“Miss Xue has arrived!”
At the servant’s cry, Nanny Cui, her eyes red with worry, rushed to the gate. There she saw a carriage draped in blue curtains, a lantern bearing the character *Xue* swaying gently, as it halted before the gates of Earl Shou’an’s residence.
Through the swirling snow, a young woman stepped gracefully down from the carriage. She wore a white fox-fur cloak embroidered with orchid patterns, beneath it a pale green robe patterned with magnolia vines. In the wintry night, her jade-like complexion and refined features shone with a serene brilliance, like a spring orchid blooming amidst the frost. Yet her brows were faintly furrowed, her starry eyes filled with concern—the very image of a healer’s compassion.
Nanny Cui snatched up an oil-paper umbrella and hurried forward. “Miss Xue, at last you’ve come. Forgive us for troubling you so late, and in such heavy snow. Were it not that my young lady’s life hangs by a thread, we would never have dared summon you. Please, come inside quickly…”
Though Nanny Cui was the trusted stewardess of the Earl’s wife, she spoke with utmost humility because this young woman was not only the newly acknowledged eldest daughter of the prestigious Xue clan but also the most renowned female physician in Chang’an.
The Xue family of Pingkang Ward was a noble house of Hedong, with ancestors who had produced four empresses. Even the current Crown Princess hailed from the Xue clan. Yet seventeen years ago, the family’s eldest daughter, Xue Ling, was abducted and vanished without a trace. Only two months ago, her uncle Jian Bocheng, Governor of Prefecture Xu, had found her. After many twists of fate, she returned to Chang’an three days past. To the astonishment of the capital, the missing daughter of the Xue clan was none other than the famed healer of the martial world—known as the “Magnolia Hand.”
Three years earlier, the master of the Liedao Sect, Zheng Qianshan, had been poisoned and lay dying. No physician could save him, and after seven days, his sect prepared for burial. Then a young woman in a green dress embroidered with magnolia blossoms appeared, offering to attempt a cure. After a day and night, Zheng Qianshan miraculously revived. She left without giving her name, but her magnolia-patterned attire earned her the title “Magnolia Hand.” From then on, wherever she traveled, her cures were swift and certain, and her reputation grew ever brighter.
Now, as Nanny Cui led her through the lofty gates, she said gratefully:
“We had heard that the Censor-in-Chief disapproved of you making night calls, yet you still came. Such kindness, our household will never forget.”
The Xue clan was a family of strict propriety. Its head, Xue Qi, served as Censor-in-Chief, charged with overseeing all officials. Though he did not forbid his daughter from practicing medicine, Chang’an was not the free-roaming martial world. For a noblewoman to venture out at midnight could invite scandal—and censure upon himself. Yet here she was, near the hour of midnight, answering the call. How could Nanny Cui not be moved?
But what outsiders did not know was that this woman cared little for the Xue clan’s rules—or for the risk of impeachment against Xue Qi— because she was not Xue Ling at all.
Her true name was Jiang Li. Five years ago, she had been half a noblewoman of Chang’an until calamity cast her into the martial world. Long had she sought a convenient identity to return to the capital, and at last she had taken Xue Ling’s place. Softly she said, “A life is at stake. Saving her must come first.”
Nanny Cui quickened her pace, unable to hide her urgency. Jiang Li followed, robes fluttering, and asked gravely: “You said your young lady is at death’s door. What illness afflicts her?”
Nanny Cui shook her head. “It is not illness… She suffered a grave accident today. You will see soon enough.” Then, pleading earnestly:
“You are our only hope. But whatever you witness, I beg you to keep it secret. She is to be married at the start of next month.”
Earl Shou’an’s household had declined in recent years. Lord Fu Sheng held no office; his son Fu Yunheng, at eighteen, was mediocre and served only in the Imperial Guards. His eldest daughter, Fu Yunci, twenty-one, had long been betrothed to Xu Lingze, son of the General of the Patrol Corps. Childhood sweethearts, deeply devoted, they had set their wedding for the first day of the twelfth month—just nineteen days away.
