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  This is a very long chapter, so enjoy!

  ___

  After taking a day to rest, Ji Ping’an visited Old Madam Song again for a meal. The old madam, devoted to her Buddhist practice and detached from worldly affairs, had no idea that Ji Ping’an had been imprisoned. She only heard that Ji Ping’an had won the Princess’s favor during the birthday banquet, and she was genuinely happy for her.

  Old Madam Song gently rolled the prayer beads in her hand. “Gaining the favor of the Princess is a good thing, but as the saying goes, blessings often come with hidden dangers. The royal family isn’t like ordinary households—the rules are many, the expectations high. You must be cautious in everything; never offend the imperial family.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Ji Ping’an replied humbly, accepting the advice with grace.

  Old Madam Song added, “The Princess and His Majesty are born of the same mother, and they were close even in childhood. Ah…”

  Speaking of those old matters brought a shadow of sorrow to the old madam’s face. Still, since Ji Ping’an was now growing close to the Princess, she felt she had to say something—better to warn her now than let her stumble and bring ruin upon herself by mistake.

  “The Emperor, when he was young, was the ninth prince,” Old Madam Song expined, “and he and the Princess were born to the te Emperor’s consort, Shu Fei. In her youth, Shu Fei was famed in Bianjing for her talent, proud and aloof, with a temperament that made her difficult to please. The te Emperor never favored her. She passed away when His Majesty was only three years old, and the Princess was just fifteen at the time. The te Emperor had many sons, and with that came intense rivalry for favor. The Crown Prince originally appointed wasn’t the current Emperor…”

  “It all began with the Rebellion of the Three Princes. Those who were demoted died. In the end, the throne passed to His Majesty,” said Old Madam Song with a sigh. “The Princess started raising His Majesty when she was just fifteen. For a long time, it was just the two of them in the pace, relying on each other.”

  “While Shu Fei was still alive, at least she held the rank of fei. Life was retively decent. After her passing, the te Emperor pitied the Princess and the Emperor, and back then, if the Princess had wanted to take a husband, she could’ve. She and Prince Consort Qi Jinghui had grown up together, childhood sweethearts. The te Emperor was fond of the match too. But if the Princess took a husband, she would have had to leave the pace and set up her own household. That would’ve left His Majesty alone. She didn’t want that, so the te Emperor let it go.”

  “Then the te Emperor grew ill, and the court fell into chaos with the Three Princes vying for power. There was no time for personal matters. The Princess missed her first opportunity. Years ter, once His Majesty was crowned Prince of the Realm, she had her second chance. At that time, His Majesty was fourteen, and the Princess was already twenty-six, nearly twenty-seven. In Bianjing, most women of that age already had children. Qi Jinghui had been sent to serve as Xunyang Prefect and was nearing thirty. When he heard the Princess was seeking a consort, he rushed thousands of li from Xunyang to the capital. That’s when people learned he’d never married.”

  Ji Ping’an couldn’t help but sigh. “Her Highness is a woman of deep feeling, and the Prince Consort was clearly a devoted man.”

  Old Madam Song nodded. “Yes, in this dynasty, any man who becomes a prince consort must relinquish all official duties. For Qi Jinghui, this meant resigning from his position as prefect. He did so willingly and lived harmoniously with Her Highness, earning the admiration of the entire capital. However, five years ago, His Majesty was ambushed while out hunting. Qi Jinghui took a barrage of arrows to save him, sustaining a fatal injury. He died on the spot. Since then, the Emperor has felt deep guilt and compassion for Her Highness, which is why he has always indulged her. Yet, the Princess carries two lifelong regrets: first, she never fulfilled her vow to grow old with her consort; second, she never had a child of her own with him.”

  Ji Ping’an murmured, “She raised His Majesty from the age of three. In his heart, the Princess must be like a sister… and a mother.”

  “That’s exactly it.” Old Madam Song sighed again. “When the assassination happened, the court suspected the royal kin or remnants of the Three Princes’ rebellion. So, three years ago, when the Ministry of Rites submitted a memorial to officially confer titles to princes’ children over ten years old, His Majesty threw the entire memorial into the furnace.”

  Ji Ping’an’s eyes widened in realization. “So that’s why Zhou Pingping is always called ‘Miss Zhou’ and not ‘Junzhu.’”

