It was another official rest day, and the weather was perfect—bright sunshine and gentle breezes.
This time, however, Jiang Xingzhou did not get to enjoy the same intimate and sweet time as before. Feng Yi had gone out early in the morning with He Yun and Yangyang.
On East Fortune Street, the crowds were thick and the scene was lively and bustling.
Yangyang’s round, bright eyes darted left and right, taking in everything at once, while her small mouth kept letting out exclamations of “Wow!”
“Auntie, Auntie!” She suddenly tugged at Feng Yi’s sleeve, pointing a chubby finger toward a stall by the roadside. “Look at the dough figurines—they are so beautiful!”
“Come on, then,” Feng Yi took her from He Yun’s arms. “Auntie will help you pick one.”
“A-Yi, you mustn’t spoil her too much,” He Yun gently advised. It was not that she was unwilling to spend money; the He family had once been renowned physicians in Chengdu Prefecture, and while not wealthy enough to rival the richest in the region, they still had considerable means. She was only concerned that Yangyang would grow up with careless spending habits.
“It’s no harm, Yun Niang. It’s a rare treat—just this once, and never again,” Feng Yi replied. Having long played the role of He Yun’s “husband,” she had developed an instinctive habit of deferring to her. As long as it was not a matter of principle, she would always agree to whatever He Yun said.
“Mother, please, please?” Yangyang grabbed the hem of He Yun’s sleeve and shook it pleadingly, holding up one tiny finger. “Just this one time, okay?”
“Ah, very well,” He Yun sighed, giving in. “I really don’t know what to do with you two… father… aunt and niece. Just remember, this is the only time.”
She nearly blurted out the word “father” but caught herself just in time.
Feng Yi acted as if she had noticed nothing, and simply clapped hands with Yangyang in delight. “Yay!”
Accompanied by their maids, the three of them wandered slowly, stopping whenever something caught their eye, and enjoyed the day thoroughly. By the time they stepped into the Golden and Jade Restaurant at noon, Ting Yun and the other servants were already carrying an armful of toys and trinkets.
“Good day, ladies—how many in your party?” the waiter greeted them with a wide smile.
“Six of us. Do you have a private room available?”
“You’ve come at just the right moment—one has just been freed up,” the waiter said, stepping aside to lead the way. “Please follow me upstairs.”
Once all the dishes were served, the group, tired from their walk, settled down to eat. After finishing her second bowl of rice, Yangyang reached out to ask for more, but He Yun gently stopped her. “No more, little one—you’ll get a stomach ache if you eat too much.”
“Auntie…” Yangyang knew exactly how things worked. If her aunt agreed, her mother would never say no.
“Not this time,” Feng Yi said, ignoring her puppy-eyed plea and pinching her soft cheek. “You have to listen to your mother today. Any more, and your tummy will feel sore and uncomfortable.”
Yangyang let out a disappointed “Oh” and obediently put down her spoon.
Just then, a sudden commotion broke out from the main hall downstairs.
“Little one, little one—what’s wrong with you?”
“Help! Someone help us!”
“Hurry, reach into her throat and make her vomit!”
Feng Yi and He Yun exchanged a quick glance and immediately pulled open the door of their room. Guests from other private chambers had also stepped out to see what was happening. Downstairs, the hall was packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could have squeezed through. People were talking over one another, creating a chaotic scene. In the center of the crowd, at one table, a little girl of about five or six years old was choking, her small face already turning a deep shade of purple.
“Ting Yun, hold Yangyang carefully,” Feng Yi instructed quickly, before rushing downstairs with He Yun.
“Make way—everyone, stand back!” They pushed through the crowd as best they could. “Don’t crowd around her—she needs air to breathe.”
Seeing that people still refused to move apart, He Yun raised her voice and called out, “I am a physician—please, let us through!”
When lives were at stake, the word “physician” had immediate effect. The crowd instinctively parted to make a narrow path.
He Yun seized the child’s wrist and felt her pulse, then looked up sharply. “Her pulse is fading fast.”
Hearing this, the little girl’s mother’s legs gave way, and she nearly collapsed, repeating in a daze, “Save her… please save my daughter…”
Feng Yi stepped forward and caught the woman to steady her, speaking rapidly. “What did she eat?”
“A plum.”
Feng Yi immediately moved behind the child and wrapped both arms around her waist. Ignoring the stains on the girl’s clothes from earlier attempts to force her to vomit, she made a fist with one hand and pressed it firmly against the spot two finger-widths above the navel. She covered her fist with her other hand and pressed hard inward and upward.
