Ji Yu brought over the brewed medicine and walked to the bedside. Since Nan Xing’s injuries had worsened considerably, she had no choice but to feed him personally.
He was extremely weak. Every so often, he would cough while drinking the medicine, causing Ji Yu’s heart to clench in fear that he might spit up blood again.
After taking the medicine, Nan Xing lay back to rest. His breathing was uneven, and the wound in his chest throbbed with searing pain. Yet, he did not regret pushing himself so hard that his injuries became worse. As long as Miss Ji pitied him, saw him as helpless and wretched, and chose to keep him by her side—that was all that mattered.
Ji Yu rummaged through the bookshelf in her father’s room for quite some time. She found several volumes detailing Miao medical techniques and poison arts, and tucked away in a corner, several handwritten journals that belonged to her late mother.
“Strange… why is the top book so clean while the ones underneath are covered in dust? Shouldn’t the one on top have the most dust?” she murmured softly to herself as she flipped through the pages.
Nan Xing had always possessed sharp hearing. Even in his weakened state, he caught every word.
The reason the first book was spotless was because he had handled it. It wasn’t that he was looking for anything in particular; a few days ago, while lying in bed out of boredom, he had simply wanted something to read to pass the time.
He had gone through almost all the books on the shelf. As Ji Yu had noticed, her family owned mostly medical texts, and the shelves were indeed filled with them.
However, he had unexpectedly discovered several books on Miao medicine tucked away in the corner. They detailed various poisons and techniques. Alongside them were the journals, signed with the name Lan Ying.
Lan was a surname unique to the Miao people.
Since Miss Ji had mentioned her mother was from Miao Jiang, the signature “Lan Ying” must be her mother’s name. His guess was correct.
If Miss Ji could truly cure the poison within him, it would be nothing short of a miracle. He would finally be free from that person’s control, no longer bound by shackles. He wouldn’t have to endure that agonizing torture every month, nor drink that repulsive medicine ever again.
*Can she really do it?* Nan Xing’s gaze slowly settled on Ji Yu, a flicker of hope shining deep within his eyes.
Ji Yu skimmed through the books, discovering descriptions of many mysterious and potent poisons. If she read them all carefully, she might be able to identify exactly what kind of poison afflicted Qi Yu. Even if the main books didn’t hold the answer, her mother’s journals might.
The texts mentioned that women of Miao Jiang were renowned for their medical skills, particularly their mastery of poisons. It was said that almost every woman possessed some knowledge of healing and toxins, though the level of expertise varied greatly depending on talent—much like painting, where natural aptitude made all the difference.
The rain gradually lightened, and the night grew deeper. The candle was burning down to its end. Holding a stack of books, Ji Yu turned to the man on the bed.
“It’s late. Get some rest. If you need anything, just call out—I’ll be able to hear you from the room across the hall.”
“Alright.”
***
Returning to her own room, Ji Yu began to study the texts intently, searching for clues regarding Nan Xing’s condition.
The symptoms during his episodes were distinct: eyes turning blood-red, crimson veins spreading across his skin, a state of violent madness, and immense physical strength…
Following these clues, she should be able to find a match.
Outside, the rain surged and waned repeatedly throughout the night. Candles burned out and were replaced one after another. Time slipped by silently until she was jolted awake by a loud “Honk! Honk!” right beside her ear.
“Ouch! My arm’s gone numb!” Ji Yu grimaced in pain. Carefully supporting her stiff left arm, she walked to the window and opened it. A goose’s head suddenly poked inside, startling her.
“Honk!” it cried cheerfully, flapping its wings before perching on the windowsill.
Ji Yu checked the sky. It was still early, barely dawn. The rain that had fallen all night hadn’t stopped, lingering as a fine drizzle.
She exhaled, shook the feeling back into her arm, and gently patted the goose’s head before hurrying to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
“Honk! Honk!” The goose followed closely behind her, chattering nonstop.
As she lit the stove to boil water, Ji Yu glanced back and couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry, this water isn’t for cooking *you*. I have no intention of taking your life today.”
Relieved that it wasn’t on the menu, the goose let out a happy cry, flapped its wings, and waddled off to splash in the puddles in the courtyard.
For breakfast, Ji Yu made congee with greens and lean meat, along with two fried eggs. She first brought hot water for Nan Xing to wash up, then served the meal.
The red veins on his face had faded significantly; he no longer looked frightening. His demeanor was calm, returning to that gentle, refined appearance he usually wore. Ji Yu felt relieved—things were finally moving in the right direction.
She had spent nearly the entire night reading, finishing all the Miao medical texts. Since she was specifically looking for information on his condition, she had read very carefully. She found no direct matches in the main books, but discovered records of similar poisons in her mother’s journals.
Similar, but not identical. It wasn’t enough. It seemed after finishing the portrait for Miss Zhong, she would have to make a trip to the bookstore.
***
At the main gate of the Zhong residence.
The doorman read the letter Ji Yu handed him, then immediately invited her inside with great respect, calling for a maid to guide the way.
Inside, the young mistress had already made a huge fuss over the previous painters. Now here came another one, sent by the young master. The last painter, Master Yin, had already displeased her greatly. This new one looked so young—surely no comparison to Master Yin. The doorman sighed, shaking his head as he watched her leave, already pitying the poor artist who was likely about to get a beating.
Passing through ornate buildings and covered walkways, Ji Yu was led to the back garden. In a pavilion not far away, a graceful figure was feeding fish by the pond. Two other maids stood nearby—this must be Miss Zhong.
“Master Ji, the Miss is in the pavilion ahead. I shall take my leave now,” the guide said.
“Thank you for your help,” Ji Yu replied with a polite bow.
After the maid left, Ji Yu straightened her clothes and noticed her shoes were covered in mud. She quickly wiped them clean on the grass, and only when she looked presentable did she walk toward the pavilion.
It wasn’t quite summer yet, and the pond was still filled with withered lotus leaves, looking somewhat out of place amidst the blooming flowers of the garden.
Just as she reached the pavilion, she was stopped by a maid.
“Who are you?”
Her voice caused Zhong Ling’er, who was feeding the fish, to turn around. She looked at Ji Yu with curiosity.
Ji Yu clasped her hands in greeting. “I am Ji Yu, invited by Master Zhong to paint a portrait for Miss Zhong.”
“My brother invited you?” Zhong Ling’er handed the bowl to a servant and stepped forward. She looked Ji Yu up and down, noting that she seemed even younger than herself. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen? You’re actually a year younger than me. Are you sure you can paint something I’ll be satisfied with?” Zhong Ling’er glanced at her dismissively and sat on a stone bench. A maid quickly poured her a cup of flower tea.
She took a sip, picked up a piece of peach pastry, and continued after swallowing, “I suggest you leave while you can. Don’t waste your time, because if you paint something ugly and anger me, you’ll definitely get caned!”
She was in a good mood today, hence the warning. The previous painters had all been so arrogant, certain their work would please her.
Hmph! The portraits they painted were hideous, capturing less than a tenth of her beauty. They dared to boast while taking so much silver—getting ten strokes of the cane was being lenient!
Ji Yu smiled calmly and took a scroll out of her wooden case. It was small enough to fit perfectly inside.
Under Zhong Ling’er’s curious gaze, she unfurled the painting. A stunning image of a beauty amidst flowers was revealed before their eyes.