3
The Thirteen Ghost Needles
Bai Jingchu was utterly shocked, flailing her limbs and kicking with all her might. However, the effects of the muscle-relaxing drug were too potent—her punches landed on Chi Yanqing’s body like mere tickles.
Beast!
“Let me go! Let me go!”
Chi Yanqing soon shoved her away in disgust, snatched a white handkerchief from nearby, wiped the blood from the wound on her shoulder, and tossed it onto the bed. “Playing hard to get? Eunuch Li has trained you well.”
Bai Jingchu’s face paled as she glared at him furiously, gritting her teeth and reaching for her left shoulder.
It was indeed bleeding.
“Mad dog! You shameless mad dog!”
Tears of humiliation welled in her eyes, tingeing them crimson.
Chi Yanqing paid no mind, even provocatively licking the blood from the corner of his lips before spitting. “I heard you were sent by the Bai family to serve that old eunuch for three years. If I hadn’t seen you as pitiful today, I’d have whipped you to death on the spot—let’s see if the Bai family dares to insult me with a tainted woman again!”
No wonder he had been seething with murderous intent when he arrived.
In the midst of their exchange, she had narrowly escaped death once more.
Rumors had long circulated that the heir of Qinggui Marquis Manor, Yanqing, was eccentric, unrestrained, and a smiling demon—and indeed, it was true.
Faced with such humiliation, Bai Jingchu felt both bitterness and rage but dared not show it. Instead, she pouted and widened her eyes, forcing herself to look like an indignant, puffed-up frog.
Chi Yanqing’s expression shifted swiftly; he grinned at her like a cunning fox. “Angry already? Do you still want the silver?”
Of course she did!
Penniless as she was, she had to plan for the future.
Bai Jingchu reached out to snatch it, but Chi Yanqing sidestepped and lightly tossed the banknote onto the canopy above the bed. “Shake it down, and it’s yours.”
The note teetered precariously on the canopy, just within reach if one stood on tiptoe.
Yet Bai Jingchu obediently clung to the bedpost, shaking it with all her might until she was drenched in sweat.
The intricately carved rosewood bed emitted only a faint, suggestive creak.
Seated at the table, Chi Yanqing took a satisfied sip of tea, frowned as he watched her for a moment, then finally noticed something amiss and remarked leisurely, “After the Bai family’s patriarch retired, they’ve had no worthy successors. The medical skills they inherited are only used on their own kin. To think they’d administer such a potent muscle-relaxant to a fool—so weak and feeble, it makes me look incompetent.”
Bai Jingchu coughed twice, choked by his words, and the banknote fluttered down to the floor.
Delighted, she picked it up, tucked it securely against her body, and patted it for reassurance.
No sooner had the bed’s creaking subsided than the door was urgently knocked from outside. A servant reported through the door, “Young Master, the Old Madam’s chronic illness has flared up again. The Madam requests your immediate presence when you’re free.”
Chi Yanqing rose at once, grabbing the brocade robe from the footstool. “Has someone been sent to the Bai family?”
“Yes, but the Bai patriarch has gone to Yuanshan Temple for seclusion, and the eldest master is away from the capital on disaster relief duties. The only one left who can perform the Thirteen Ghost Gates Acupuncture is the Bai family’s eldest son.”
Chi Yanqing’s expression tightened. “Bai Jing’an is dull-witted and has only learned a fraction of the skill—he’s hardly reliable!”
Without bothering to deal with Bai Jingchu, he hurriedly threw on his robes and left.
Finally, Bai Jingchu understood: Bai Jingshu’s marriage into the marquis family was the Bai family’s way of repaying a favor—using their exclusive medical expertise to secure the match.
Bound by filial duty, how could Chi Yanqing refuse the marriage?
A sudden inspiration struck her, and she realized she now had a means to stay in the Bai family.
Swiftly removing the two earrings from her ears, she sharpened their needle-like ends on the bluestone floor. Using the Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles technique, she stimulated specific acupoints to accelerate the dissipation of the Soft Sinew Powder.
Once she had regained some strength, she wasted no time and immediately opened the door to step out.
Outside the courtyard, the area was brightly lit, with people bustling in and out in a hurry.
It was clear that the Dowager’s condition was critical, and no one paid her any attention.
Bai Jingchu wandered around for a while before spotting her elder brother, Bai Jing’an, from a distance.
Bai Jing’an, carrying a medicine chest, was being hurried along by a steward-like figure into a residence nestled among flowers and trees.