Years ago, before her fall, Jiang Li had studied at Bailu Academy alongside Fu Yunci, and the two had become close friends. Thus, when summoned half an hour ago to save her, Jiang Li had agreed without hesitation. Yet to find the Earl’s daughter gravely injured was a shock indeed.
As they hurried north through winding corridors, the mansion gleamed with festive red silk and lanterns, all prepared for the coming wedding. But in the howling wind and snow, only the hurried footsteps of a few echoed heavy and grim. At last, a brightly lit courtyard came into view.
Nanny Cui ran ahead. “Quickly, tell the Earl and Madam—Miss Xue has arrived!”
Jiang Li had brought only a few attendants, among them her trusted aide Huai Xi, a petite girl of thirteen or fourteen, sweet-faced and lively. She carried the physician’s box, curious what injury the young lady had suffered.
Moments later, a man in brocade robes, past forty, came rushing out—it was Earl Fu Sheng himself. Seeing Jiang Li so young, doubt flickered in his eyes, but he bowed deeply: “Miss Xue, please save my daughter. She is fading fast!”
Jiang Li’s expression hardened. She strode swiftly into the main hall. At once, her eyes fell upon bloodstains spattered across the ornate carpet, stark and shocking. Without pause, she hastened toward the inner chamber.
“Ah Ci! It is your mother—”
With a mournful cry, the stench of blood filled the air. Jiang Li stepped quickly to the northern side of the bed and saw Fu Yunci, drenched in cold sweat, her black hair disheveled, struggling in delirium upon the couch. She wore only a plain white under-robe, its collar soaked through with spreading crimson. Madam Liu pressed down her arm, while two tearful maids restrained her shoulders and legs. Even with all three combined, they could not hold her. Terror was etched across her face, as though the hands upon her belonged to demons or beasts.
“No… don’t touch me…”
“Stay away…”
Jiang Li swiftly shed her cloak, rolled up her sleeves, and stepped forward. “Madam, leave her to me.”
Madam Liu retreated two steps. “Miss Xue, I beg you—save my daughter…”
Jiang Li’s gaze grew grave. She first took Fu Yunci’s wrist to feel her pulse, but then noticed the bruising at her temple and lips, and, lowering her eyes, saw the dark purples marring her half-bared shoulder. Her brows knit tightly. As she loosened the bloodstained collar, a chill ran down her spine.
The wound lay across Fu Yunci’s chest, crudely bandaged, but her thrashing had torn the bindings loose, and blood seeped like ink. Worse still, upon the upper swell of her breast, two livid finger-marks stood out, shocking in their clarity.
Jiang Li’s voice rang firm: “Huai Xi, the needle case.”
“Mother… Mother, save me…”
“Mother…”
Sensing strangers near, Fu Yunci’s panic only deepened. Despair drove her to struggle harder, though each movement wracked her body with pain. Jiang Li pressed her shoulder, located the points of Ben Shen, Tian Chong, and Shen Ting, and drove the needles in.
Fu Yunci’s cries softened; her resistance weakened. Jiang Li then pricked the Yangming, Shaoyin, and Shaoyang points of her hand. Within moments, Fu Yunci collapsed, utterly spent.
Jiang Li uncovered the wound. It ran more than an inch long, deep enough to bare bone. Though medicine had been applied, the blood had washed it away. Her tone was low and steady: “Miss Fu has been injured for at least two hours. Aside from this sanqi powder to staunch bleeding, what else have you used?”
Nanny Cui answered, “We gave her the Heart-Replenishing Life-Preserving Pill and fed her ginseng broth.”
Jiang Li’s eyes widened. “Such a grave wound—and you treated it yourselves?”
