The windows were tightly shut. Candlelight flickered, and the sharp, choking scent of fresh blood filled the room, making one dizzy.
Lifting the bed curtain, Lin Zhengdu looked inside. The woman in labor lay pale as paper, gasping for breath—taking in far less than she let out. She was so exhausted she couldn’t even cry out.
Xie Guanqi stood a little farther away, making no effort to avoid looking. His calm gaze swept over the blood-soaked bed. “Do medical cultivators have spells for delivering babies?”
“Of course not,” Lin Zhengdu replied curtly. “Save the mother first. As for the child—we’ll see. If it can be saved, we save it. If not, we let it go.”
“Won’t you ask the family outside?”
Her brows furrowed. “What’s there to ask? The mother comes first.”
In truth, medical cultivators in this world weren’t quite the same as physicians.
At first, Lin Zhengdu had often confused the two. It was only after she began cultivating under Fairy Peilan that she realized—most medical cultivators didn’t actually practice medicine.
The path required specific spiritual roots: water, wood, or earth. If one’s parents possessed any of these, there was a chance—like drawing a rare prize—to awaken a healing spiritual root.
Those chosen for this path could repair wounds with spiritual energy alone.
If they wished, they could even mend a shattered vase the same way.
And cultivation, after all, was something best started young.
Lin Zhengdu had seen people begin studying medicine in their forties or fifties—
But never someone starting cultivation at that age.
(Though she suspected the former might not be entirely sane.)
In any case, most medical cultivators focused on techniques and surviving tribulations. Very few wasted time on actual medical study.
Healing relied entirely on spiritual energy.
What if your body was too weak to be repaired by it?
Then go home and wait to die.
Lin Zhengdu had come to accept this reality rather quickly.
At first, she’d thought: If people can cultivate immortality, why still study medicine? Humanity truly never stops making things harder for itself.
But once she realized it required no years of study, no clinical experience—just spells—
She concluded that those who chose this path were, in fact, perfectly rational.
By the time the sun set, the treatment—combining pure medical skill with herbal remedies—was finally complete.
Mother and daughter were safe.
The woman, a slice of licorice root between her lips, slipped into unconsciousness.
Lin Zhengdu removed the long needles from the woman’s acupoints, snapping the used ones and tossing them into a basin of ash. She had administered life-preserving herbs, stitched the wounds, and stopped the bleeding.
The process had been bloody and grim—
But the result was good.
Only then did she turn her attention to the baby.
A tiny infant girl, red all over, wrinkled like a little monkey.
Lin Zhengdu could lift her with one hand. She wrapped the baby in torn bedsheets, wiped her down hastily, and handed her off to the midwife.
She wasn’t used to holding something so fragile.
Even after letting go, she still felt the faint weight lingering in her hands, and glanced down unconsciously.
While she was looking at her hands, Xie Guanqi turned his head and watched her.
It was the first time he had looked at someone so intently.
In the bright candlelight, shadows of loose strands of hair flickered across her profile. Her thin eyelids drooped slightly; even the sharp bridge of her nose seemed delicate.
A fine sheen of sweat covered her skin, giving it a soft glow.
Her hair had been tied up for convenience during the procedure, exposing her neck—where a streak of dark, dried blood stood out starkly against her pale skin.
Li Erlang, now awake, stumbled into the room, already wailing—
Only to have a cloth stuffed into his mouth by Lin Zhengdu.
“Your wife is exhausted. Don’t disturb her. Go look at your child.”
He nodded tearfully and shuffled over.
At the sight of the frail infant, he burst into tears again, pressing his face against the baby’s still-bloodied cheek.
Lin Zhengdu washed her hands with hot water, packed away her scalpel, sutures, and tools, and stepped out.
As she passed by Xie Guanqi, their sleeves brushed.
The stifling, blood-scented air shifted—
And he caught the faint fragrance of herbs from her.
Xie Guanqi rarely fell ill.
But he wasn’t unfamiliar with medicinal scents.
Still, the scent on Lin Zhengdu was different from anything he had encountered before.
When he had lain dying from plague poison, unconscious at death’s edge—
It was this very scent that had pulled him back.
Like a net cast into the abyss.
Lowering his gaze, he took a quiet breath and followed her out, still carrying both medicine baskets.
Standing beside her, Lin Zhengdu sniffed lightly, catching the lingering scent of blood on him—much like her own.
She held out a hand for her basket.
He silently removed the lighter one and returned it to her.
“A whole body reeking of blood,” she said. “Let’s go to the bathhouse and clean up.”
Then, with a teasing smile, she added, “The bathhouse here separates men and women.”
But instead of the embarrassment she expected, he simply nodded.
Bored, she turned to leave—
When suddenly, his hand reached out.
His fingertips brushed her neck.
It was fast—too fast to react.
His touch was hot, like a spark grazing her skin.
By the time she staggered back, clutching her neck and glaring at him, his hand had already fallen.
