As the mountain path gradually leveled out, the outline of a town came into view in the distance.
The closer they drew, the more evident the signs of human life became: wide roads neatly paved with stone, vendors calling out along the streets, shopfronts lined with dazzling signboards, cooking smoke rising alongside the hum of voices. Among the constant flow of people, ox carts and donkey carts passed now and then.
Lin Zhengdu first took Xie Guanqi to a breakfast stall—a highly mobile wooden pushcart that roamed the streets.
The cart had been cleverly modified, shaped like a tiny house set atop wheels. From the front of its “roof” hung a coarse cloth sign that read: “Yao’s Breakfast.”
Inside, the selection was plentiful: freshly fried dough sticks just lifted from the oil, steaming rice cakes, even chilled mixed noodles.
The stall owner was a plump middle-aged woman with a bright, friendly smile. She clearly recognized Lin Zhengdu—her grin widened the moment she saw her, her crescent-shaped eyes sinking into her full, moon-like cheeks.
“Doctor Lin, you’re finally here!” the woman greeted warmly. “What would you like today? Want to try our new wraps? We’ve added tender toon leaves—once spring passes, they won’t be this fresh anymore.”
Lin Zhengdu leaned in to glance at the offerings. “Then give me two of the new wraps, two bowls of sweet soy milk, one plate of cold noodles, and two tea eggs. What filling are the buns today?”
“Bamboo shoots and pork—with a bit of fish mixed in,” the owner replied.
“Alright, then three buns as well. That’s all for now.” She turned to Xie Guanqi. “I’m done ordering—what about you?”
“…Huh?” he blinked.
“Huh what? Order breakfast! Is there nothing you like?”
Only then did he realize that the long list she had just rattled off was meant for herself alone.
The owner, clearly used to Lin Zhengdu’s appetite, now stared expectantly at him—as if daring him to say yes.
Xie Guanqi lowered his gaze and calmly ordered the exact same items—
—but doubled the portions.
Lin Zhengdu blinked in surprise. “That much? Can you finish it?”
“I can.”
In truth, he had been wondering the same thing about her.
Lin Zhengdu didn’t dwell on it. She patted his shoulder approvingly. “Makes sense—you’re still growing.”
Her strength wasn’t great, and even in his weakened state, the gesture didn’t hurt. Still, he found himself disliking the comment—
Especially coming from her.
As if he were much younger than her.
When in fact, they were about the same age.
The owner had set up a few wooden tables and stools beside the cart. Though the tables weren’t small, the sheer amount of food they ordered quickly filled one completely—and even then, there wasn’t quite enough space.
Seeing this, the owner simply dragged over another table.
It was peak breakfast time, and other tables were occupied. But the moment people realized the table was being moved for Doctor Lin, they cheerfully stood up and gave up their seats.
“Doctor Lin, when will you start seeing patients today? My father got much better after your medicine last time—I’d like to get him another dose.”
“Doctor Lin, can you treat a crippled leg? My husband fell while gathering herbs a few days ago—the town doctor said it’s beyond him and told us to wait for you.”
“Doctor Lin, we’ve got smoked meat and freshly dried beans at home—I’ll bring some for you later. The medicine you gave my child worked wonders—his fever broke the next day!”
…
Breakfast turned into something like a town meeting. Lin Zhengdu answered questions while deftly slipping bites of food in between.
The stall soon became surrounded by people, bustling with energy—
Until, suddenly, a chill crept down their spines.
An invisible pressure spread through the air.
The townsfolk, who had been eagerly speaking to Lin Zhengdu, abruptly noticed the young sword cultivator sitting at the same table—someone they had completely overlooked.
The oppressive aura came from him.
Xie Guanqi took a sip of soy milk, set the bowl down, and glanced at the crowd.
His eyes were beautiful—peach blossom-shaped—
Yet on his face, they held no warmth or charm.
Only sharpness.
Like a blade gleaming with cold light.
Where his gaze passed, those who met it felt a prickling sting across their skin.
Gradually, the noise died down.
Intimidated by the presence of a sword cultivator, people found excuses to leave one by one.
Xie Guanqi withdrew his aura and lowered his head, continuing his meal.
Lin Zhengdu twirled her noodles. “Were they bothering you?”
“There were too many people,” he replied.