  She had assumed it was just a fictional rule in the novel—that even daughters of royalty weren’t titled unless they were born to the Emperor himself.

  Old Madam Song nodded. “Exactly. That’s why, Ping’an, the more the Princess favors you, the more careful you must be. Don’t offend her. And whatever you do, never provoke imperial authority. The Emperor’s wrath is not something mere mortals can predict.”

  Ji Ping’an thought for a moment, then smiled gently. “Rest assured, Old Madam. I’m just an ordinary woman. My retionship with Her Highness is simply that of doctor and patient. As for His Majesty, he is the Son of Heaven. He lives behind pace walls. How could a humble girl like me ever cross his path, let alone offend him?”

  Old Madam Song’s face softened into a kindly smile. “You’re right, of course. Still, caution is never a bad thing.”

  Ji Ping’an nodded. “I’ll remember your advice.”

  After the serious talk, Old Madam Song asked about her health, reminding her not to tire herself and to avoid taking everything to heart—just throw your worries on someone else, she said. Don’t torment yourself.

  The more Ji Ping’an listened, the more she felt they shared the same mindset. Old Madam Song really was a model of emotional detachment—an expert in not internalizing things.

  At noon, the old madam invited Ji Ping’an to stay for lunch. Though she herself followed a vegetarian diet and recited scriptures, she made sure the kitchen prepared two meat dishes just for Ji Ping’an.

  After the meal, as the old madam went to rest, Ji Ping’an left and took Dongchun with her for another trip to Miaoren Hall.

  As usual, Mu Sheng drove the carriage to the back entrance to avoid blocking the street.

  No sooner had Ji Ping’an and Dongchun stepped inside than they heard raised voices again—this time a different group of workers, and once more, the issue was stolen food.

  Food was already scarce for commoners. Each worker brought a set amount daily. If it got stolen, they had nothing left. And woodworking was physically demanding—no food meant working hungry, and that was unbearable.

  The foreman was livid. He stood in the back courtyard, hands on his hips, shouting, “Which bastard keeps stealing things every day? Who?! You dog! Let me catch you, and I’ll break your damn legs!”

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  No one knew what he was smashing, but it definitely didn’t sound good.

  Dongchun looked a little nervous and whispered, “Miss, let’s go for now and come back ter.”

  “It’s fine,” Ji Ping’an said, frowning slightly. She’d already felt something was off st time. The two boys who had argued before—one accused the other of stealing his meat bun, while the other denied it. But the accused, Li Le, had looked very thin with a ft stomach. He didn’t seem like someone who’d just eaten anything.

  And besides, the foreman had already blown up at them st time. Now it was happening again? If food really was being stolen daily, as the foreman cimed, and the workers relied on him for jobs, who would be foolish enough to keep stealing under his nose?

  Ji Ping’an sent Dongchun to the bun shop down the block to order forty-six meat buns and had them delivered.

  The workers toiled hard—it wasn’t right for a few buns to stir up resentment or cause more serious trouble.

  When the buns arrived, the foreman looked awkward. There were only twelve people working, and forty-six buns—each man would get at least three.

  Miss Ji was really generous.

  The foreman kicked a younger worker who was already drooling. “Go on, thank Miss Ji! Look at you gluttons, your eyes are about to fall out.”

  The boy grinned sheepishly and scratched his head, bowing repeatedly to thank Ji Ping’an.

  She told them to split the buns and eat their fill. If it wasn’t enough, they could buy more. Any leftovers could be counted and stored in the kitchen. At the end of the workday, she’d order another batch so everyone could take some home to their families.

  “That’s way too much,” the foreman said, hunching slightly in surprise. “These meat buns are huge—two or three would fill you up.”

  Having meat to eat was as good as celebrating the New Year.

  Even as he said that, the workers had already begun snatching up the buns. The foreman ughed apologetically at Ji Ping’an and quickly went to grab one for himself, chomping down happily.

  Ji Ping’an and Dongchun sat to rest while Zhou Dali, the bun shop owner, came to settle the bill. Dongchun paid him, and he cheerfully gifted them two extra meat buns for Ji Ping’an and Dongchun to try.

  Ji Ping’an had just eaten lunch, so she couldn’t finish a whole one. She took a bun and split it with Dongchun for a taste.