Bai Jingchu immediately followed them inside.
The courtyard was crowded with people—men, women, and children alike—all as restless as ants on a hot pan, their faces etched with anxiety.
Seeing Bai Jing’an, the Marquess’s wife stepped forward: “The Dowager’s condition has taken a sudden turn for the worse, and she’s struggling to breathe. In the past, she would take the asthma-relief pills made by your family’s elder master, supplemented at most with silver needle acupoint stimulation, and she would recover instantly.
But today, we’ve heard that both your family’s elder master and the head of the Bai family are not in the capital, so we must trouble you, Young Master Bai, to lend a hand.”
Bai Jing’an’s hands trembled as he nervously declined: “I have the asthma-relief pills with me, but my medical skills are inadequate. I’ve only learned the basics of my grandfather’s Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles and dare not recklessly attempt the procedure.”
“What are we to do then?”
The crowd’s faces fell instantly, their anxiety mounting as they wrung their hands in despair.
Bai Jing’an, shrinking back timidly, turned and noticed Bai Jingchu following behind. Irritation flared in him: “What are you doing here? Who allowed you to come?”
Bai Jingchu, hiding behind the others, timidly poked her head out and said, “Jingchu knows how to use the needles.”
Bai Jing’an scoffed, his impatience evident: “Stop causing trouble. Go wait in the carriage outside!”
Jingchu insisted stubbornly, “I really do know. I’ve already mastered the Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles.”
In fact, she had learned it secretly, back when she was only thirteen.
Her grandfather hadn’t believed her at first, but later, with a strange expression, he had warned her never to reveal her skill in public.
So, Bai Jing’an was unaware of her ability.
The Marquess’s wife, overhearing this, did not hide her disdain and scorn:
“I’ve long heard that the Bai family’s Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles is a single-line inheritance—passed only to sons, not daughters; to the legitimate line, not the collateral; to the eldest, not the younger.
Even the head of the Bai family, who learned the needles from the elder master since childhood, hasn’t fully mastered it. You, a simpleton, probably can’t even hold an embroidery needle, yet you boast like a toad yawning—such grand claims!”
Bai Jingchu pouted, slightly displeased: “Well, I know how. If you don’t believe me, that’s fine.”
Chi Yanqing’s sharp gaze swept over her, lingering for a moment as he asked Bai Jing’an with skepticism, “Does she really know how to perform the needle technique?”
Bai Jing’an flatly denied it: “Please don’t listen to her nonsense, Lord Yan. The Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles must be applied according to the patient’s pulse variations—that’s the essence of the technique. What could she possibly understand? Not to mention, she’s currently… simple-minded.”
The door to the room opened, and the elegant Marquess stepped out, his face lined with worry and his eyes red-rimmed.
Everyone crowded around, asking with concern, “How is she?”
The Marquess’s jaw tightened as he replied hoarsely, “Her breathing is getting more labored. Chief Physician Yan says it may not look good. All of you, go inside and keep watch. See if the Dowager has any last words.”
In a rush, the crowd surged into the room. The women held back their sobs, not daring to cry aloud, and silently wiped away their tears.
Chi Yanqing suddenly turned to Bai Jing’an and said, “At this point, the worst has already happened. Young Master Bai, why not set aside your worries and give it a try?”
Bai Jing’an spread his hands helplessly. “I can only manage three or four needles before losing control of the pulse. At best, I can temporarily alleviate the symptoms, but it won’t last long.”
Given the circumstances, they had no choice but to try desperate measures. The noble Marquis could only say, “If we can ease her suffering even a little, it would be a sincere effort.”
Bai Jing’an gritted his teeth and made up his mind. “Alright!”
The Bai family always carried silver needles with them. Bai Jing’an rolled up his sleeves, sat by the Old Madam’s bedside, and took a deep, nervous breath.
All eyes were fixed on the silver needle in his hand.
The attending maidservant immediately pushed up the Old Madam’s sleeve, and Bai Jing’an cautiously inserted the first needle.
The needle trembled slightly, emitting a faint buzzing sound.
Then came the second and third needles.
With one hand checking the pulse and the other manipulating the needle, Bai Jing’an looked grave and hesitant. After a moment’s pause, he finally directed the needle toward the Daling point behind the palm.
“This needle should be inserted five fen below the earlobe.”
From the back of the crowd, Bai Jingchu couldn’t hold back and spoke up to remind him.
A life was at stake—he couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
Moreover, whether he could remain in the Bai family likely hinged on this very moment.