Chen Jinfeng remained silent for a long while, slowly massaging his temples. Xu Jiusi straightened his posture, tapping his palm lightly with his feather fan, brows furrowed. “My lord’s head aches again? And Physician Huo chose this very time to run off. Sometimes you are far too lenient with him.”
This headache had plagued their lord for nearly ten years. Strangely, it worsened every summer, and countless physicians had tried to cure it, all to no avail.
Later, they met Physician Huo. His methods were more effective than those of previous doctors, but even he could only ease the pain temporarily, never cure it.
The past two years, their lord had been consumed by war, with no time to rest or recover. Thus, the headaches, once subdued, returned with renewed ferocity. And that old man Huo—knowing full well summer was when the headaches were most severe—had irresponsibly fled, claiming he had found “true love” and that if he did not pursue it, he would be lonely for life.
Bah! Over fifty years old and still chasing “true love”? Xu Jiusi knew perfectly well that the old man just wanted an excuse to wander the mountains and rivers.
Chen Jinfeng chuckled softly as he pressed his temple. “If he insists on leaving, what can I do—cut him down?”
He had slipped away while Chen Jinfeng was campaigning in Minzhou, in a clearly premeditated act.
Xu Jiusi was momentarily speechless. Physicians might not hold high official rank, but no one in the world dared truly underestimate them—especially those of great skill, whom everyone wished to revere.
Physician Huo had gained fame in his youth, wandering widely, healing the sick, seeking only to perfect his art. That he had stayed obediently by their lord’s side these past years was already rare.
Chen Jinfeng closed his eyes. “It is no great matter. Before leaving, Physician Huo left me a prescription. My headaches will not be as uncontrollable as in years past.”
Xu Jiusi studied him for a long moment, then sighed and shook his head.
“My lord has labored too hard these two years. Now that the realm is somewhat settled, you ought to remain in Fenglin and nourish your health.”
“I hear you captured the leader of the Minzhou rebellion, yet imposed no punishment. Aside from restricting his freedom, you treat him like an honored guest.”
Chen Jinfeng opened his eyes slightly, his dark gaze calm. “This time, half of Minzhou’s rebel army were poor scholars.”
Xu Jiusi had already heard of this and clicked his tongue in lament. “The selection of officials has long been monopolized by the great clans. Each year, those recommended from the provinces are either clan members, their relatives, or men who paid dearly to buy positions from them. This problem has been severe since the late emperor’s reign. But in recent years, the court has been busy redistributing land, repairing waterways, and restoring livelihoods, and has neglected this matter. The Third Young Master has long wished to tackle it, but the corruption in official selection is deeply entrenched. The web of interests across the land is strong. To reform it rashly would bring immeasurable damage.”
Even the redistribution of land alone had already sparked countless bloody conflicts. To wrest the fat meat from the mouths of those insatiable clans was no simple task.
“How is it not damaged?”
Chen Jinfeng’s eyelids lowered, his lips curling faintly. “Hasn’t the damage already begun?”
Xu Jiusi froze, his expression turning grave. “My lord means… the Minzhou rebellion was actually instigated by those clans, fanning the flames from behind?”
The court’s work was already difficult. If Jin’s poor scholars turned hostile toward the court, the task ahead would be all the harder.
Chen Jinfeng opened his mouth as if to speak, but suddenly closed his eyes instead, pressing hard against his temple. After a long moment, he said: “The other two kingdoms have spent years recruiting and cultivating talent. Especially Wei’s Chancellor Lou—five years ago, he personally took charge of talent selection. In this, Jin is far behind. For now, militarily, they cannot match us. But given time, they may well catch up.”
Xu Jiusi gave a soft hiss of concern. “My lord…”
Chen Jinfeng lifted his hand slightly to signal it was nothing. “We must find a way to push forward reform in talent selection. Before that, we must suppress the arrogance of the great clans.”
Suppress the clans? In Xu Jiusi’s mind, suppressing his lord’s headaches was the more urgent matter!
He leapt up quickly. “It was my oversight. My lord has returned from long campaigns and should rest early. I should not have disturbed you…”
Even as he spoke, he cursed himself inwardly. Was watching his lord stumble really so important? Couldn’t he wait one night? Yes—it was very important!
Chen Jinfeng looked at him with a half‑smile. “You’ve already disturbed me. Isn’t it a bit late to say that now?”
Xu Jiusi’s grin turned roguish. He tapped his feather fan lightly. “Not late at all. I was planning to leave anyway. The lovely Miss Chuchu of Hongxing Pavilion is waiting for me. To leave a beauty alone in her chamber—that would be a grave sin.”
Chen Jinfeng gave him a look of utter disinterest.
Xu Jiusi chuckled. “Ah, the warmth of jade in one’s arms—my lord cannot possibly understand such pleasures. Why not heed my advice and come experience the ecstasy of the mortal world? This illness of yours—suppressing it again and again may backfire. Better to try fighting poison with poison…”
Before he could finish, the killing intent radiating from his lord silenced him. He hurriedly bowed and fled as though escaping for his life.
After Xu Jiusi left, Chen Jinfeng remained seated in the study, unmoving.
Fighting poison with poison…
Just the thought of touching another’s skin filled him with deep disgust.
Yet compared to the morbid, overwhelming desire for contact he had felt in childhood, this disgust was almost comforting. To him, that strange craving had been nothing more than the folly of youth. His willpower had always been stronger than most, and by sheer force of will, he had suppressed it. Perhaps he had suppressed it too much. Now he had developed another pathology—unless absolutely necessary, he refused any physical contact with others. It hardly affected his daily life, aside from the endless rumors that circulated outside.
Chen Jinfeng had never cared. He was simply too tired. His head throbbed relentlessly. Slowly, he closed his eyes. His thoughts grew hazy, and in the blur of half‑sleep, a voice rose from the depths of time—
“Jinfeng.”
“Jinfeng…”