—it's got an excellent flavor. There's no hurry to see the patient after you've had some tea."
With that, he glanced toward the main hall and shamelessly reached out to pull Song Fengsui along without a hint of propriety.
But not only did he end up touching the man, it wasn't his sleeve either—it was a warm hand. A jolt like an electric shock ran through his whole body. Ignoring completely that his whole family was right there in the house, he abruptly clamped down on the hand he'd grabbed.
In his excitement, he lightly rubbed the palm in his grip. The calluses were thick and hard, rough as old tree bark—and wait, why did this hand seem a good deal bigger than his own?
Qiao Dalang turned his head in suspicion and came face to face with a stare cold enough to match the dead of winter. Everyone in the Qiao family courtyard was holding their breath, not daring to make a sound.
And here he was, still gripping the man's hand tightly, having stroked it to his heart's content.
Qiao Dalang's heart seized in panic: "Brother Duan... Brother Duan..."
"Your household certainly has a unique way of receiving guests!"
Duan Yan flung Qiao Dalang's hand away like tossing aside a dirty rag. Qiao Dalang, though hardly a slight man, staggered from the force and nearly fell.
Qiao Dalang steadied himself and forced a dry laugh: "I didn't know Brother Duan had arrived. The child is ill, and the house is in complete disarray. You can see how anxious I was just now—I lost all sense of guest etiquette. Don't laugh at me, Brother Duan."
Duan Yan watched the man with cold eyes. Were it not that the patient was a child, and seeing a vile character like Qiao Dalang, he wouldn't have bothered to have Song Fengsui examine him at all; curing a man like Qiao Dalang would only make him more of a menace.
Song Fengsui came out of this exchange looking rather unwell. He raised his eyes and saw that Duan Yan was carrying a cloth-covered basket, though he couldn't tell what was inside.
Seeing that Duan Yan looked even worse than he did, Song Fengsui found he had no more anger left in him. He had no desire to keep wrangling with such a ruffian, and only wished to finish the examination quickly and leave—this place was one he never wanted to step foot in again.
He took the medical box from Duan Yan's hands, called for Madam Li, and headed straight for the house.
Qiao Dalang, observing all this, was dim-witted enough not to realize that Song Fengsui belonged to Duan Yan.
He sighed inwardly with regret—what a truly exquisite young man, one who would have been a pleasure to enjoy, a proper worthy experience for any man in this lifetime. What a pity such a rare beauty had already been claimed, and by someone who guarded him so closely.
In the presence of the tall, powerfully built Duan Yan, Qiao Dalang might harbor lustful thoughts, but he didn't even dare sneak another glance at him.
He lowered his head and spoke with hushed, ingratiating flattery: "Brother Duan, you are truly kind and virtuous. In the midst of all your busy affairs, you still made this trip for my little boy. I truly don't know how to express my gratitude."
Qiao Dalang had indeed heard earlier that his father's second wife had found work for some woman from the kitchen, but he'd never bothered to ask whose household she belonged to—how could he have imagined it was that minor deity of the town?
Nor had he ever thought it possible to invite such a personage to his home for a consultation.
"Brother Duan, why don't you sit in the house for a moment? I'll call my wife to prepare a few dishes for you to enjoy with some wine."
On the side, Lin Er watched his older brother encounter a real force to be reckoned with. All the bluster and bark from earlier had vanished; his cowering, ingratiating demeanor now was nothing but the behavior of one who only acts tough at home.
Lin Er didn't much respect him for it. Since a doctor had arrived, his mind was put at ease. He nodded politely to Duan Yan and went out the door to attend to his business.
Duan Yan paid Qiao Dalang no mind. He coldly told him to shut up and simply waited in the courtyard for Song Fengsui.
"What has the child eaten recently?"
Inside the room, Song Fengsui checked the pulse of the little boy lying on the small couch, whose face was already pale as paper, and examined what he had vomited. Then he asked about his diet.
Lin Sanmei, standing in attendance, spoke quietly in reply: "I heard that a plague was spreading outside. These past two days, I kept an eye on Bao and didn't let him leave the house. Besides his three regular meals a day, he's eaten nothing else."
"Madam Li told me the child fell ill only today. Describe in detail what he ate this morning."
Lin Sanmei said: "This morning, the household ate porridge and pickled vegetables. The porridge and pickles were made before dawn, and everyone in the family ate the same........."
Mid-sentence, she seemed to recall something, and her face suddenly tensed up.
"Sir Song, if you have a question, just ask," Madam Li prompted, seeing the girl hesitate. She urged urgently: "Is something wrong?"
"Grain prices outside have been rising a bit every day, so high it makes one anxious. My older brother said, since we don't know just how bad the plague might get, he told us to be frugal with the grain. This morning the porridge was made with more water and less rice, and Bao didn't get enough to eat. So my sister-in-law gave him the leftover bowlful of cooked rice from last night."
Song Fengsui frowned: "In this weather, leftover rice from the previous night turns bad most easily. Once the rice sours, it breeds harmful things inside. A child's spleen and stomach are weak—how can they withstand such abuse!"
Lin Sanmei dabbed at her tear-swollen eyes, her heart aching over the child's condition. "Young Doctor Song, you simply must save Bao."