  The moment she bit into it, she nearly choked—it was awful.

  They called it a meat bun, but it only had a bit of greasy meat residue. Barely any real meat. Likely just some rd and scraps of offal. The dough wasn’t even made of pure wheat—it was dry and tough, not crumbly or crispy. The bit of fat added some aroma but didn’t help with texture. The bun had been baked dry over the fire and was stiff.

  Later, Li Tinghui arrived carrying her basket. “Smells great—meat buns?”

  Dongchun handed her one, and Li Tinghui took it cheerfully. “Just came back from picking peonies. I’m starving.”

  “Peonies?” Dongchun poured her a bowl of cool spring water. “You picking them for a flower arrangement?”

  Li Tinghui was chewing, so Ji Ping’an answered with a smile, “The kind your Sister Li picks probably aren’t for arranging.”

  “Then what kind are they?” Dongchun asked.

  “There are ornamental and medicinal peonies,” Ji Ping’an expined. “The ornamental ones have rger, prettier blooms. The medicinal ones have thick, fleshy roots. The petals help regute menstruation and improve blood circution. Brewed with honey, they clear heat, detoxify, and soothe the digestive system. The roots are even more useful—treating rashes, convulsions, bleeding, and more. And it’s not just peonies; many flowers have medicinal value. Like inu for digestion, poppies for cough and diarrhea. Since your Sister Li is a doctor, it’s natural she’d gather seasonal flowers to dry and preserve.”

  Li Tinghui met Ji Ping’an’s eyes and smiled. “That’s exactly it.”

  Dongchun cupped her face. “Then I’ll help you both pick flowers, too. I’ll pick lots and lots!”

  “Alright.” Ji Ping’an smiled.

  The three of them chatted for a long while until the foreman yelled out with a ugh, “Get outta here, you gluttons! Miss Ji’s treating you to buns—not fattening you up for sughter! If you’re full, stop stuffing yourselves! Miss Ji said there’ll be more after work. You can take some home—don’t fight over it now!”

  “Hehe, Old Zhang, it’s just… we never get to eat good stuff like this,” said Li Le with a grin. His belly was round as a drum, crumbs stuck to his mouth, and he still clutched half a bun.

  “Alright, enough clowning.” The foreman pointed to the kitchen. “Everyone, help count what’s left and store it. We’ll divide it up after work.”

  “Got it, Old Zhang!”

  The group gathered up the remaining buns and carefully counted and stored them in the kitchen.

  The bun shop was only steps from the clinic, so they’d arrived still hot, their scent lingering in the air. Though the buns were now cold, the aroma filled the entire building.

  Seeing the buns had been pced in the kitchen, Ji Ping’an called the foreman over and had Zhang Shi and Li Le quietly hide near the kitchen door and window.

  “You suspect an outsider?” Li Tinghui asked.

  Ji Ping’an nodded. “Just a test—can’t hurt. If it’s not an outsider, then after today’s scene, no one will dare try again.”

  “Mm.” Li Tinghui nodded and sat down beside her. They began sorting through the peony flowers in her basket. Dongchun tagged along, curious. Though she didn’t study medicine, she had nimble fingers and quickly learned how to keep the petals and roots intact.

  Curious, Dongchun picked up a piece of peony root and popped it into her mouth, only to spit it out immediately. She stuck out her tongue in embarrassment. “Ugh, that’s bitter.”

  Li Tinghui gave her a pyful gre. “It’s medicine. Medicine isn’t supposed to taste good.”

  Dongchun’s eyes sparkled. “But flower cakes taste good!”

  “You can make them?” Li Tinghui asked.

  Dongchun tilted her chin proudly. “I make really good ones.”

  “Then next time you make some for me.”

  Dongchun chirped, “Sure! I’ll make a whole basket next time.”

  Ji Ping’an smiled. “Then I’ll be waiting to taste it.”

  Just then, a shout came from the backyard. “Got her! Miss Ji, there really was a thief! Sneaking around the firewood pile—caught the scent and came out to steal!”

  Zhang Shi and Li Le dragged the thief forward, each holding one arm.

  On the way, Zhang Shi even kicked her twice. “You damn thief! Of all things to steal, you go for meat buns? Do you have any idea how hard it is to eat meat these days?”

