Three days later, at noon.
Sunlight trickled down through the sparse clouds, gilding the blue tiles of the Marquis of Weiyuan's Residence with a faint layer of gold. Inside the Jing'an Courtyard, the yellowing leaves of the wisteria trellis swayed gently in the breeze, making a soft rustling sound.
Outside the courtyard gate.
Hua Yuan, carrying his medicine chest, stepped over the threshold with a steady gait.
Today he wore a plain green cloth robe, without a single wrinkle on it. His hair and beard were combed meticulously, and his greying hair was tied into a simple bun at the back of his head, secured with an ebony hairpin.
On that face covered in wrinkles.
No expression could be seen.
Only in those cloudy old eyes would a gleam occasionally flash, one that others could not decipher.
Shen Ninghuan was already waiting in the courtyard.
Seeing him enter, she curtsied slightly, her voice gentle and refined: "Imperial Physician Hua, thank you for your trouble."
Hua Yuan hurriedly returned the bow, his attitude respectful but neither haughty nor humble: "Lady Shen is too polite. It is my duty."
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Shen Ninghuan led him towards the main room. Passing through the moon gate and bypassing the wisteria trellis, they arrived in front of the main room where Cheng Lu resided.
The door was half-open.
One could vaguely see figures moving inside.
Hua Yuan's footsteps paused slightly, his gaze falling on that door as he took a deep breath.
Stepping over this threshold.
Would be the true beginning.
He turned his head to look at Shen Ninghuan, his tone carrying a bit of solemnity: "Lady Shen, the arrangement inside the room..."
Shen Ninghuan smiled slightly, pushed the door open, and stepped aside: "Please come in, Imperial Physician Hua. You will see for yourself when you look."
Hua Yuan nodded and stepped over the threshold.
Then, he froze.
The room was much more spacious than he had imagined. In the center stood a long table, about six feet long and three feet wide, at just the right height. The tabletop was polished smooth and flat, without a single splinter. A thick layer of white cloth was draped over it, folded neatly, with the edges hanging down to cover the table legs.
On one side of the long table, there was a small desk.
On the desk.
A row of items was displayed neatly—
A pack of silver needles, of various sizes and thicknesses, gleaming coldly in the sunlight; three knives of different shapes, their blades as thin as cicada wings, evidently sharpened; Jincuang medicine, blood-stopping powder, Mafei powder, various bottles and jars lined up in a row; mulberry bark thread, goose quill tubes, cotton cloth, gauze, all rolled up neatly; as well as several white porcelain bowls, copper basins, and a few handkerchiefs folded into squares...
Every single item.
Every single detail.
Was placed perfectly, as if arranged according to some diagram.
Hua Yuan's gaze swept over those items one by one, and the more he looked, the deeper the astonishment in his eyes became.
He walked up to the desk, picked up a knife, and examined it carefully against the light.
The blade was sharpened excellently, with an even thickness and a smooth curve. It felt just right in his hand. Hua Yuan put down the knife, picked up the pack of silver needles, and drew out a few to inspect.
Length and thickness.
All types were complete.
He then walked to the long table and pressed down on the tabletop with his hand. It was sturdy, stable, without the slightest wobble. The height was perfect; he could operate standing up without having to bend over or stand on tiptoe.
He crouched down and checked the table legs. Each one was reinforced with wooden wedges.
As stable as could be.
He stood up, his gaze sweeping across the entire room.
In the corner, a charcoal brazier was burning. The charcoal fire was vigorous but covered with a copper hood, ensuring warmth without any sparks flying out. The window was half-open, letting in just the right amount of breeze, so it was neither too cold nor too stuffy. The floor was swept immaculately clean, with not a speck of dust to be seen even in the corners.
Hua Yuan's gaze circled the room once, then again.
Finally, he withdrew his gaze.
He looked at Shen Ninghuan.
In his eyes, there were complex emotions.
Surprise.
Appreciation.
And a bit of indescribable... emotion.
"Lady Shen," he spoke, his voice carrying a bit of solemnity, "This room... is the most thoroughly prepared place for surgery I have seen in my forty years of practicing medicine."
Shen Ninghuan smiled slightly, her tone modest: "Imperial Physician Hua overpraises me. I just prepared everything exactly as described in the medical books. If there are any omissions, please advise me, Imperial Physician Hua."
Hua Yuan shook his head.
Advise?
What could he advise?
Every detail in this room was so meticulously arranged that even he was somewhat surprised. What he had thought of was prepared here; what he hadn't thought of was also prepared here.
For example, the wooden wedges under the table legs.
For example, the extent to which the window was half-open.
For example, the placement of the charcoal brazier.