Though the child was born to Qiao Dalang and his wife, the husband was a lout and the wife a sluggard, so the boy had been raised almost entirely by Madam Li and Lin Sanmei since birth. How could they not ache for a child they'd watched grow?
Song Fengsui said, "No need to panic. I've written a prescription for Bao. Follow it and prepare the decoction for him. One dose will ease his symptoms, and three doses should see him nearly recovered."
Then he added a reminder: "The illness itself is easy enough to diagnose right now, but the herbs are hard to procure. Aside from what I can provide from my own stores, the rest you'll have to find by your own means."
Song Fengsui wrote down the herbs that he and Duan Yan didn't have on hand.
Madam Li set aside the joy that the child could be treated, only to be stricken by the difficulty of sourcing the herbs. She hurriedly handed the prescription to Qiao Dalang, telling him to use his connections to track the ingredients down.
Duan Yan saw that it was yet another hardship involving medicinal herbs. He had no great solution either, but offering what his household did have was a fair measure of generosity.
One's own affairs still required one's own solutions.
With the consultation over, he fetched his medical bag and called for Madam Li to stay home and mind the child — no rush, no need to see them off — then moved to bring Song Fengsui back with him.
But unexpectedly, Song Fengsui turned and walked toward Qiao Dalang.
Seeing the man approach him with unhurried grace, Qiao Dalang's heart gave a sudden lurch. He both dreaded Duan Yan and yet couldn't help a stir of longing. Just as he was about to let his fantasies run wild, he heard:
"Consultation fee: thirty coppers. Medicinal supplies: sixty coppers."
Qiao Dalang blinked, then snapped out of it, deeply disappointed as he slowly fumbled out his money pouch...
On the way back, Song Fengsui walked beside Duan Yan. He'd meant to bring up the matter of returning to his hometown, but turned his head to see Duan Yan still carrying that basket. He couldn't help but lift a corner of the cloth covering it to peek inside — a whole basket of crisp peaches.
"So that's where you went — to buy peaches? You must like them a lot. Is there something special about these?"
"They're just ordinary peaches."
Duan Yan furrowed his brow. "On the way over, I thought since Madam Li and I had an employer relationship, and we were visiting someone's home to see a patient, going empty-handed wouldn't look right. I saw someone selling peaches on the street, so I figured I'd buy a bit of fruit to bring along."
Song Fengsui found it amusing. "You're oddly proper about etiquette. So why did you end up carrying them back out again?"
"That Qiao Dalang has such a base character — if I'd given them to him, the peaches would've been better off rotting on the tree."
Song Fengsui watched how seriously Duan Yan took this and thought the man could be truly entertaining sometimes.
He took out the money he'd just earned, kept the coppers from the consultation, and handed the rest to Duan Yan.
As it happened, they'd both had the same thought. If Qiao Dalang hadn't shown such a disgusting attitude, Song Fengsui would've been glad to do it for free — why chase him for payment? But the man had treated a visiting physician like dirt, so why play the generous benefactor for him?
Besides, he was sorely in need of silver. Banished to this place, working day and night under the court's assignment, he could barely scrape together a full meal at home, let alone earn money.
"I'm no longer the pampered young master of a noble house. I have to keep my eyes peeled for every copper."
Duan Yan looked at the weight of coppers in his hand, then stepped closer to Song Fengsui and held them out. "Then take these too."
"Earning money by your own skill and begging for handouts are two very different things."
Song Fengsui brushed Duan Yan's hand away. "That was the money from selling your medicinal herbs."
Duan Yan had initially wanted to say that if he needed money, he could give him some, but on second thought, if he were to offer money out of nowhere to someone—especially a young and handsome lad—it would far too easily give the impression of wanting to develop an improper relationship.
So he set that idea aside for the time being and said instead, "If you want to earn money, the city is in chaos right now and short on doctors. You could take advantage of this to see patients. That way, you can both collect consultation fees and ease the people's urgent needs."
Song Fengsui thought it was indeed a good idea that killed two birds with one stone, but he still shook his head. "Duan Yan, I've nearly finished preparing the medicine for the plague. I want to return to my hometown as soon as possible. The prescription is set, but the condition of the illness can change at any moment. Whether the formula works or not, we won't know until it's actually put to use. I can't delay any longer—not just for my grandfather's sake, but for the sake of the whole town of Yan."
Duan Yan's brow tightened upon hearing this. He knew this was a matter of utmost urgency. If there was no solution to the plague, then this wasn't just an affair for the officials—it was a major crisis for every common person living here.
When the lips are gone, the teeth feel the cold. If most people contracted the plague, wouldn't this place become a land of the dead? Even if a few with means could flee elsewhere, once the outside world learned that Yan Town was stricken with epidemic, they would surely inspect and guard their borders extremely strictly, and would not easily allow people from the affected area to enter.
The best course of action at the moment was to restore peace to this place.
"I sent Gou San'er to the village of Liu this morning to see what the situation is like there and to negotiate a way for people to get in."
When Duan Yan heard that Song Fengsui had already prepared a medicine to try, he couldn't help but feel a bit more hopeful. He was actually anxious too, but he didn't want to rush the other man, afraid of adding pressure and making him overthink. Now that he heard him volunteer that he was almost done, he said, "Come on, let's go back and see if he's returned."
Song Fengsui felt a warmth in his chest at how Duan Yan had kept this matter close to his heart, and he quickened his pace to walk back with him.