“Is… is this even going to work?”
“It looks so improper.”
“Quite indecent…”
“Thank goodness the one helping is also a woman—otherwise, the child’s reputation would be ruined…”
Cough…
With Feng Yi’s tenth strong squeeze, the plum finally shot out of the child’s throat. Her airway cleared instantly, and she gasped for a huge breath of air before throwing herself into her mother’s arms, crying in fright and relief.
Only then did Feng Yi turn around, taking a damp cloth from one of the attendants to wipe her hands. Behind her, a heavy thud made her jump. Looking back, she saw the mother kneeling on the floor holding her child. She quickly bent to help her up. “It was nothing—just a small favor. Please, you don’t need to bow.”
She then turned to He Yun. “Yun Niang, please check her over thoroughly to make sure she is all right.”
He Yun felt the girl’s pulse again and, after a moment, smiled reassuringly. “She is fine now. Her throat may feel a little swollen and sore, and her voice might be hoarse for a day or two—just have her drink plenty of warm water. If you are still worried, you can visit a clinic and get a prescription to soothe the throat and clear the lungs.”
“Thank you, saviors—thank you both so much!” The mother wept as she spoke, her gratitude overflowing.
The crowd continued to murmur among themselves. Some, who understood the situation, praised them, saying that saving a life was worth more than building a seven-story pagoda. Others, however—well-dressed and seemingly educated—argued that if it were them, they would rather die than be treated in such an undignified manner.
Feng Yi’s eyebrows drew together in annoyance, and she was about to speak up in defense when a clear, resonant male voice rang out from the second floor, cutting through the noise.
“Master Meng once said: ‘It is proper etiquette for men and women not to touch hands when passing things; but if one’s sister-in-law is drowning, reaching out to save her is a matter of necessity.’ Among the four virtues—benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom—benevolence stands first. Does this gentleman’s remark mean he questions the wisdom of the sages, or the compassionate heart of a true human being?”
Feng Yi and everyone else looked up. Leaning against the railing of the upper floor stood a handsome young gentleman, dressed in a deep blue brocade robe embroidered with cloud patterns, with wide sleeves. He stood as straight as a bamboo stalk, his eyebrows sharp and his eyes bright, his manner gentle yet dignified, and his gaze clear and upright.
“I would never dare question the sages,” the critic stammered, his face flushing. “I only meant that in such a situation, the child should have been carried to a private room for treatment, rather than handled in public where everyone could see.”
“Might I ask, sir, if your eyesight is failing you?” Feng Yi called out. “Did you not see the child’s face turning purple? In such a critical moment, you would waste precious time moving her? If something had gone wrong, would you be willing to take responsibility for the outcome?”
“You…!” The man turned red with anger and flung his sleeve aside. “As the saying goes, women and petty men are the hardest to deal with—you are twisting words to make your point.”
“A gentleman’s way is to listen only to what is proper, speak only what is proper, and look only upon what is proper,” the young man in blue replied calmly. “If you find this action improper, you should have turned away and left, instead of standing here criticizing and arguing just to win a pointless debate.”
He then turned to Feng Yi and He Yun. “In my opinion, these two ladies feared no mess or dirt, and disregarded social conventions for the sake of saving a life. That is true benevolence and righteousness. Do you not all agree?”
Hearing his words, and looking again at the poise and bearing of the two women—especially Feng Yi, who was clearly no ordinary commoner yet had not hesitated to lower herself to help—the crowd’s attitude shifted instantly. Words of praise rose up all around. The man who had criticized them earlier turned bright red and slipped away in embarrassment, fearing he had offended someone of high standing.
“Thank you for your kind words—we are far from deserving such praise,” Feng Yi said, softening her sharpness into a gentle and polite smile. “I wonder if everyone here has seen clearly what was done to help the child? If any of you ever face a similar emergency, this method may well save a life.”
Her words caused a murmur of surprise. Usually, life-saving techniques were treated as precious secrets by physicians, passed down only within their own families. Yet this young woman was willing to teach it openly in front of everyone? For a moment, the crowd looked at her with mixed feelings—unsure whether to think her foolish or admire her generosity and open heart.
An elderly man spoke up cautiously. “Young lady, do your elders at home agree to let you share such knowledge with strangers?”
The rest of the crowd turned to look at him, silently wishing he would stay silent.
He Yun stepped forward and smiled. “Thank you, sir. My father is a physician with a kind heart. His greatest wish in life is to see fewer people suffer from illness and pain. He has already given his full permission.”
