The proprietor of Xinglin Hall was surnamed Lin.
His ancestors were renowned barefoot doctors who, after saving some silver, opened an apothecary that also offered medical consultations.
A century later, it had become the largest pharmacy in the capital.
Though Shopkeeper Lin rarely attended to patients himself, no one doubted his medical expertise.
After all, cases the resident physicians couldn’t handle always ended up in his hands.
When he declared that Ye Chutang’s prescriptions could save countless lives, no one questioned it.
Thus, the two men who had earlier doubted Ye Chutang panicked and hastily apologized.
“Miss Ye, my tongue is wicked—please don’t hold it against me.”
“I was merely curious why Miss Ye would write prescriptions, nothing more.”
Ye Chutang’s rosy lips curled slightly. “Apologies, but this young lady does not go back on her word.”
With that, she turned to Shopkeeper Lin. “May we talk?”
The shopkeeper nodded eagerly. “Of course, of course! Miss Ye, please come inside.”
He led her into the inner chamber and poured her a cup of tea.
“Miss Ye, how are you so knowledgeable about plagues? These prescriptions you’ve written are remarkable.”
The girl was only seventeen, and the Beichen Kingdom hadn’t seen an epidemic in twenty years.
After sipping her cooled tea, Ye Chutang fabricated an answer.
“A healer’s duty is to save lives. I’ve studied pestilences since childhood to help as many as possible.”
Diseases like plagues, smallpox, chickenpox, and cholera were deadly in ancient times.
But for someone from the 23rd century, they were either preventable with vaccines or as simple to treat as a cold.
Her reason for sharing the prescriptions? To gain fame—and accumulate merit points.
Shopkeeper Lin pressed curiously, “Miss Ye, did you teach yourself, or did you have a master?”
“I came across some medical texts by chance and studied them on my own.”
The shopkeeper was thoroughly humbled.
Despite his family’s generations of medical knowledge and his own research on epidemics, he’d made no breakthroughs.
“Miss Ye is a true prodigy—gifted in both literature and medicine.”
Uninterested in flattery, Ye Chutang cut to the chase.
“Shopkeeper, as a physician, you understand the value of these prescriptions.”
Of course he did. Though untested, the ingredients alone convinced him of their efficacy.
“How much do you wish to sell them for, Miss Ye?”
“Not for silver.”
The shopkeeper thought he’d misheard. “Wh-what?”
Hadn’t she just implied she wanted payment?
Ye Chutang enunciated clearly, “I don’t want money. I want reputation.”
Being hailed as the “Reincarnation of the Literary Star” would earn her respect among the elite, while the title “Living Guanyin” would secure the people’s devotion.
Together, they’d place her above the rules.
Shopkeeper Lin grasped her meaning. With fame, profit would follow effortlessly.
Such foresight in one so young—she was destined for greatness.
“Give me a day, and all the capital will know Miss Ye holds the cure for plagues.”
As the largest pharmacy in the city, Xinglin Hall saw countless patients daily. Spreading word would be effortless.
Ye Chutang drained her teacup.
“Shopkeeper, I’ll give you ten days to stockpile herbs. After that, I’ll make the prescriptions public.”
Since he was aiding her reputation, she’d grant him a favor in return.
The shopkeeper refilled her cup.
“Five days will suffice, Miss Ye. Though the plague hasn’t struck, we should disseminate the prescriptions preemptively.”
Profit mattered, but so did saving lives.
“Very well. It’s settled then. You may carry on.”
After leaving Xinglin Hall, Ye Chutang headed to the Dali Temple to seek Qi Yanzhou.
She wanted him to spread the plague prevention and treatment prescriptions to the southern regions.
“Miss Ye, the Vice Minister has returned to Prince Chen’s Mansion.”
“When will His Highness return to the Dali Temple?”
“He didn’t say. But if it’s urgent, I can escort you to the mansion.”
Deeming the matter pressing, Ye Chutang agreed. “Thank you.”
In an era restrictive toward women, having an escort was preferable to venturing alone.
The walk from the Dali Temple to Prince Chen’s Mansion took nearly two cups of tea’s time.
Qi Yanzhou’s subordinate announced her to the gatekeeper, who promptly bowed.
“Miss Ye, His Highness has instructed that you need no announcement. Please enter.”
The subordinate excused himself, and Ye Chutang guessed the privilege stemmed from the Ambush from Ten Sides musical score.
“Lead the way.”
The gatekeeper guided her straight to the inner courtyard.
The mansion, though grand, lacked opulence—its open, martial layout befitting a military family.
At the entrance to the rear garden, the gatekeeper summoned a maid.
“This is Miss Ye, His Highness’s honored guest.”
The maid, mistaking the stunningly beautiful Ye Chutang for another candidate, curtsied.
“Miss Ye, please follow me.”
“My thanks.”
Unaware, Ye Chutang trailed the maid to a pavilion by the lotus pond, its pale green curtains fluttering.
A spirited voice drifted out:
“You flatter me, Concubine Chen. My skills are amateurish—hardly worthy of ‘a tiger father begets no dog daughter.’”
A summer breeze lifted the curtains, revealing a flash of a red-clad young woman.
Ye Chutang sensed something amiss.
Before she could speak, another delicate voice chimed in:
“Unlike Miss Rou, I’ve no talent for martial arts—only a little music.”
“I’m worse; my sole skill is embroidery.”
“Having heard Prince Chen enjoys chess, I practiced diligently for two years and now fare decently.”
The pride in that last voice confirmed Ye Chutang’s suspicion:
These ladies were candidates for Qi Yanzhou’s bride, invited by Concubine Chen.
The maid had mistaken her for one of them.
Just as she began, “Actually—” a male voice overlapped:
“His Highness arrives!”
The pavilion fell silent.
A maid inside lifted the curtain. “Your Highness.”
Qi Yanzhou approached from the inner courtyard, facing Ye Chutang, who stood obscured by the gauzy drapes.
Her eyes lingered on his figure, curious which noblewoman he’d choose.
The maid gestured for her to enter, but Ye Chutang pressed a slender finger to her lips.
A silent shh.
Dazzled by her beauty, the maid obeyed.
Inside, Qi Yanzhou sensed movement beyond the pavilion. His gaze sharpened.
Two blurry figures in pale yellow stood close together.
Something felt off. He strode toward them.
