Gu Zhao had not spent much time in the residence growing up. Thinking back, he did recall occasionally encountering female physicians visiting his grandmother.
Most women who practiced medicine were in their forties or fifties—older matrons for whom there was little concern about propriety when treating patients.
Since this was a physician who had previously treated his grandmother, Gu Zhao made no further comment. After acknowledging it, he did not pursue the matter.
Having finished reading the account book and made his plans for the next day’s audience with the emperor, he hastily ate some late-night food before lying down. Yet he found himself unable to fall asleep.
He prided himself on being steady and disciplined—how had he been so careless this time, mistaking the wrong person?
Why had he assumed it was her? If not her, then who was she?
She had appeared at his grandmother’s residence, yet with her talent and beauty, she had not been among the candidates. Clearly, her status made her unsuitable to be his bed companion.
Thinking back to their two encounters, it was fortunate he had not behaved improperly. Had rumors spread, it would have been seen as reckless indulgence, ruining his own future.
Fortunately, he had realized the mistake early, and no one else had noticed anything. It had only been two brief meetings—a misunderstanding. In a few days, he would surely forget her, and the matter would fade away.
In the front courtyard study, Gu Zhao tossed and turned in the quiet of the night, unable to sleep.
Meanwhile, in Fu’an Hall in the back courtyard, Zhu Qingyu stayed awake all night attending to the old madam.
Past the middle of the Yin hour, the old madam’s fever finally subsided. Her breathing became steady—she was no longer in danger.
After leaving behind a prescription for recovery, Zhu Qingyu bid farewell to the Duchess.
The Duchess tried to persuade her to stay:
“You’ve come all this way and worked through the night. How can we let you leave hungry, thirsty, and exhausted? It would reflect poorly on us as hosts. Please have breakfast and leave after dawn—I’ll have a carriage arranged for you.”
Zhu Qingyu politely declined:
“Thank you for your kindness, Madam. It is not that I am being ungrateful, but I must leave the capital today with my husband to return to Yangzhou. Our boat is already scheduled, and I must go back to prepare, or we may miss the departure.”
Since she had pressing matters, the Duchess did not insist. She had the consultation fee prepared and sent Zhu Qingyu off.
The steward had intended to arrange a carriage, but upon stepping outside the gates, they saw the Zhang family carriage already waiting.
Hearing the gates open, Zhang Shen—who had stayed up nearly the entire night—quickly got down and came forward.
“My lady.”
After exchanging farewells with the attendants, Zhu Qingyu boarded the carriage, carrying the pouch of payment. As soon as she got in, she opened it to check.
Zhang Shen held up a lamp to help her see and eagerly peered inside.
“I was worried sick. You didn’t come back even by midnight. The messenger from the Gu residence couldn’t explain clearly—just said you had to stay overnight for treatment. I wanted to come find you, but the curfew stopped me. I had to wait until it lifted at Yin hour before coming. Oh—ten taels of silver. As expected of a duke’s residence—so generous.”
This trip from Yangzhou to the capital and back took two months, and the Gu family had indeed been very generous. The consultation fee included travel expenses, compensation for lost work, and treatment costs. Previously, just for treating the old madam’s waist injury, they had paid Zhu Qingyu a full hundred taels of silver.
With the additional ten taels today, it exceeded one hundred taels in total. Since she only prescribed medicine and did not supply it, nearly all of it was pure profit—more than she could save in a year running her clinic.
Moreover, the Gu family was not only generous but also refined. Whether it was the old madam, mother of the Empress Dowager, or the Duchess, despite their noble status, they spoke to Zhu Qingyu—a merchant family’s physician—with great courtesy.
So even though she had not slept all night and felt both hungry and tired, having successfully treated her patient and worked for such gracious employers put her in an excellent mood.
Closing the pouch, she leaned against the carriage wall, hugging it happily.
“Everyone gets a share—this time I’ve made a fortune. When we return to Yangzhou, I’ll make you some new clothes.”
Though ten taels meant nothing to Zhang Shen—he might not even bother picking it up if he saw it on the street—he had been eagerly waiting for her to say this.
He smiled.
“Then, my lady, could you be a bit less stingy this time? Since you’ve made money, be generous—buy more fabric and make me a few more sets. I don’t even have inner garments to wear anymore. The old ones are all worn through.”
Though they were husband and wife, Zhu Qingyu had always kept finances clearly separate.
At the beginning, since their marriage was only for appearances, she only took the monthly allowance Zhang Shen gave her—twenty taels—as a salary. She never considered the Zhang family’s wealth to be hers.
The clothes and jewelry Zhang Shen bought for her, she treated as work attire—wearing them when going out as the Zhang family’s lady. When working as a physician, she wore her own simple cotton garments and no jewelry.
Over time, as they grew closer and she began to see him as family, she wanted to reciprocate. She didn’t want to rely solely on his money and instead used her own earnings to do things for him.
She couldn’t afford anything too expensive, and anything too cheap wouldn’t suit his status. So she bought cotton cloth and learned from the household seamstresses to make him inner garments.
Outer garments required fine materials, tailoring, and embroidery—beyond her abilities.
Inner garments, however, were simple. No one would see them, and they didn’t need decoration. Though her work was still imperfect, she eventually learned.
She hadn’t expected that Zhang Shen, raised in luxury, would actually prefer wearing cotton clothes. He rotated those few inner garments she made for him over and over.
Being accused of stinginess, Zhu Qingyu, exhausted, was already drifting to sleep. Half-conscious, she murmured in protest:
“That’s not fair… don’t you already have plenty of clothes at home? Silks and satins piled like mountains… every season the seamstresses make yours first… chests full of clothes you don’t even wear… yet you keep wearing those few cotton ones…”
Her voice grew softer and slower, and before she could finish, she had fallen asleep.
Zhang Shen took a blanket and covered her, watching her quietly for a while. Only after confirming she was truly asleep did he softly say:
“That’s different.”