For example, the arrangement of the knives, silver needles, medicines, and gauze on the desk—just by looking, he knew it would be very handy.
Hua Yuan suddenly remembered something.
He turned around, looking at Shen Ninghuan, his gaze carrying a bit of inquiry: "Lady Shen, I make bold to ask—is the arrangement in this room based on the records in the stack of medical books from a few days ago?"
Shen Ninghuan was slightly taken aback, then smiled and nodded: "Imperial Physician Hua has a good eye. It is indeed arranged according to the diagrams in that medical book."
Hua Yuan nodded and said nothing more.
He walked to the window and stood with his hands behind his back, looking at the wisteria trellis outside.
That stack of medical books.
He naturally remembered it.
More than a month ago, Shen Ninghuan had personally delivered it to his hands, saying that Second Young Master Pei had instructed her to give it to him. It was a thick stack, densely covered with words. He had thought it was just an ordinary medical case, but upon opening it, he was completely stunned.
What was written on it was precisely the Ninth Prince's illness.
Not only did it detail the causes, classifications, and symptoms, but it also contained dozens of diagrams, clearly illustrating every possible shape, location, and connection to surrounding organs that the lesion might present.
Not only were there diagrams, but there were also surgical steps, postoperative care, and prescriptions.
Every step.
Every detail.
Was written clearly and plainly.
One look and it was evident that this was the crystallization of the lifelong efforts of generations of old physicians.
When Hua Yuan held that stack of paper back then, his hands were trembling.
He knew what this meant.
It meant that this "congenital disorder of intertwined yin and yang" had already been thoroughly studied by predecessors. It meant that the concept of "restoring the original source" had not only been proposed by predecessors but very likely practiced as well.
It meant that he, Hua Yuan, was not the first person to attempt this.
He couldn't "have a separate page in the genealogy" anymore.
Thinking of this, the corners of Hua Yuan's lips curled up slightly, a hint of relief in that curve.
He had originally thought that if he could cure the Ninth Prince, he would be the first person to cure this illness, and having a separate page opened for him in the genealogy would be a well-deserved honor.
But as soon as the medical book was in his hands, he flipped through a few pages and realized—predecessors had already walked ahead of him!
He didn't know which family of physicians had already thoroughly studied this illness and written all the intricacies clearly. He, Hua Yuan, was merely standing on the shoulders of predecessors, putting it into practice step by step.
A separate page in the genealogy?
No chance.
However, he benefited greatly from this medical book, and his confidence in the surgery increased by more than ten percent. Having a separate page in the genealogy was certainly important, but the most important thing was still the patient's health and well-being.
Hua Yuan withdrew his gaze.
He turned to look at the neatly arranged items on the desk.
This time he had high confidence. If successful, he might not get a separate page in the genealogy, but it should be possible to have a couple more sentences written about him in the family records.
After all, although the Hua family had researched it, they had never practiced it.
And he, Hua Yuan, by personally performing this procedure and succeeding, would fulfill an unfulfilled wish of his ancestors and become the first person in the Hua family to cure this illness.
Adding a couple of lines to the family genealogy.
"Hua Yuan, the seventeenth-generation descendant of the Hua clan, inherited his ancestors' will, cured the congenital illness of tangled yin and yang, restored the origin, and saved the life of a noble."
That alone would be enough.
And what he cared about even more was another matter—
That stack of medical books.
Hua Yuan's eyes flickered slightly.
Second Young Master Pei, Pei Cijing, even possessed medical books recording such a rare illness. Could there be other precious medical books in his collection? Would they record more illnesses he didn't know about, or treatments he had never seen before?
This was an unexcavated treasure trove!
If he could borrow those medical books to read, broaden his horizons, and add to his knowledge, wouldn't his, Hua Yuan's, medical skills advance yet another step?
Hua Yuan's mind became active.
It was just...
Borrowing them empty-handed didn't seem quite right.
He thought for a moment and suddenly remembered two prescriptions passed down from his ancestors—one was a secret beauty recipe, said to have been used by a favored concubine of the previous dynasty, which could make the skin fair, delicate, and radiant; the other was a secret aphrodisiac recipe, which went without saying, as those who knew, knew.
If he could use these two prescriptions to make some finished products and give them to Second Young Master Pei and his wife as a thank-you gift for borrowing the medical books...
The corners of Hua Yuan's lips curled up slightly.
But that was for later.
The most urgent matter right now was still to restore the origin for the Ninth Prince.
He took a deep breath, suppressed those distracting thoughts, and looked at Lady Shen again, his tone solemn: "Lady Shen, this room has been prepared exceptionally well. In my forty years of practicing medicine, I have never seen such a comprehensive setup. If I were to point out any flaws... I truly cannot find any."