  The thief was thin and frail, wrapped head to toe in a bck cloak. No matter how rough they were with her, she kept silent and endured it.

  Ji Ping’an immediately noticed the embroidered shoes on the person’s feet and quickly told Zhang Shi and Li Le to loosen their grip.

  She asked gently, “Are you a woman?”

  The figure trembled and lowered her head.

  Ji Ping’an continued, “Don’t be afraid. We’re not bad people. Are you hiding here because something happened?”

  The figure tensed for a moment, then gave a tiny nod.

  From under the cloak came a hoarse, broken voice. “Miss… I really had no choice. Please forgive me. Let me go.”

  “No choice?” Zhang Shi snapped, “You’ve been stealing for over ten days! No choice for ten days? My wife made those buns herself—with meat! She didn’t even eat one and saved them for me. And you ate them and still py the victim?”

  As he spoke, Zhang Shi yanked off the woman’s cloak. “Let’s see what kind of rat—AHHH! A ghost!”

  He fell to the ground in fright.

  Under the cloak, the woman’s lower face, neck, and arms were covered in ruptured boils and red rashes—ghastly and horrifying.

  Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui widened their eyes in shock, turning to look at each other instinctively.

  A venereal disease?

  Before anyone could react, the woman yanked her cloak back over herself and bolted toward the main gate.

  No! They couldn’t let her escape!

  Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui instinctively ran after her.

  Dongchun, panicked, took off after them as well.

  The woman stumbled and dashed wildly, like someone fleeing for her life, and soon reached the busy street.

  The streets of Bianjing were packed with people—vendors, pedestrians, and children everywhere.

  In that moment, the city’s liveliness became a deadly obstacle.

  “We’re not bad people—we’re doctors!” Li Tinghui shouted from behind. “If something’s wrong, tell us! We’ll help you!”

  But the woman clutched her cloak tightly over her face, running as if her life depended on it, showing no sign of stopping.

  “I’m the granddaughter of Doctor Li from Huichun Hall!” Li Tinghui yelled again.

  The moment she heard “Huichun Hall,” the woman turned her head—just in time to collide with a turning carriage.

  Thud.

  She crashed to the ground, coughing up blood.

  “Damn crazy woman!” the driver cursed, cracking his whip and striking her.

  “Apologies,” Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui caught up, gasping. “She’s a patient, terrified and disoriented. She didn’t see the noble’s carriage. We beg your forgiveness.”

  “And you think just saying sorry makes it okay? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  The carriage curtain lifted—Zhou Pingping gred down at Ji Ping’an with seething hatred.

  This vile woman!

  Because of her, she’d been locked in prison for so long—sick, underfed, and now so thin her clothes no longer fit properly.

  Ji Ping’an was stunned. What terrible luck.

  Li Tinghui and Dongchun immediately dropped to their knees.

  Ji Ping’an quickly bowed as well.

  After more than a month of damp, cramped confinement, Zhou Pingping’s heart was corroded like it had been soaked in acid, raw and bitter. She immediately pointed at Ji Ping’an. “You’re a merchant girl! And you don’t kneel when you see me?”

  Then she pointed at the woman in the cloak lying on the ground. “And this riffraff who crashed into my carriage! What, just because I’ve fallen on hard times, you think you can trample over me now?”

  Enemies always crossed paths. Zhou Pingping had long been waiting for a chance to take it out on someone. Ji Ping’an had no choice but to say, “I was cking in courtesy. If I’ve offended Miss Zhou, I’ll accept my punishment. But this woman is a patient who suddenly fell ill. I ask Miss Zhou to be lenient and allow Miss Li to take her away for treatment.”

  Dongchun quickly knelt. “Miss Zhou, my miss just arrived in Bianjing and doesn’t know all the rules yet. I’m her maid—mmph!”

  Ji Ping’an cmped a hand over Dongchun’s mouth.

  Useless.

  Just like with the Princess, Zhou Pingping was holding a grudge. In her eyes, Ji Ping’an was the culprit who had caused it all. If Dongchun stood up now, Zhou Pingping would only target her, too.

  No need to drag anyone else into this.

  “Well, since you admit your ck of courtesy, don’t bme me.”

