The room was as quiet as water. Song Jinzhao picked up a three-edged needle and quickly pricked Yang Cena’s points behind his ears and at his ten acupoints on his fingertips.
“The brain’s meridians are blocked, and the tendons are obstructed. First, we need to open the orifices, then unblock the pathways.”
The tip of the needle gradually turned a dark purple. Yang Cena clenched his fists tightly, his eyes shut, and his jaw nearly clenched to the point of breaking.
Each prick wasn’t particularly painful, but the continuous, unrelenting stabs felt like venomous insects and snakes burrowing into his brain, gnawing at the flesh. His scalp tingled, and his temples throbbed with a sharp, pulsing ache.
Song Jinzhao put away the three-edged needle and switched to a finer silver needle.
“Don’t move. Relax. I’m about to begin.”
Yang Cena’s eyes flew open, staring at her in disbelief.
“Now you start? How much more will it hurt than before?”
Song Jinzhao twisted the silver needle and said calmly, “It won’t hurt. It might sting a little when it first goes in, like an ant bite.”
She glanced at the house physician, who was writing furiously. “Take notes first. This isn’t just a one-time thing. You’ll need to be here every day from now on.”
The physician stopped writing and looked up. A drop of ink fell onto the paper and spread into a blotch.
Yang Cena closed his eyes again. He found that it didn’t hurt as much as before, and his tense nerves gradually relaxed.
The silver needles lined up along the acupuncture points and meridians, forming three rows across the top of his head. “Lean back and rest for two quarters of an hour. Bring the charcoal brazier over.”
An L-shaped iron bucket covered the brazier, with its end pointed at the back of Yang Cena’s head to provide continuous heat.
“The temperature shouldn’t be too high or too low. It should feel like a hot towel draped over the body.”
The house physician nodded respectfully, his gaze lingering on the charcoal brazier and the L-shaped iron bucket with evident surprise.
Usually, patients were made to sit in a bath. How had she come up with this tool for acupuncture?
Song Jinzhao explained the principles of the restorative treatment in great detail to the house physician, nearly pulling out a textbook to illustrate her points.
Gu Baozhu had been standing in the room initially, but she grew bored listening and eventually stepped outside to wait.
She looked into the distance, then at the surroundings, and gradually her attention was drawn to the corridor and the cavalry posted downstairs.
After two quarters of an hour, Song Jinzhao pulled out all the silver needles from Yang Cena’s head.
“Treating the after-effects of a brain injury is a lengthy process. There are things to pay attention to: daily routine, habits, and diet.”
Song Shixue handed a sheet of paper covered in instructions to Yang Zhong.
When unrolled, it was half as long as Yang Zhong himself, densely packed with nearly a hundred rules. It left him utterly bewildered.
How was this any different from caring for a pregnant woman?
On the way back to the medical clinic, Gu Baozhu looked at Song Jinzhao with some concern.
“The soldiers stationed at the inn have eyes as fierce as wolves, and there are no constables around. I can’t help but feel uneasy.”
Song Shixue chimed in, “The inn is right next to the clinic. If anything happens, we’ll see it from the doorway.”
Song Jinzhao turned around. “The patrolling constables go by once every hour to check on them.”
“Right now, Yang Cena’s only thought is to return to Panzhou as soon as possible. They won’t cause trouble in Suining.”
Gu Baozhu took a deep breath and nodded, but the worry in her eyes didn’t fade.
“The sooner they leave, the better. Having them here always makes me uneasy.”
After returning to the clinic, Song Jinzhao left shortly afterward. Gu Baozhu and Lanxi stayed behind to keep Song Shixue company.
Once the “open for business” sign was hung, Song Shixue was busy before long.
Gu Baozhu sat in a chair, staring blankly at the busy Song Shixue. Her gaze traveled from her shoes to the top of her head, and her thoughts gradually drifted to her age.
Shixue was eighteen this year, two years older than herself. County Princess Linghui was even past twenty. Yet neither of them ever seemed worried about marriage.
Thinking about how Gu Zhongxun and his wife kept urging her to get married, Gu Baozhu let out several long sighs. All the energy and spirit she had—both on her face and in her heart—drained away.