He paused, then added, "The surgery can begin."
Shen Ninghuan nodded and turned to look at the door.
The door curtain was lifted.
Cheng Lu walked out from the inner room.
Today she wore a plain and elegant dress, a moon-white jacket, and a pale green pleated skirt. Her hair was simply pinned up with a single white jade hairpin.
Her face was free of makeup, which only made her features look more delicate and her skin as white as snow.
She did not walk fast.
Step by step, she walked steadily in front of Hua Yuan.
"Imperial Physician Hua." She curtsied slightly, her voice light and clear. "I leave it to you."
Hua Yuan looked at her, looking beneath that calm expression at the faint glimmer shining in those clear eyes.
There was anticipation.
There was apprehension.
And there was also a bit... of deeply hidden nervousness.
Hua Yuan's heart softened, and he said gently, "Do not worry, Miss. In my forty years of practicing medicine, I have never failed. Today's procedure will surely allow you... to get what you wish for."
To get what she wished for.
These words fell into Cheng Lu's ears, as if something gently plucked at her heartstrings.
She lowered her eyes and did not reply.
Only her slightly pursed lips revealed a trace of imperceptible emotion.
Shen Ninghuan stepped forward and gently held her hand.
That hand was slender and slightly cool, but steady, without the slightest tremble.
"Sister." Shen Ninghuan spoke warmly, her voice as gentle as the spring breeze in March. "I will be right beside you, assisting Imperial Physician Hua. From beginning to end, I will stay with you and won't go anywhere."
Cheng Lu looked up at her.
Shen Ninghuan's gaze was clear and gentle, reflecting her shadow. Cheng Lu suddenly felt her eyes grow hot. She blinked hard, suppressing that warmth, and nodded gently.
"Thank you, Sister Huan."
At this moment, a voice suddenly came from the doorway.
"I am here too."
The two turned to look.
Pei Cijing had arrived at the door at some unknown time. He was standing outside the threshold without entering. He was wearing a slate-blue casual robe, his hair tied up casually, looking no different from usual.
Only his eyes were exceptionally serious at this moment.
He looked at Cheng Lu, then at Shen Ninghuan, and finally his gaze landed on Hua Yuan.
"I will be guarding outside the whole time," he said. His tone was ordinary, but every word was clear. "If you need anything, you can call me at any time."
As he spoke, his eyes met Shen Ninghuan's.
That glance was brief.
But it seemed to speak a thousand words.
Shen Ninghuan nodded slightly, the corners of her lips curling. She naturally understood Pei Cijing's meaning. Last night, in their room, Pei Cijing had told her something with rare seriousness—
"My wife, I actually know medicine too."
Shen Ninghuan had been slightly startled at the time, but not surprised. She had long known that her husband had redeemed the Divine Doctor skill from the system, so his medical skills shouldn't be bad.
After all, the title of Divine Doctor wasn't given lightly.
"That surgery for the Ninth Prince, I actually know how to do it too," Pei Cijing continued, his tone carrying some complex emotions. "But my wife, I cannot do it."
Shen Ninghuan looked at him.
"The strict boundaries between men and women," Pei Cijing sighed. "With my status, if I personally perform that kind of surgery on her, even if we can keep it from outsiders afterward, she wouldn't be able to get over that hurdle in her own heart, and the Sixth Prince wouldn't agree to it either."
He paused and held Shen Ninghuan's hand.
"So this matter can only be handed over to Imperial Physician Hua. He is an imperial physician to begin with, and he is old enough to be the Ninth Prince's grandfather. It is most appropriate for him to do it."
"However—" He looked at Shen Ninghuan seriously. "In case something goes wrong on Imperial Physician Hua's end, or if there's something he can't resolve, you must call me immediately. I will go in and take over to keep the mother and child... no, to keep the Ninth Prince safe."
Hearing this at the time, Shen Ninghuan's heart had melted completely.
This man.
Usually, he looked lazy and indifferent, staying aloof from things that didn't concern him. But when it came to a critical moment, he was willing to step forward and was more reliable than anyone else.
At this moment, Pei Cijing standing outside the door and saying you can call me at any time was the fulfillment of that promise from last night.
Shen Ninghuan looked at him and nodded gently, her eyes seeming to say, Don't worry, I know.
Pei Cijing also nodded, turned around, and walked over to sit on the stone bench in the courtyard.
His back was to the door.
But his ears were perked up.
Ready to stand up at any moment.
...
Inside the room.
Hua Yuan opened his medical box and took out the last wrapped item—it was a set of surgical knives he had improved himself after repeatedly practicing in the purification room for over a month.
They were thinner, sharper, and handier than ordinary ones.