She smiled. “Disciples of the Medicine Sect have quotas for free clinics. This town is closest to my mountain, so it’s under my care. Any difficult illnesses that ordinary doctors can’t treat get referred to me.”
“Besides, Medicine Sect disciples don’t charge mortals for treatment. That’s why they’re so enthusiastic when they see me—it’s not ill intention.”
That was true—
But in reality, few medical cultivators would go as far as Lin Zhengdu, treating all kinds of illnesses.
Most only intervened during outbreaks, to prevent disease from spreading.
Lin Zhengdu, however, due to her own experiences, took a particular interest in difficult mortal ailments and held regular free clinics.
After breakfast, the owner refused to accept payment and even packed several buns of different flavors for her.
Lin Zhengdu accepted them without hesitation. On the way to the clinic, she handed two buns to Xie Guanqi.
By the time they arrived, a long line had already formed outside the free clinic. Each person held a wooden token engraved with a number.
Though it looked like the line had just started, in truth, people had begun queuing days in advance to secure a place.
Some were truly suffering from serious illnesses—
Others simply couldn’t afford medical fees and had endured their conditions, waiting for Lin Zhengdu’s free consultations.
But no one dared to take advantage.
The last person who tried had been pricked twice by Lin Zhengdu’s needles—and hadn’t dared show his face since.
That incident had taught the townspeople something important:
Doctor Lin might look gentle and graceful, like a white lotus—
But she was no delicate flower.
She was a cultivator of the Medicine Sect.
And her seemingly slender fists could knock down two oxen in a single blow.
With that understanding, their interactions with her became remarkably harmonious.
Time always flew during consultations.
Before Lin Zhengdu realized it, the sand in the hourglass at the corner of her table had already run out.
A clinic attendant struck a gong. “Break time! Remaining patients, please return home and come back at the afternoon hour of Wei with your tokens!”
The unserved patients dispersed, and the once-crowded entrance quickly quieted.
While Lin Zhengdu treated patients, Xie Guanqi sat beside her, guarding the medicine basket.
He didn’t recognize most of the herbs, so he couldn’t help prepare prescriptions. Instead, whenever needed, he pushed the basket toward her.
Once she finished, he would pull it back again, silently and reliably watching over it.
For lunch, they returned to the same wooden cart.
Xie Guanqi noticed that the cloth sign had been changed—from “Yao’s Breakfast” to “Yao’s Lunch.”
The owner, however, was still the same cheerful woman.
Seeing him repeatedly glance at the sign, Lin Zhengdu smiled. “What do you think of the writing?”
“Neat,” he said.
“That’s it?”
He looked at her, puzzled—what else was there to say?
She shook her head and went to find a seat.
The owner, busy tending a hot pan, took the chance to chat. “Doctor Lin, this is the first time I’ve seen you bring someone along. This young gentleman is…?”
“My younger—”
“Friend,” Xie Guanqi cut in.
It was rare for him to interrupt someone.
Lin Zhengdu looked at him, surprised.
He frowned slightly and met her gaze. “How could I be your younger brother? We’re not related.”
His dissatisfaction was obvious.
Lin Zhengdu found it amusing—and a little childish.
Only younger people cared so much about such things.
She turned back to the owner with a smile. “Yes, a friend.”
“Oh? I thought he was your junior brother,” the owner said.
“We don’t share the same master,” Xie Guanqi replied, still frowning.
Lin Zhengdu clicked her tongue.
He glanced at her—she had even shaken her head.
“Was I wrong?” he asked.
“I thought you wanted us to share the same master,” she teased.
He answered seriously, “You don’t have the talent for swordsmanship, and I don’t have the talent for medicine.”
It was a blunt, impolite statement—
But his expression was completely earnest.
No mockery. Just truth.
Lin Zhengdu knew he wasn’t wrong—
But it still made her feel both annoyed and amused.
No one liked having their shortcomings pointed out.
She crossed her arms and stepped away. “Yes, yes, you’re the most talented at swordsmanship. Keep it up—I believe you’ll become a Sword Immortal someday.”
He nodded. “Alright.”
“…Alright your head!”
Xie Guanqi touched his head, as if trying to figure out what was wrong with it. Seeing her glare, he wisely fell silent.
After lunch, there was still time before the afternoon session, so Lin Zhengdu took him around the town.
