At breakfast, Gu Jinghong’s shoulder still ached a bit. Seeing this, Song Shixue set down her spoon.
“Should I give you a couple of acupuncture needles?”
Gu Jinghong quickly shook his head in refusal. “It’s nothing, just a pulled muscle.”
Song Jinzhao stood up, walked over, and grasped his wrist.
“Relax, let me take a look.”
When his arm was raised nearly to shoulder level, Gu Jinghong suddenly cried out in pain.
He instinctively pulled his hand back, but Song Jinzhao held on without success.
She pressed her thumb firmly into the junction of his shoulder and armpit, pushing downward. A crisp pop sounded, and Gu Jinghong thought his arm had broken.
“You should’ve said it was dislocated earlier.” Song Jinzhao released her grip. “Does it still hurt?”
Gu Jinghong rotated his arm numbly and, realizing the pain was gone, let out a silent breath of relief.
“I thought it was just a strain. I didn’t realize it was dislocated.”
Song Jinzhao returned to her seat. “It was my fault for not controlling my strength. If there’s a next time, I’ll hold back a bit.”
Gu Huaiyuan was a military officer, and he had trained his own son since childhood. Gu Jinghong had shown decent skill when he killed bandits during their first meeting. She’d intended to test his limits but hadn’t expected to injure him.
Gu Jinghong lowered his head to look at the mushroom noodles in his bowl. “It’s not the County Princess’s fault. It’s just that we’re too weak.”
Song Qiming and Song Shixue shot him a speechless look.
If you’re going to call yourself weak, don’t drag us into it. Who isn’t weak when fighting Eldest Sister?
After breakfast, they went to the inn to treat Yang Cenan’s injuries. As they stepped through the threshold, they heard someone smashing things upstairs.
Zeng Boyan came down with a gloomy face, pausing mid-step when he saw Song Jinzhao.
“County Princess, please wait here for a moment. We’ll go up to treat Third Young Master once he’s calmed down.”
Song Jinzhao frowned with displeasure.
“Excessive emotional swings aren’t good for recovery. Didn’t the physician you brought instruct him on that?”
Zeng Boyan sighed. “He did. Third Young Master is raging because he’s fully recalled how the Young Mistress and the Young Master died. None of us can stop him.”
Song Jinzhao was stunned. “His memory has returned?”
Zeng Boyan nodded. “Before, his mind only held fragmented images.”
“Somehow, after just a cup of tea earlier, everything came back.”
The crashing upstairs continued unabated. The innkeeper, standing behind the counter, shook his head in anguish.
Heavens, at this rate, his inn would be torn down.
When their eyes met, the fear and anxiety in the innkeeper’s gaze instantly turned into pleading.
Song Jinzhao turned to Zeng Boyan and said flatly, “The common folk run small businesses. Make sure you pay for the damaged items.”
Zeng Boyan’s face stiffened, and he gave an awkward twitch of his lips.
“Of course we’ll pay. We’ll certainly give extra.”
After who knows how long, the disturbance upstairs finally stopped.
Yang Zhong quickly led people to clear the wreckage downstairs.
Yang Cenan was staying in the Celestial Best Room, which had been decorated with several vases and ornaments—now all reduced to trash.
Just the porcelain shards filled two dustpans, plus spilled food and soup that left a trail all the way down. Even the clothes rack had been snapped in half.
After throwing everything out, Yang Zhong instructed the innkeeper, “Send a waiter up to clean the room. Buy new furnishings, and make sure they’re finer quality.”
A fifty-tael silver note was placed on the counter. The innkeeper shot it a bitter glance before picking it up reluctantly.
He turned to instruct the waiter, subtly winking as he spoke.
“Hurry up and clean.”
Get it done while County Princess Linghui is still here, in case she loses her temper and no one can shield them.
The waiter assigned to clean moved as if his backside were on fire, his hands flying like invisible shadows. He was done in less than half an hour.
By the time Song Jinzhao and Song Shixue entered the room, the water stains on the floor hadn’t even dried yet.
Throughout the entire treatment, Yang Cenan remained silent. He sat motionless on the bed, his eyes looking as if they wanted to devour someone.
The physician’s hands kept trembling as he held the needle, missing the correct spots several times until Song Jinzhao corrected him.
After leaving the inn, Song Shixue said, “Elder Sister, I don’t think his recovery will go well.”
Song Jinzhao replied, “The nerves in his face haven’t shown any improvement. The facial paralysis probably won’t heal.”