  Zhou Pingping stepped down from the carriage and slowly walked up to Ji Ping’an. Her once round and delicate face had grown thin and sharp.

  She gred at Ji Ping’an like a venomous snake eyeing its prey.

  “You’re living in the Song family’s estate, so I’ll deliver your punishment personally.”

  She seethed with fury just looking at Ji Ping’an’s pretty face. Why was it that they’d both been imprisoned, but Ji Ping’an had come out radiant, lively, and well-fed, while she had been battered by the cold, starved on scraps, and turned into a ghost of her former self?

  She had never suffered such hardship in her life.

  Zhou Pingping raised her hand and aimed for Ji Ping’an’s face—that infuriatingly fwless face.

  But Ji Ping’an’s gaze shifted, catching sight of a familiar pair of embroidered shoes in the crowd. She held her breath, her face flushing red, and colpsed to the side.

  “Miss!” Dongchun panicked, going pale as a sheet and throwing herself over Ji Ping’an. “Miss! Please don’t scare me—Miss, wake up!”

  Li Tinghui could no longer stay silent. She raised her voice sharply. “Miss Zhou, we may be commoners without title or power, but this is too much. You’ve been told—she’s a patient. She didn’t hurt you. And Miss Ji is the one who’s been hurt, spitting blood, and unconscious! Why are you being so aggressive? Are you trying to drive her to death?”

  Zhou Pingping’s hand was still raised in midair, not yet swung down. Her eyes widened, long shes fluttering like butterfly wings. “What nonsense are you spouting? I didn’t even hit her yet!”

  “Miss Ji is in poor health and doesn’t have long to live—yet you insist on blowing up a trivial matter to make a scene!” Li Tinghui truly couldn’t stand these nobles. One by one, they all treated common lives as worthless.

  She turned to Dongchun. “Get up. Let’s take Miss Ji to Huichun Hall.”

  “You’re talking nonsense!” Zhou Pingping was even more furious. She hadn’t done anything, yet had been scolded up and down. Might as well go ahead and do something now.

  She spun around, snatched the whip from the carriage driver’s hand, and stepped in front of Li Tinghui and Dongchun, raising the whip high.

  Before it could fall, Song Zhiyin caught it.

  Bilu, Song Zhishu’s maid, also pushed through the crowd to let Song Zhishu in.

  Song Zhiyin lowered her gaze to the motionless Ji Ping’an on the ground, and her anger surged. “Miss Zhou, such a grand temper you have. First, you frame our Song family for disrespecting the Princess, and now you dare to strike our cousin in the middle of the street, in broad daylight? Do you really think our Song family is a doormat?”

  Song Zhishu was furious too. She pointed at Zhou Pingping. “What is your problem? What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much? First, my hairpin, then the gift switch for the Princess—what is it you want? Even if I somehow offended you, take it out on me. Why pick on my cousin? She’s frail—catching the slightest chill can put her in bed for days. Was all this really necessary?”

  “I… You…” Zhou Pingping was so angry, words failed her.

  It wasn’t her fault Ji Ping’an was weak and fainted at a scare. And yet everyone was bming her?

  Was there no justice in the world?

  Zhou Pingping gripped the whip tightly. “Fine! It’s all my fault. I’m unreasonable. I’m bullying her for no reason. Satisfied?”

  She tried to yank the whip back from Song Zhiyin, but Song Zhiyin snatched it and threw it to the ground. “Miss Li, Dongchun, take our cousin and that patient to the clinic.”

  “Yes, thank you, Miss Song.”

  Li Tinghui and Dongchun each supported one person and left quickly.

  “Song Zhiyin!” Zhou Pingping’s eyes were red with rage. “Your Song family—you're all so good at bullying others!”

  Song Zhiyin said coldly, “Isn’t it your Chengping Marquis Estate that throws its weight around?”

  “I’m the one bullying others?” Zhou Pingping’s chest heaved. “That Ji Ping’an is a liar! And all of you Song women are no good! You, Song Zhiyin, are arrogant and condescending. And you—”

  She pointed at Song Zhishu. “You, Song Zhishu, with that seductive face, always dressing up like some courtesan, trying to seduce every man in sight!”

  Song Zhiyin’s gaze snapped to Song Zhishu.