He laid out those knives one by one on the low table, placing them together with the ones prepared by the Marquis's mansion, and then looked up at Cheng Lu.
"Miss, we can begin."
Cheng Lu nodded.
She walked to the long table, looked at the long table covered with a white cloth, and took a deep breath.
Then, she lay down on it.
The white cloth was soft and clean, carrying a faint scent of soap pods.
She lay there, looking at the roof beams above, looking at the sunlight streaming in through the window lattices, and looking at the tiny specks of dust floating slowly in the beams of light.
Her heart was beating a little fast.
Shen Ninghuan walked over holding a white porcelain bowl in her hand. Inside the bowl was Mafeisan anesthetic, already mixed—a dark bowl of liquid with a rich medicinal fragrance.
"Sister," she said softly. "Drink this, and it won't hurt anymore."
Cheng Lu took the bowl and looked at the medicinal liquid.
It was pitch black.
The bitter smell rushed straight into her nose.
She remembered her childhood in the palace; every time she fell ill, she had to drink this kind of bitter medicine. Back then, she would always furrow her brows, requiring the eunuchs to coax her for a long time before she would take a sip.
Now...
She picked up the bowl, tilted her head back, and downed it in one gulp.
The medicinal broth was incredibly bitter, spreading its acrid taste from the tip of her tongue all the way down her throat and into her stomach. She swallowed with a scrunched face, choking and coughing a couple of times.
Shen Ninghuan took the empty bowl and gently patted her back.
Before long, the medicine took effect.
Cheng Lu's gaze began to unfocus, her eyelids growing heavier and her body going limp. She struggled to keep her eyes open, looking at Shen Ninghuan. Her lips moved, wanting to say something.
Shen Ninghuan leaned down close to her ear.
"Rest assured, sister," she said softly, her voice as gentle as one coaxing a child to sleep. "When you wake up, everything will be fine."
Cheng Lu looked at her.
Looking into those clear, gentle eyes.
Then, her eyes slowly closed, and her consciousness plunged into darkness.
Hua Yuan stepped forward, looking at the unconscious Cheng Lu on the long table, and took a deep breath.
He picked up his most trusted knife from the small table, examining it closely against the light. The blade was as thin as a cicada's wing, gleaming with a cold light.
He set the knife down, picked up the packet of silver needles, drew one out, and gently twirled it between his fingertips.
Then, he looked at Shen Ninghuan.
"Lady Shen, we can begin."
Shen Ninghuan nodded and stood by his side. Her gaze fell upon the neatly arranged instruments on the table, waiting only for Imperial Physician Hua's instructions, ready to assist at any moment.
Inside the room, it was so quiet that only the sound of breathing could be heard.
Outside.
Pei Cijing sat on a stone stool in the courtyard, his back to the door.
Sunlight filtered through the wisteria leaves, casting dappled shadows over him. He sat there, motionless, like a stone statue.
The servants in the courtyard had long been dismissed.
The people Shen Ninghuan had personally selected knew what was at stake; they would not gossip or meddle. At this moment, the entire Jing'an Courtyard was silent, save for the wind and the occasional chirping of birds.
Pei Cijing looked up at the sky.
The sun was directly overhead.
Noon.
He withdrew his gaze and continued to wait.
Time ticked by, and the sunlight slowly shifted westward.
The shadows of the wisteria grew longer and longer on the ground. Pei Cijing still sat there, unmoving, counting his breaths: one, two, three...
When he had lost count of how many breaths he had taken, the door behind him creaked open.
Pei Cijing stood up abruptly.
He turned to look.
Shen Ninghuan was the first to walk out the door.
Her face was somewhat pale, a thin layer of sweat dotting her forehead, and her brows carried a hint of exhaustion. Yet, her eyes were sparkling bright.
That look in her eyes.
Pei Cijing understood the moment he saw it.
Immediately after, Hua Yuan also walked out.
His face bore traces of fatigue, satisfaction, and a few indescribably complex emotions. Those cloudy old eyes were now astonishingly bright.
He walked up to Pei Cijing and stood still.
The two exchanged a brief look.
Then, Hua Yuan bowed slightly, offering a solemn salute.
"Second Young Master Pei," he spoke, his voice hoarse but every word clear, "I have not failed my mission."
Pei Cijing looked at him, at his tired yet fulfilled face, at his astonishingly bright eyes, and at his slightly trembling, blood-stained hands...
The former Ninth Prince.
From this moment on.
Had thoroughly become Miss Cheng Lu!
[Ding! Successfully consumed the gossip 'Head of the Imperial Hospital works a miracle, Prince returns to female body', Gossip Points +2438!]
[Current Gossip Points: 7750]
