Due to the sudden heavy rain, the guest rooms usually used for accommodation at Qingtan Temple were all occupied by temporary lodgers. Jiang Congli’s room for the night was arranged next to Pei Shuyi’s—this area was more secluded and quiet, and generally not open to outside guests.
Jiang Congli, who suffered from chronic insomnia, had originally stepped out for a cigarette but happened to run into Aunt He, who was searching for a doctor for Pei Shuyi.
Aunt He was startled. She looked up, her face wet with rain, and only under the corridor light could she make out the person before her.
The man wore a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He was tall and imposing, with sharp, cold features.
She weighed in her mind whether it would be faster to ask this strong, capable man for help or to brave the rain and walk ten minutes to find someone else in the temple.
Clearly, the closer option was quicker.
“Sir!”
“My young lady has a high fever—she’s burning up and unconscious…”
Jiang Congli glanced at the lit guest room behind her, then at her panicked, flustered expression, and slightly furrowed his brow.
“How long has she been feverish?”
“I don’t know. When I heard the commotion, she was already burning up badly—her forehead was frighteningly hot, and she wasn’t lucid…” Aunt He’s voice grew increasingly anxious as she spoke.
Jiang Congli raised a hand. “I can take a look first.”
Aunt He was taken aback. “You?”
“I studied some in Hong Kong.”
Jiang Congli’s late grandfather had been Hong Kong’s most renowned traditional Chinese medicine practitioner.
The largest medical group in Hong Kong, Jiang Medical Group, had also been under his grandfather’s control.
Though Jiang Congli himself was not a doctor, having grown up immersed in that environment, his basic medical knowledge far surpassed that of the average person.
Looking at the steady gaze of the man before her, Aunt He suddenly felt a bit more at ease.
“Then… please, sir, I’ll trouble you to check on our young lady first.”
Without another word, Jiang Congli walked unhurriedly toward Pei Shuyi’s room.
Inside the room, Pei Shuyi was still feverish.
She looked so fragile buried under the covers, like a flower wilted by wind and rain, ready to shatter at any moment.
Jiang Congli stood by the bed, looked down at her for two seconds, then reached out to touch her forehead.
It was alarmingly hot.
He withdrew his hand, briskly rolled up his sleeves, and turned to Aunt He, who had followed him in.
“Help her sit up.”
Aunt He hurriedly complied.
Pei Shuyi let out a faint, groggy moan, her brow tightly furrowed.
Jiang Congli sat down by the bed and placed his fingers on her wrist.
Pei Shuyi’s pulse was fast and weak, like a frightened little bird desperately flapping its wings.
Jiang Congli’s frown deepened—this pulse was even worse than he had anticipated.
“What medication does she usually take?” he asked.
“Several kinds—Chinese medicine for regulating her health, and Western medicine too. They’re all stored in the cabinet, labeled.”
“Bring them here.”
Aunt He quickly rummaged through the cabinet, laying out the medicine bottles one by one.
Jiang Congli scanned them, picked up a few bottles to examine their ingredient lists, and his brow furrowed even more deeply.
“Stop these medications for now.” He pushed the bottles aside.
Aunt He was startled. “All of them? But these are medicines the young lady has been taking regularly…”
“Her body can’t handle them right now.”
“In a state of high fever, metabolic function is already weak. These nourishing medicinal components will only add to the burden on her organs.”
Aunt He listened in a daze. She didn’t understand these medical principles, but the man spoke with such clarity and logic that he sounded very reliable.
“Then… what should we do?”
Jiang Congli did not answer immediately. He stood up, walked to the table, and picked up paper and pen.
“I’ll write a new prescription, adjusting the medicinal properties to be milder so her current body can absorb it.”
“For the next two days, start with this prescription. We’ll focus on reducing the fever first.”
Two minutes later.
“I’ve finished the prescription. The temple has a pharmacy. Please have someone prepare it now and bring it over once it’s decocted.”
The temple indeed had a pharmacy. Over the years, Jiang Congli had accompanied Old Madam up the mountain to pray for blessings and was familiar with most areas.
Perhaps it was because Jiang Congli exuded an aura of righteousness, or perhaps Aunt He was genuinely anxious about Pei Shuyi’s condition.
Without overthinking, Aunt He left the room directly.
Outside, the rain had unknowingly lightened. Once Aunt He left, the quiet room held only the standing man and the bedridden woman.
Jiang Congli’s gaze fell on Pei Shuyi’s face.
Her sleeping expression was serene, the sickly pallor between her brows even more pronounced under the lamplight. Her lips were almost colorless, and her breathing was shallow.
He recalled the words his grandmother had said that afternoon.
“She’s very well-behaved.”
She was indeed well-behaved.
Jiang Congli reached out and felt Pei Shuyi’s forehead temperature.
It was still frighteningly hot.
Pei Shuyi seemed to sense the coolness of his palm and tilted her head slightly, leaning toward his direction.
Jiang Congli’s hand stiffened for a moment, but he made no move to withdraw it. He simply let her lean against it, remaining motionless.
…
His grandfather’s teachings suddenly echoed in his ears—the Jiang family had practiced medicine for generations, and the first principle of their family tradition was: In the eyes of a physician, there is no distinction between men and women. In matters of life and death, a moment of hesitation could cost a life.
Jiang Congli closed his eyes and withdrew his hand from where the woman was resting against it.
He turned, fetched a basin of warm water, rolled up his sleeves, and soaked a towel before wringing it dry.
He sat by the bed and gently placed the towel on her forehead.
Pei Shuyi flinched slightly from the sudden coolness, then, as if finding something comforting, relaxed her brow a little.
Jiang Congli picked up a second towel, dipped it in cool water, and began wiping slowly from her neck, following the line of her collarbone.
The towel slid along the curve of her collarbone, the small patch of skin glowing like porcelain under the dim lamplight, with a faint shimmer of water pooling in the hollow of her collarbone.
Her shoulders were softly rounded, the skin thin enough to reveal faint blue veins beneath.
As the towel passed over, the skin flushed with a light pink hue.
Pei Shuyi’s cotton nightgown had a wide neckline, its curves full and soft, maintaining a smooth outline even as she lay flat.
The curves, visible under the lamplight, shimmered with a faint glow, rising and falling with her breath.
Jiang Congli deliberately avoided areas he shouldn’t touch, keeping his gaze fixed on the towel, striving to treat her as a physician would a patient, without any distracting thoughts.
In her dazed state, Pei Shuyi felt a gentle, cool touch, and the frown brought on by her high fever gradually eased.
Jiang Congli continued without pause.
Changing towels, wiping, changing again, wiping again.
Over and over.
After what felt like countless repetitions, Pei Shuyi’s temperature finally began to drop bit by bit.
Forty minutes later.
When Aunt He hurried back with the decocted medicine and pushed the door open, the sight before her left her rooted to the spot—
That man, usually so cold and rigid, was actually sitting by the young lady’s bedside, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his large hand cradling Pei Shuyi’s wrist as he wiped her palm to help reduce her fever.
Aunt He opened her mouth slightly, feeling a bit annoyed at herself for having allowed him to stay in Pei Shuyi’s room earlier.
She cleared her throat softly.
Jiang Congli looked up, his expression carrying its usual indifference.
He took the medicine bowl, sniffed it, and nodded. “It’s fine.”
Aunt He stepped forward to help Pei Shuyi sit up, while Jiang Congli brought the medicine bowl to her lips.
Pei Shuyi, still dazed, opened her mouth. As the bitter medicinal liquid entered, she frowned and instinctively tried to spit it out.
“No, you can’t. Swallow it slowly.