Madam Liu’s voice broke. “Miss Xue, you see her state. We dared not summon outsiders. Cuiyun has studied some medicine, so we tried first. Did we delay too long? I beg you, please save Ah Ci…”
In noble households, privacy was paramount. Fu Yunci’s injuries could not be shown lightly. They had turned to Jiang Li for three reasons: she was a woman physician—lowly regarded in this age, and rare in Chang’an; her skill was renowned, perhaps the only hope for such a wound; and, newly returned to the capital, she knew few people and could be trusted to keep silent.
Jiang Li asked briskly, “Does the residence have a pharmacy?”
When the old nanny nodded, she immediately said, “Prepare medicine according to two prescriptions.”
Nanny Cui hurried to fetch paper and brush. “Please, speak.”
Jiang Li dictated firmly, “First prescription: five qian each of ephedra and ligusticum, three qian each of dried ginger, ginseng, angelica, cinnamon bark, and licorice, four qian of apricot kernels. Boil three bowls down to one, and deliver it at once. Second prescription: five qian each of arisaema, dragon’s blood, and safflower; eight qian of myrrh; nine nux vomica seeds; three qian each of fossilized dragon bone, notopterygium, crab shell, and angelica; one liang of purified frankincense. Grind into powder and send it here.”
Fu Yunci no longer struggled, but her breathing grew weaker by the moment. After giving the prescriptions, Jiang Li examined her thoroughly. At last, her tightly furrowed brows eased a little. Though Fu Yunci’s body bore many bruises, the only fatal wound was on her chest—she had not been violated.
Jiang Li said gravely, “Miss Fu’s injury has damaged her cardiac meridian. Combined with shock and heavy blood loss, her life is in peril. I will use the Life-Sustaining Decoction to warm and replenish her vitality, invigorate the blood, and restore qi. The second prescription will staunch bleeding. Later, I will cleanse the wound, suture it, and apply acupuncture at Daling, Shenmen, and Ximen to protect her heart. If she awakens within three hours, she will have passed this trial. If not… it will depend on Heaven’s will.”
Madam Liu wept as though her very entrails were torn apart, while Fu Sheng stood at the doorway, grief-stricken.
Nanny Cui went herself to prepare the medicine. Jiang Li threaded a needle with mulberry silk and instructed Huai Xi, “Ma Fei San (anesthetic) and wine.”
Huai Xi handed her a prepared pill. Jiang Li, after a moment’s thought, took another.
Huai Xi looked startled, but Jiang Li offered no explanation—she deftly fed both anesthetic pills to Fu Yunci.
After waiting a short while, Jiang Li cleansed the wound with strong liquor and stitched it closed. During the procedure, Fu Yunci stirred briefly from the pain, still calling out to Madam Liu for help. Jiang Li’s heart twisted like it was on fire, but remembering Nanny Cui’s instructions, she forced herself to remain silent.
A quarter of an hour later, the hemostatic powder arrived. Jiang Li applied it, rebandaged the wound, and performed acupuncture to stabilize her heart. When the Life-Sustaining Decoction was ready, the maid Dan Feng dressed Fu Yunci properly and helped her drink half a cup.
Madam Liu and Fu Sheng stared at her, desperate to read some hope in her expression. But after a long moment, Jiang Li shook her head. “Her pulse is faint and fragile. Tonight will decide whether she survives.”
Madam Liu, stricken with grief, pleaded, “It grows late. Might you remain here for the night? If Ah Ci falters, your presence would give us a chance.”
Jiang Li glanced at the sky, then nodded. “I would not feel at ease leaving now. Please send word to my household guards; have them come to fetch me tomorrow at the hour of Yin.”
Madam Liu, deeply grateful, quickly ordered Dan Feng to deliver the message.
Dan Feng hurried out but returned moments later, face full of worry. “Master, Madam—the heir has returned, and he has brought others with him.”
Fu Sheng and Madam Liu froze, a look of dread crossing their faces.
Fu Sheng ground his teeth. “Could it be that he truly…” He broke off mid-sentence, already striding away. Madam Liu wiped her tears and followed in haste.
Jiang Li, unaware of the inner matter, only gazed quietly at Fu Yunci.