  Faced with her sister’s suspicious look, Song Zhishu immediately shook her head. “No, Third Sister, you have to believe me—I didn’t. I’ve always behaved properly, you’ve seen it yourself.”

  “You dare say no?” Zhou Pingping felt utterly wronged. First, Song Zhishu stole her fiancé, and now the whole Song family had thrown her into prison and wrongfully accused her again.

  Her eyes filled with tears, yet she held her noblewoman’s posture and gred at Song Zhishu. “Xue Zhifu. You dare say you don’t know him? That you didn’t seduce him?”

  “I didn’t!” Reputation meant everything to a woman—Song Zhishu didn’t hesitate. “I don’t even know who he is!”

  Zhou Pingping snapped, “You didn’t seduce him? Then why did he go straight to the Chengping Marquis’s estate to break off the engagement right after seeing you once at Liushu Pavilion? It’s obvious you threw yourself at him—”

  Smack!

  Song Zhiyin spped Zhou Pingping across the face.

  Zhou Pingping was stunned. It took her a while to recover. “You dare hit me? What do you think you are? How dare you?!”

  “So what if I hit you?” Song Zhiyin was shaking with anger, her slender body trembling. She stepped to the left, shielding Song Zhishu behind her. “To speak with such crude, filthy words—is this the kind of upbringing the Chengping Marquis Estate gives? My Song family’s daughters are beautiful, educated, and refined. If men admire them, that’s on the men. What does it have to do with my sister? You snder others based on malicious specution. You defame their reputations—shouldn’t I sp you for it?”

  “You—!”

  Zhou Pingping raised her hand to strike back, but Song Zhiyin grabbed her wrist and spped her again. “The first sp was for defaming the Song family. This one’s for falsely accusing us over the sachet incident.”

  With that, she flung Zhou Pingping’s hand aside, grabbed Song Zhishu, and left, leaving Zhou Pingping behind in a fit of rage.

  Song Zhishu’s eyes were red with tears. She sniffled softly. “I really didn’t do anything. I go to Liushu Pavilion because I like reading storybooks. I don’t even know who that Xue Zhifu is. Third Sister, I’m so gd you believe me.”

  Song Zhishu looked at Song Zhiyin with immense gratitude. Song Zhiyin let go of her hand. “I don’t believe you out of kindness. I did it to protect the Song family’s reputation. Do you think Zhou Pingping’s outburst today only stains your name? It affects all of us—including our brothers and my future marriages.”

  “I knew you weren’t being nice. Whatever! I didn’t do it. Believe me or not, I don’t care!”

  Song Zhishu stomped off.

  When she got home, she burst into tears and ran to vent to her birth mother, Xiao Man.

  Xiao Man set aside her embroidery and said, “I told you before, didn’t I? Behave properly. Don’t stir up trouble outside.”

  Song Zhishu froze. “Mother… You don’t believe me either?”

  Xiao Man said, “It’s not that I don’t believe you. But your behavior needs to be upright. If you hadn’t gone out reading those idle books, how would this have happened? How would you have ended up entangled with some outsider and offended Zhou Pingping by accident?”

  "Mother!" Song Zhishu was furious. "I'm your daughter! You're not protecting me—you’re bming me?"

  "Alright, alright, I won’t say anything more," said Xiao Man, gently wiping Song Zhishu’s tears with a handkerchief. "Look at you—your face is a mess from crying. What kind of appearance is that?"

  "I don’t want to cry either, but I’m really wronged," Song Zhishu sobbed.

  Xiao Man stroked her face and said softly, "Alright, dry your tears. What’s done is done. In a while, I’ll pick out some gifts—you go to the Chengping Marquis’s residence and apologize to Miss Zhou. Say your older sister only hit her to defend you. Let her vent her anger on you instead, and don’t bme your sister."

  Song Zhishu was stunned. "Mother, am I still your daughter? You’re not defending me, and you even want me to go apologize to that bck-hearted woman Zhou Pingping?"

  "What else can we do?" Xiao Man sighed bitterly. "Your sister spped Zhou Pingping, and Zhou Pingping is the Chengping Marquis’s treasured daughter. We can’t possibly push your sister out there, right? Besides, she’s your legitimate sister. As a concubine-born daughter, you’re supposed to take the fall. And besides, she only acted to protect you—this whole mess is your fault."