But March weather was fickle.
They hadn’t gone far when dark clouds rolled in, thunder cracked, and lightning split the sky.
Lin Zhengdu barely had time to glance up before heavy raindrops came crashing down.
She grabbed Xie Guanqi and ran.
Vendors scrambled to pack up, fleeing in all directions for shelter.
The rain had come so suddenly that the streets were still crowded—creating the odd sight of a torrential downpour above and a sea of people below.
Lin Zhengdu weaved through the crowd, pulling him along, hopping and dodging.
Most people crowded under shop eaves, packed shoulder to shoulder.
One look at the soggy masses, and she lost all interest in joining them.
Instead, she dragged Xie Guanqi out of the street and into a farewell pavilion by a lakeside bridge.
A row of weeping willows lined the pavilion. Their misty green branches swayed in the wind and rain—like gauze from afar, but up close, whipping sharply against the face.
Lin Zhengdu let go of his hand and began wringing out her soaked sleeves.
Her hair was drenched too, strands clinging to her face as water trickled down her cheeks and neck.
She twisted her sleeves, then her skirt, streams of water splashing onto the stone floor.
Afterward, she formed a hand seal to dry herself—but her cultivation wasn’t strong enough to remove all the moisture. Her clothes remained damp, like laundry dried in humid weather.
She couldn’t help feeling a bit frustrated.
If my cultivation were higher—even just fourth realm—I could dry everything completely…
She fiddled with her damp hair irritably.
Suddenly, Xie Guanqi reached out.
His fingers slipped into her hair, resting at the back of her head.
Warmth spread from his palm—
Like a gentle wind, drying the remaining moisture from her body.
She froze, looking at him—only then noticing that he himself was perfectly dry.
He withdrew his hand, expression calm, as if nothing had happened.
Yet her clothes were now fully dry—and faintly warm, like they had been heated by fire.
“I have a fire spiritual root,” he said.
The remark came out of nowhere.
“I… have water and wood dual roots,” she replied.
“Mm. I could tell.”
“…I could tell yours too.”
He fell silent for a moment, then lowered his head slightly and smiled.
A faint, almost shy smile.
Lin Zhengdu blinked.
…What is he smiling about? Since when is identifying someone’s spiritual root a joke?
They sat in the pavilion for a while, watching the rain.
It came quickly—
And stopped just as fast.
Soon the sky cleared, and a faint rainbow appeared on the horizon.
They returned to the clinic for the afternoon session.
An attendant brought them two plates of melon cakes and dried cherries.
The melon cakes were average—
But the dried cherries were delicious.
Lin Zhengdu decided to buy a large bag on their way back.
Suddenly, someone stumbled into the clinic, disrupting the orderly line.
Xie Guanqi immediately looked up, alert—but he didn’t move.
The man rushed to Lin Zhengdu’s table, disheveled and weeping.
“Doctor Lin! Please—save my wife!”
The crowd erupted in whispers.
“Isn’t that Li Erlang?”
“Wasn’t his wife fine before?”
“I saw her recently—she was heavily pregnant, walking by the pavilion!”
…
Lin Zhengdu swallowed her dried cherry. “Speak clearly. What happened?”
“My wife—she’s hemorrhaging during childbirth! The midwife says she won’t survive—Doctor Lin, I know you’re not an ordinary physician, please—!”
Before he could finish, Lin Zhengdu grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.
“Then why are you wasting time talking? Lead the way!”
Without needing instruction, Xie Guanqi slung both medicine baskets over his shoulders and followed.
They rushed to Li Erlang’s home.
Even before reaching the gate, they heard wailing from inside—like mourning for the dead.
The moment Li Erlang heard it, he collapsed in grief.
Lin Zhengdu sighed, stepped over him, and strode into the delivery room.
At the door, family members clung to the midwife, refusing to let her leave.
The sturdy woman was held fast, on the verge of tears herself.
When she saw Lin Zhengdu, it was like seeing a savior.
“Doctor Lin! Thank heavens you’re here! Let go of me—I’ve done all I can! Let her take a look!”
Lin Zhengdu shoved aside those crowding her. “Everyone out. Boil water. No one comes in without my permission.”
Xie Guanqi stepped forward, lifting people aside like chickens and tossing them out the door.