She had known Fu Yunci for eight years. Back then, the young lady of the Earl’s household was but thirteen, already graceful and poised. Learned from childhood, gentle and serene, she was half a year older than Jiang Li and always looked after her. In Jiang Li’s memory, she was the softest moonlight in Chang’an. Even when distance separated them, the thought of her brought warmth. Yet now, time had changed everything—she lay here like a broken doll.
A chill glimmer flickered in Jiang Li’s eyes. What had she endured?
“Father, Mother—the gatekeeper said Miss Xue has been here for some time. How is Sister?”
A clear male voice rang out. It was the heir, Fu Yunheng, who returned. He wore no cloak, snow dusting his hair and shoulders, his cheeks flushed red from the cold.
Fu Sheng did not answer but instead demanded, “Where have you been?”
Fu Yunheng replied, “I went to the Court of Judicial Review to—”
“You truly went?!” Fu Sheng erupted in fury. “Do you mean to ruin your sister? If word of this spreads, how will she ever marry?”
Fu Yunheng faltered, then protested, “Father, Sister is gravely wounded. Shall we guard our reputation and not seek justice? You know what has happened these past six months. That villain is ruthless, intent on killing her. If Sister truly perishes today, then half a month from now we’ll be dragging her body from the city moat—”
“Silence! You are utterly—”
“Earl Shou’an, calm yourself.”
“Today I come in my own name.”
Fu Sheng was so enraged that his vision went dark, but suddenly a clear, gentle voice rang out from beyond the door.
Fu Sheng froze. “Is that the heir of the Pei family?”
When the door was fully opened, a young nobleman appeared in the courtyard, draped in a pale fox-fur cloak patterned with bamboo branches. His sword-like brows and phoenix eyes, his temples sharp as if carved by a blade—neither the cold night nor the falling snow could diminish his bearing. At his side stood only a single attendant holding an umbrella; no officials from the Court of Judicial Review were in sight.
Fu Sheng bowed. “My lord, forgive me for not welcoming you sooner. Please, come inside.”
The young nobleman stepped forward at a measured pace. Once inside, his tone grew solemn: “Uncle, I understand your worries. But since June, five brides-to-be have already been slain. Everyone knows that on the first day of next month, Miss Fu is to wed General Xu’s son. Yet Yunheng tells me her wound today is in the same place as those victims—near the heart. This cannot help but raise suspicion that she has fallen prey to that ruthless ‘Bride Butcher.’”
Madam Liu’s face turned pale. The visitor continued: “If it is indeed that criminal, then as the only one to survive, Miss Fu is not merely a victim—she is the most crucial witness, who may help the authorities capture him. And if her assailant was someone else, then she still deserves justice, and the culprit must be found swiftly.”
Fu Sheng replied bitterly: “My lord, both the Court of Judicial Review and the Imperial Guards are already investigating. You know better than anyone how this case has shaken the entire city. My daughter, though gravely wounded, remains chaste. But if word spreads, who will care what she truly suffered? Her reputation will be ruined—how could she face the world then?”
He sighed heavily. “Besides, her life hangs by a thread. We cannot even know when she will wake. How could she possibly have the strength to testify? I beg you, do not press us further.”
The nobleman’s voice steadied: “Rest assured, Uncle. I came alone today precisely because Yunheng explained your fears. I promise that nothing I witness here will be recorded, nor will any other official learn of it. Miss Fu must first be brought back from the brink. But I hear you have invited Miss Xue, newly returned to Chang’an, to treat her wounds. I only ask for her assistance.”
Hearing this pledge, Fu Sheng and Madam Liu exchanged a glance, their resistance softening. Together, they turned toward the inner chamber.
Inside, Jiang Li had heard every word clearly. Her heart trembled—so it was true: Fu Yunci might have been attacked by the very killer who had thrown all of Chang’an into terror, the Bride Butcher. And she had never imagined that this was how she would meet Pei Yan again.