  "I never asked her to help me!"

  Song Zhishu shoved Xiao Man away. "You’re not my mother. I don’t have a mother who takes an outsider’s side over her own daughter!"

  With that, she stormed back to her room and smmed the door, refusing to see anyone.

  …

  In the clinic.

  Dongchun helped Ji Ping’an onto the bed, while Li Tinghui carefully moved the unconscious woman to another cot.

  Earlier, before Li Tinghui arrived, Dongchun had pretended to help Ji Ping’an swallow a medicinal pill. Ji Ping’an slowly came to, murmuring, "Have the clothes been changed? Disinfected? And the blood she vomited on the street—that has to be dealt with too."

  Venereal disease—syphilis in the old texts—was primarily transmitted through sex, though blood or childbirth could also carry it. The risk was low, but they couldn’t afford to endanger others.

  Li Tinghui replied, "I changed my clothes. On the way back, I had someone go notify my senior apprentices to clean up the street. Based on the time, they should be done by now."

  "Good." Ji Ping’an let out a breath of relief. "We’ll change too, and sterilize everything."

  Once they changed and disinfected, Ji Ping’an and Dongchun bought coarse hemp cloth to serve as makeshift medical robes. Li Tinghui wrote up a prescription based on the woman’s symptoms, boiled the medicine, and returned to help her drink it slowly.

  After more than half an hour, the woman finally opened her eyes.

  The unfamiliar setting filled her with terror. Like a frightened bird, she clutched her robe and curled into the corner. "Don’t kill me… please… don’t kill me…"

  "Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you," Ji Ping’an said gently. Seeing the woman still trembling, she added, "Think about it. If we meant to harm you, would we have gone through all this to save you?"

  The woman gnced at the medicine in Li Tinghui’s hand, but still cowered in silence, eyes wary.

  Ji Ping’an could hear her muttering, but her voice was too soft to make out clearly.

  "Speak a little louder," Ji Ping’an encouraged gently. "Take your time."

  After a long moment, the woman finally asked, "Who… are you?"

  Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui exchanged a gnce, then answered in unison, "We’re doctors. You’ve been hiding here for a while, so you must’ve come out and heard the workers talking. You should know this pce used to be a clinic, and we’re fixing it up to reopen. I’m Ji Ping’an, and this is Miss Li Tinghui. We’ll be the doctors here."

  The woman rexed slightly, loosening her grip on her robe. Her eyes, bloodshot and red-rimmed, peeked through.

  She was actually quite beautiful. Her eyes were luminous like silver blossoms. But the festering sores on her face had destroyed all that beauty.

  Ji Ping’an asked gently, "Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, can you tell us your name? Why have you been hiding here?"

  "I…" The woman’s voice was dry, like leather scraping against sand. "My name is Yu Liangying. People call me Yingying."

  After giving her name, she fell silent.

  Li Tinghui sighed and asked quietly, "Were you a flower courtesan from Zhangtai Alley?"

  At the words Zhangtai Alley, the woman began trembling again.

  "What’s a flower courtesan from Zhangtai Alley?" Ji Ping’an asked.

  Li Tinghui’s cheeks reddened, and her voice dropped, "It’s where officials and nobles spend money on women for their amusement."

  "A brothel?" Ji Ping’an blurted.

  Li Tinghui turned beet red. "You—Ji Ji—Miss Ji! Must you be so direct?"

  Ji Ping’an bowed her head, feigning bashfulness.

  If Yingying was an escaped prostitute, everything suddenly made sense.

  In brothels, life was chaotic and ruthless. Madams didn’t care about the girls’ health, only profit. It was no wonder Yu Liangying had contracted something so serious—and was terrified.

  Ji Ping’an remembered reading old articles that included interviews with prostitutes. Many suffered from diseases—some incurable. Once ill, they were still forced to work. If they caught venereal disease, nobles could afford mercury treatments, but the women couldn’t. They’d be forced to use red-hot irons to cauterize the sores and rashes. The rest… was up to fate.

  Wait.

  Festering sores. Rashes. Itching.

  A pce where nobles seek pleasure…

  Hadn’t Song Zhishu once said the Chengping Marquis enjoyed brothels?