Feng Yi then explained in detail the key points, hand positions, and direction of pressure, before turning to go back upstairs. What she did not see was that the young man in blue was still leaning against the railing, watching her intently, a faint smile playing on his lips.
When she reached the second floor, Feng Yi gave him a polite curtsy. “Thank you, sir, for speaking up on our behalf.”
The young man bowed in return, his smile deepening. “It was nothing—just a small favor,” he replied, using the very words she had spoken earlier.
Hearing him echo her own words back to her, Feng Yi could not help but laugh, her dimples appearing like sweet, fresh honey.
The young man paused for a moment, a sudden impulse rising in his chest to ask her name. But before he could speak, she had nodded politely and turned gracefully back toward her private room.
He shook his head and smiled to himself. Qiu Yitang, Qiu Yitang—have you still not sobered up from last night’s wine?
Feng Yi returned to the Marquis of Jing’an’s residence early in the afternoon, while the sun still hung high in the sky.
“You’re back,” Jiang Xingzhou said softly. “Come here and help me mix some colors.”
Sunlight slanted through the window, gilding the room. He stood behind his desk, dressed in a tea-white robe with subtle patterns and narrow sleeves, brush in hand, painting. Even in this moment, he looked as beautiful as a work of art himself.
Feng Yi blinked, momentarily dazzled, before stepping forward with a teasing tone. “Are your three-story library not enough for you? Why come and take over my little space?”
“The library does not have your scent,” Jiang Xingzhou replied, looking up. He naturally reached out, pulled her close, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Why have you changed into a different dress?”
Feng Yi told him everything that had happened that day. When she mentioned the man who had publicly criticized her, a sharp glint of anger flashed across his eyes. When she spoke of the young gentleman who had stood up to defend them, his eyebrows lifted slightly. His tone remained calm, but a hint of jealousy crept into his voice. “Was he handsome?”
“Not half as handsome as you,” she answered smoothly, knowing exactly how to soothe his temper.
“So you did take a good look at his face, then?” Jiang Xingzhou’s left hand resting on her waist tightened slightly.
“Not at all—just a quick glance,” Feng Yi replied, half-amused and half-exasperated. This man was made entirely of old vinegar, it seemed. Fortunately, she had prepared a diversion. “Speaking of which, I passed by the Treasure Hall and saw an emerald hair crown. It reminded me of you, so I bought it. You can try it on later.”
Jiang Xingzhou’s lips curved upward. Very well—he would give her the benefit of the doubt this time, especially since she had brought him a gift just as she used to. “Let me try it now. Put it on for me.”
“It’s in the bedroom. We can do it later,” Feng Yi said, rolling her eyes. He always wanted everything done the moment it was mentioned. She changed the subject. “What are you drawing?”
“You.”
Jiang Xingzhou turned the half-finished sketch toward her. In the painting, she was resting her head on the stone table in a bamboo pavilion, surrounded by blooming flowers of every color. It was impossible to tell if the flowers made her look more beautiful, or if her beauty made the flowers seem more vivid—they complemented each other perfectly, blending into one harmonious whole.
It was a scene he had witnessed two days earlier, when he had come home early. He had stood quietly in the courtyard watching her for a long time.
“I received a letter from my master today,” Jiang Xingzhou said, looking into her eyes. “Huaiyuan will be returning to the capital in the next few days. My master has invited me to dinner at his home on the next rest day. Yi Yi, will you come with me?”
He wanted to formally introduce her to his teachers and friends.
“I will,” she agreed.
That night, after their time of intimacy behind the silk curtains, Feng Yi fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Jiang Xingzhou tucked the blankets around her, then rose and went to his library. He did not light a lamp, and his features were cast in shadow by the faint glow from the corridor outside.
“Marquis.”
“Go and find out who that loudmouth was at the Golden and Jade Restaurant today. Since his tongue is so filthy, have him thrown into the moat to wash it clean,” he said, his voice still cool and calm but edged with a cold, biting chill. “But do not kill him—she has a kind heart and would not want to see death.”
“Understood.”
“How are matters progressing with the Ninth Prince?” Jiang Xingzhou continued.
“Everything has been arranged as you instructed. Tomorrow, the Ninth Prince will accidentally learn that Grand Tutor Nie favors the Imperial Grandson,” the servant replied. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Marquis, should we do the same with the Eighth Prince?”
“No need,” Jiang Xingzhou said. “The Eighth Prince is no fool.”