Guan Xiyue supported the black-clad handsome man toward the small inner room. Being strong and sturdy, she didn’t feel his weight at all.
The room was small, cluttered with old junk. There was no bed, just some wheat straw in the corner.
Guan Xiyue placed him on the straw and finally saw that his injuries were severe. Deep wounds ran across his shoulder and leg—truly shocking. His clothes were soaked with blood, though the black fabric made it less obvious.
Should she hide this badly injured man?
Before she could decide, Guan Xiyue quickly cleaned the bloodstains from the floor. She gathered all the remaining medicine. She remembered that the powder on his head wound was likely for stopping bleeding.
Carefully, she sprinkled the powder on his wounds and tied them with cloth strips. The shoulder wound was lighter, and the bleeding stopped effectively. The thigh wound was deep, and the cloth quickly soaked through with fresh blood.
Kneeling before him, Guan Xiyue recalled basic first-aid knowledge.
Without a tourniquet, how to stop the bleeding? She remembered that pressure should be applied closer to the part of the limb nearer the heart. Thinking this, she pressed her palm firmly on the wound.
The black-clad handsome man awoke groggily, his phoenix-like eyes flashing sharply. Weakly, he asked, “What are you trying to do? Take advantage of me in my condition?”
Guan Xiyue froze. Only then did she realize that pressing near his inner thigh made him think she was taking advantage of his injury.
She couldn’t help laughing in disbelief. What was this ancient man thinking? Did she really look that indecent?
After pressing firmly for two minutes and reapplying powder a few times, the bleeding finally stopped.
She finished bandaging the thigh wound and, to punish his accusation, tugged the cloth firmly. He shivered in pain but didn’t make a sound.
Guan Xiyue silently scolded herself for overthinking. What was there to argue with a severely injured handsome man? She then tied a neat butterfly knot on the bandage.
Ling Jingren struggled to stay conscious. He watched as the brightly dressed, plump woman exited the cluttered room and instructed her maid to bring food and medicinal soup.
Though plump, her voice was clear and pleasant.
Hearing the maid address her as “Concubine,” he was a little shocked. Marry a virtuous wife, take concubines for beauty—such a figure, and she was a concubine?
Waking from his daze, the plump concubine gave him a bowl of porridge, then later a bowl of medicine. In his drowsy state, he seemed to be pursued, running through a flurry of swords and blades…
Guan Xiyue touched the forehead of the little black handsome man (as she had nicknamed him in her heart). Unsurprisingly, he had a high fever.
What should she do? Seeing him struggle in his dream, would the fever cause harm? If he became delirious and spoke nonsense, it would be impossible to hide.
She rubbed her temple habitually, wondering whether to send Xiaoyun to fetch a doctor or buy fever medicine herself.
Suddenly, a cute, slightly dissatisfied voice sounded: “You finally noticed me.”
Guan Xiyue jumped, looking around—no one was there. Where did the voice come from? It sounded like a robotic effect.
She laughed at herself, realizing she was still thinking in modern terms despite transmigrating—expecting synthesized sound effects everywhere.
Rubbing her temple again, the mechanical voice spoke urgently: “Don’t lower your finger. I’m your spirit, the legendary Golden Finger, understand?”
Guan Xiyue was shocked but relieved. A spirit, a legendary Golden Finger? Heaven was finally starting to favor her.
It turned out that the opportunity was connected to the mole on her temple. By pressing on it, she could communicate with the spirit.
She was thrilled and instinctively communicated with the spirit through thoughts.
“What’s my Golden Finger?”
“That’s me! You can buy things from me.”
“What do I use to buy?”
“Real gold and silver. My goods are expensive, so you must earn plenty first.”
Through this communication, Guan Xiyue learned that the spirit’s shop had everything—small items like food, large items like information—but all were pricey.
The spirit gave an example: a meat bun cost ten wen, ten copper coins.
Guan Xiyue was stunned. “Why so expensive? What if I wanted a mobile phone—wouldn’t that be astronomical?”
The spirit replied helplessly: “Master, you’re overthinking. How would you use a phone in ancient times? Charge it? Where’s the network?”
Guan Xiyue dismissed such thoughts and focused on the urgent matter, asking the spirit: “Any fever medicine? Ordinary ibuprofen—reduces fever and inflammation. Without it, he might burn up or go delirious.”
The spirit was surprised by her audacity. Didn’t she just say to pay in gold and silver?
After some back-and-forth, Guan Xiyue said angrily: “This is a life-or-death emergency. Let me run a tab; I’ll pay later.”
The spirit, cautiously and reluctantly, said: “Master, not being stingy, just this once. If something goes wrong, I’ll disappear, and no one will accompany you in the ancient world. Ten taels of silver—remember, it’s a tab.”
Guan Xiyue silently nodded, sealing the deal. Suddenly, a pill of ibuprofen appeared in her hand.
She quickly fed it to the little black handsome man, washing it down with water.