  Venereal disease was primarily spread through sex.

  Could it be… Chengping Marquis and Chen Luoyan—

  Yu Liangying suddenly knelt on the bed, frantically kowtowing. "Miss, I beg you, please don’t turn me in. I swear, I only want to stay a few more days—just a few. I only want to see someone. Once I see him, I’ll go back to Chunhua House and turn myself in."

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Her forehead smashed into the bed, drawing blood.

  Li Tinghui asked, "Who do you want to see?"

  Yu Liangying cried, "My son. I just want to see him one st time—just once. My illness is incurable. No doctor would ever treat someone like me. I went through so much to escape. I just want to see Xiaobao one st time. I’ve waited here for so long… but I haven’t seen him. Miss, everything I said is true. I swear. After I see him, I’ll go back to Chunhua House and turn myself in."

  Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui fell silent.

  Ji Ping’an recalled the memoirs she had read from prostitutes who survived the early founding years of the nation. Many said that as soon as a woman began menstruating, she would be forcibly given sterilization drugs. Of course, the drugs weren’t foolproof—some still got pregnant—but when they did, thugs would forcibly abort the child. It was clear how hard it must have been to carry a baby to term under such circumstances.

  Just as Ji Ping’an was about to speak, Li Tinghui said to Yu Liangying, “We need to discuss this.”

  She pulled Ji Ping’an outside. “Miss Ji, are you pnning to treat her?”

  “Technically, her illness can be treated…” Ji Ping’an began, but Li Tinghui cut in, startled. “You mean syphilis can be cured?”

  “It’s not exactly that it can be cured…” Ji Ping’an trailed off, unsure how to expin.

  If this were the modern era, a long-acting penicillin injection would have a high chance of curing it.

  But in this time period, where was she supposed to find penicillin, let alone long-acting penicillin?

  In some fictional stories, characters are portrayed as being able to produce penicillin by hand, but the reality is much more complex. She recalled a drama where they used rice broth as a medium; however, that method yielded penicillin with an exceptionally low concentration—barely 4 Oxford units per milliliter—while the maximum for rice broth seldom exceeded 25 units. Corn steep liquor was a more effective alternative, but in this era, sourcing it posed a significant challenge. A single dose of long-acting penicillin required a staggering 1.2 million units.

  Penicillin also needed a stable 24°C environment to ferment properly. It was te spring now, almost summer, but the temperature still wasn’t ideal.

  And then there were the impurities. Without any instruments, how could she guarantee the extract would be safe and free of contaminants?

  Even in that drama, Famous Doctor, the main character had already traveled to a retively modern time with some tech, and he even brought syringes and medical tools with him.

  Most novels gave protagonists a cheat or a system to ensure their penicillin worked.

  But she had nothing. She didn’t even know how to make a syringe.

  The rest of the syringe components might be cobbled together, but the needle? That was another problem entirely.

  Li Tinghui didn’t know what was going through Ji Ping’an’s mind and asked again, “So… do you still want to try treating her?”

  Ji Ping’an blinked. “What? Why do you keep asking?”

  Li Tinghui replied, “Most doctors won’t treat women from Zhangtai Alley. The ones who do are usually low-tier street doctors.”

  Reputation mattered in this line of work. No respectable physician wanted to be associated with a red-light district. Even those unlicensed ‘bck doctors’ rarely accepted patients from there, and the brothels offered such meager payments that few found it worth the risk.

  Li Tinghui asked again, “So… Miss Ji, are you still going to try?”

  Ji Ping’an was too lost in her own thoughts about penicillin to truly register what she was being asked. Distracted, she murmured, “Let’s try. We should at least try. We can’t just stand by and watch someone die.”

  Li Tinghui bit her lip hard, clutching the hem of her dress tightly. A woman from Zhangtai Alley with syphilis—if word of this got out, neither of them, both unmarried young women, could ever expin their way out of it.

  Ugh! If Miss Ji isn’t afraid, what am I afraid of?

  Fine, then. Whatever happens, happens!

  At that moment, the foreman passed by the gate for the third time, and seeing that the two girls weren’t talking anymore and just standing there in silence, he called out, “Miss Ji?”

  His voice snapped Ji Ping’an out of her thoughts.

  “What is it?” she asked, walking over.