Hearing that they were leaving, Zhu Qingyu finally felt the tension that had gripped her for days start to ease.
Gu Zhao had been occupied with the investigation into the assassination attempt, while Xie Ze, the unfortunate victim, had remained under her care day and night. To avoid involving the Zhang family in any scandal or suspicion of leaking information, Zhu Qingyu had deliberately avoided returning to the Zhang residence in recent days.
Now that they were leaving, it meant Gu Zhao’s case was likely nearing its conclusion, and there were no lingering worries. She could finally return home.
Wonderful, finally… it’s time to leave!
A faint smile appeared on her face as she spoke:
“Indeed, my place is rather simple. Xie Gongzi should return home to recover more comfortably. I’ll prepare a few doses of medicine for you to take back, and remember to take them on time. Will you need a carriage? I can have Qi Uncle arrange one.”
Qi Uncle was a professional at hiring carriages. In less than a quarter of an hour, he brought one that looked luxurious and gleaming on the outside, spacious and comfortable inside, suitable for a young master of the Xie family. Xie Ze, along with his belongings, was escorted into the carriage.
After seeing off the guards who had been staying at Zhu Qingyu’s clinic, she stood at the door, offering a flawless smile as she bid them farewell.
Unexpectedly, in just a few words, Madam Zhu efficiently swept them out like autumn leaves in the wind. In this moment, normally talkative Xie Ze, peeking out of the carriage window, was struck silent, unable to speak.
As they were about to leave, realizing that in a few days he would be dragged back by his father and separated by hundreds of miles—perhaps never to see her again—Xie Ze pitifully said:
“Miss Zhu, I still owe you a debt of life. I don’t know how I can ever repay you. If you ever face any difficulties, remember to come to me. If I’m in Yangzhou, come to the Yangzhou Prefect’s office; if I’ve returned to the capital, come to the Anyuan Marquis’s residence. I will speak up for you.”
Zhu Qingyu nodded politely:
“Yes, thank you, young marquis.”
Xie Ze leaned back into the carriage, quiet for a moment, then muttered:
“She didn’t say a word more to me… this cold, unfeeling little lady.”
The carriage rolled farther away. Through a gap in the window, Gu Zhao glanced toward Zhu’s clinic, now empty.
“She has her own husband. You’re an outsider—what could she possibly say to you?”
Even in such misery, being mocked like this by Gu Zhao, Xie Ze lamented dramatically:
“Cousin! The warm breeze of Yangzhou’s April cannot melt your iron heart! How can you speak so coldly? My heart is shattered into pieces! You, heartless guests, cruel men, have no idea of the emptiness, the grief, the sorrow, the lament in my heart!”
Gu Zhao found none of Xie Ze’s lament tragic, only noisy and tedious, causing him to rub his forehead and close his eyes in irritation. Normally calm, his patience was wearing thin.
He had spent days resolving a personal dilemma, only to be abruptly reminded—she was already a married woman.
Of course, that path is closed.
Even if she had been unmarried, coaxing her heart over time would have been possible, slowly winning her over.
But now, as a married woman, he could not possibly violate human decency by forcibly taking another man’s wife.
Forget it.
Gu Zhao thought: forget it.
It was merely a matter of timing—his feelings awakened just as she entered his view. There were thousands of women in the world, many beautiful; she was not irreplaceable.
Gu Zhao decided he would never set foot in Zhu Qingyu’s clinic again. Best to avoid her entirely, cool his own emotions, and, upon returning to the capital, marry a wife appropriate to his station—beautiful, noble, and proper—pouring all his lingering desire into a socially acceptable marriage. That was the right course.
Meanwhile, in Zhu Qingyu’s clinic, she was counting the one hundred taels of consultation fees left by Xiong Kun. Her thoughts mirrored Gu Zhao’s in some ways.
The one hundred taels of silver proved that she had misunderstood the steward; Gu Zhao was not miserly, but had inherited the generosity of the Dingguo Duke household.
Yet no matter how generous he was, or what motives brought him to speak as he did, Zhu Qingyu had decided to sever all future ties with him. She would never meet him again, avoid him entirely, and if seen, steer clear to avoid suspicion.
Returning to the Zhang residence after days away, she had barely changed her clothes when her third sister-in-law, Zhang Ruohua, burst in, lively as ever:
“Sister-in-law, you’re finally back! I even dreamed of you last night. Why are you still wearing that plain cloth? I had the embroiderer make you new clothes—haven’t you seen them? Wait, I’ll get them for you!”
The Zhang household now had only three masters: Zhang Shen managing the business, Zhu Qingyu busy at the clinic, and young Zhang Ruohua handling domestic affairs.
The girl was only seventeen. Three years ago, when Zhu Qingyu first met her, she had been a sickly girl.
During Zhu Qingyu’s first year there, she spent nearly all her time treating Zhang Shen and Zhang Ruohua, using every bit of her medical knowledge and ingenuity to save the two from illness, despite lacking proper equipment or modern tools.
Zhang Ruohua’s recovery was simpler and quicker.
Now, free from illness, the young girl blossomed—playful, fond of beauty, enjoying fashion, jewelry, makeup, and dressing elegantly each day.
Not only did she love adorning herself, she loved dressing others. Each season, she delighted in commissioning the embroiderer to make new clothes—not just for herself, but also for her brother and sister-in-law.
During Zhu Qingyu’s absence, Zhang Ruohua had sent several boxes of new clothes to the main house. She now held out a set of Song brocade clothing:
“Sister-in-law, I noticed you didn’t like the Yun brocade last time—it was too bright. This time, I had the embroiderer make Song brocade. Isn’t it elegant? Try this one!”
Zhu Qingyu did not dislike the Yun brocade—it was luxurious, with gold and silver thread—but she came from an ordinary family and could not justify spending so extravagantly on clothing.
Zhang Ruohua, however, was persistent. Undeterred, she continued to send new boxes of clothes.
Zhu Qingyu changed into the Song brocade and said gently:
“These clothes are beautiful; I like them very much. The Yun brocade is also lovely, and I don’t dislike it. But I already have so many clothes that I can’t wear them all, and many have never even been worn. Third sister, please don’t make more for me.”