“There was blood on your neck,” he said calmly. “I burned it off.”
“…Don’t touch a girl’s neck so casually. It’s rude!”
“I wasn’t touching you casually,” he replied seriously. “I was removing the blood.”
She glared at him.
He met her gaze without a trace of guilt, his upturned eyes reflecting her faintly.
Beneath her palm, her skin still burned faintly from the heat.
Eventually, she grew tired of glaring.
“Twisting logic. Apologize.”
He frowned, puzzled, but obedient. “Doctor Lin, I’m sorry.”
She snorted, turned, and strode away.
He scratched the back of his head and followed.
They walked in silence until they reached the bathhouse.
The owner greeted Lin Zhengdu warmly and waved them in without charge.
She came often, so a private hot pool had been reserved for her, screened off from others—and far from the men’s baths.
On a small table nearby were combs, snacks, a bronze mirror, and clean clothes.
After soaking for a while, Lin Zhengdu moved to the edge and propped up the mirror.
Her long hair, freshly washed, clung to her back like wet seaweed.
In the mirror, her flushed, damp face looked softer than usual.
She brushed aside her hair and touched her neck.
Xie Guanqi’s control over his spiritual energy had been precise—he had burned away the blood without harming her skin.
Even the faint redness from the heat had vanished.
And yet—
That strange sensation remained.
Her skin still seemed filled with his pure, active fire energy.
His power was too refined—
And it directly countered her water-wood dual roots.
That brief touch had made her hair stand on end.
She had almost slapped him.
Only seeing his face had stopped her.
She flipped the mirror face-down with a clack and rubbed her neck.
It didn’t help.
The warmth lingered—
As if someone unfamiliar were still touching her.
After bathing and changing, she kept unconsciously rubbing her neck.
Only when the hairdresser asked if she needed help styling her hair did she stop, sitting down as if nothing were wrong.
She picked a hairstyle resembling rabbit ears, adorned with sparkling purple flowers and silver lotus hairpins.
Meanwhile, Xie Guanqi finished early and waited outside.
The owner brought him pastries and told him Lin Zhengdu would take a while.
As he ate, he noticed the same food stall owner from earlier arriving—this time with her sign changed to:
“Yao’s Night Snacks.”
Remembering Lin Zhengdu’s earlier question, he looked more closely.
The owner noticed and smiled. “Young master, want some late-night snacks?”
“No.”
She adjusted the sign. “Next time Doctor Lin asks about the writing—just praise it.”
“…Why?”
“Because she wrote it herself!”
He fell silent and looked again.
Soon, the curtain lifted.
Lin Zhengdu stepped out, refreshed and radiant.
Her hair was styled into twin peaks like rabbit ears, adorned with shimmering ornaments. Her outfit matched in soft purple and white.
For a moment, Xie Guanqi froze.
He had never seen her like this before.
“Night stall’s here? Perfect—I’m hungry.”
She ordered food, then turned to him. “What did you get?”
“I don’t eat late-night meals.”
“That doesn’t count. We skipped dinner, so this is dinner.”
After a long explanation, he simply watched her moving lips, confused.
Why is she talking to me again?
In the end, he ate with her.
But she kept rubbing her neck, until the skin turned red.
“Did you twist your neck?” he asked.
She froze, then brushed it off vaguely.
The fire energy had mostly dissipated—
But she was a cultivator.
And a water-root one at that.
Taking a large bite of spicy stew, she thought bitterly:
I hate sword cultivators with fire spiritual roots!
Afterward, they returned to the clinic, collected supplies gifted by townspeople, and began their journey back.
The mountain path was long.
Lin Zhengdu tied up her skirt to walk more easily, removing her decorative hairpins.
By the time she looked up, Xie Guanqi was already ahead.
Didn’t expect him to be in such a hurry, she thought.
The forest at night was quiet, lit only by scattered moonlight.
After a while, she regretted her choice of shoes.
At the river, she called out, “Wait—I need to change shoes and rinse my feet!”
He took her basket without a word.
“Thanks,” she said brightly. “You’re very considerate, young master.”
“I’m not young,” he frowned.
“You’re younger than me.”
“How old are you?”
She smiled slyly. “Older than you.”
He fell silent.
At the river, she removed her shoes, shaking out pebbles, then dipped her bare feet into the cold water.
Her water affinity stirred the river’s energy, blue ripples gathering around her.
At last—
The lingering fire energy on her neck was washed away.
She sighed in relief.
Xie Guanqi stayed back, uncomfortable with the strong water aura.
But his gaze still drifted over.
Through the shimmering water, he saw her feet beneath the surface.
Moonlight fractured around her ankles.
Her skirt gathered at her knees.
It reminded him—
Of the celestial maidens from stories he’d heard long before he began cultivation.
The midwife tried to run—
But he caught her by the back of the neck.
“I—I’ll go boil water?” she stammered.
He released her. “Mm. Go.”