The heavy, metallic clatter of armor broke the quiet stillness of the medicinal garden as a panting guard came running up the dirt path, his face flushed red from sprinting up the slope.
“Your Highness!” the guard gasped, coming to an abrupt halt and bowing frantically before Rulan and her escort.
“General Meng has issued an immediate recall! Following the security breach, He insists that Your Highness return to the main guest pavilion at once for an updated security assessment!”
Rulan let out a slow breath, her eyes remaining calm.
“Very well.”
Beside her, Master Lu Zhen slowly withdrew his fingers from her wrist.
The grim, rigid tension on his face dissolved instantly, replaced once more by his usual dry, unbothered expression—a seamless mask drawn over whatever dark discovery his fingers had just read beneath her skin.
With four armored guards and a fresh runner standing directly over them, there was zero opportunity for him to speak openly.
Lu Zhen reached into his satchel, pulled out a small sheet of coarse yellow paper, and dipped a small brush into a traveling inkpot.
He wrote down several lines of precise, dark characters before folding the paper cleanly into a neat rectangle.
“This is the prescription for Her Highness’s ankle strain,” Lu Zhen said casually, holding the folded paper out to Rulan.
Rulan reached forward, her fingers brushing his as she took the paper.
As their eyes met for a fleeting second, she caught the quiet, intense gravity lingering deep within his gaze.
There was no doubt in her mind: this paper held far more than a simple remedy for a twisted joint.
“Take it exactly as prescribed, every day, without interruption,” Lu Zhen said, his voice quiet, steady, and laden with unspoken meaning.
“The ingredients must be prepared precisely as written if you wish to see a complete recovery.”
Rulan inclined her head slightly, tucking the paper into her inner sleeve.
“I understand, Master Lu. I will follow your instructions carefully.”
“Safe travels back to the capital, Princess,” Lu Zhen murmured, stepping back toward his herb beds as the guards formed a tight, protective box around her to lead her back down the path.
The trek back down the winding mountain path was slow and heavily monitored.
Rulan threw an arm over Lian’er’s shoulder, leaning slightly into her maid’s side to make the fake ankle sprain look completely convincing.
Lian’er, dutiful as ever, gritted her teeth and supported her mistress’s weight with utmost care, completely convinced that the rough mountain roots had truly taken a toll on the princess.
The moment they crossed the threshold into the private guest pavilion, a junior maid who had been waiting anxiously near the entrance rushed forward to greet them.
“Your Highness!” the junior maid gasped, bowing low before stepping in to help support Rulan’s other side.
“General Meng’s officers came by moments ago. They asked that Your Highness rest inside while the guard rotation is finalized for the evening.”
“We understand,” Lian’er said, waving the junior maid off once they reached the soft daybed.
“Bring a basin of warm water and fresh indoor robes, then leave us.”
The junior maid bowed quickly and hurried off toward the side chambers.
Lian’er gently helped Rulan sit back on the embroidered cushions, hovering over her like a worried mother hen.
She unlaced Rulan’s slippers and carefully inspected her right ankle.
Finding only a faint red mark from her earlier tumble on the dirt, Lian’er let out a massive, audible breath of relief.
She quickly retrieved the warm water brought by the junior maid, helping Rulan wash the dust from her hands and change into indoor robes.
Rulan let her maid fuss over the physical details, playing the part of a weary, recovering princess.
Only when Lian’er stepped into the adjacent tea room to dispose of the wash water did Rulan finally reach into her discarded sleeve and retrieve the folded square of coarse paper. Get faster updates on novelping.com.
Rulan unfolded the prescription against her lap, her eyes scanning the dark ink lines.
Several of the more complex herb names were unfamiliar to her, but she immediately recognized a few: wild bitter-root, dried angelica, liquorice root, and wolfberry.
Her brow furrowed slightly as she studied the quantities.
This was not an ointment for a bruised ankle.
There were no topical cooling agents, external poultices, or salves anywhere on the page.
Every ingredient was meant to be boiled together into a concentrated decoction.
Rulan studied the list again.
Some of the herbs appeared intended to support circulation and digestion.
Others seemed suited to strengthening someone weakened by prolonged illness.
It was not a simple remedy for a twisted joint.
Beyond that, however, Rulan couldn’t say.
She knew enough about medicine to recognize when something was unusual.
She did not know enough about the physicians of this world to determine exactly what Lu Zhen had seen in her pulse.
And that bothered her.
She called out toward the tea room.
“Lian’er.”
Lian’er stepped back into the chamber holding a fresh kettle of warm tea.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“You grew up around the capital’s apothecary districts, didn’t you?” Rulan asked casually, keeping her tone light and offhanded.
“What is wild bitter-root and angelica generally prescribed for?”
Lian’er paused, tilting her head as she thought.
“Bitter-root is usually used in tiny amounts to purge fever or clear heavy stagnant fluid from the organs, Your Highness. But it is very harsh if not balanced with sweet herbs like liquorice. Angelica is given to build up blood qi when someone has suffered deep exhaustion or severe blood loss.”
Rulan nodded slowly, staring down at the paper in her hand.
“Lian’er,” Rulan continued, her voice quiet and reflective.
“What medicines have I been taking regularly over the years? What did Physician Zhao usually prescribe when I felt weak?”
Lian’er set the kettle down, her face taking on a thoughtful, earnest expression.
“Physician Zhao’s prescriptions were always very gentle, Your Highness. He said your body was naturally delicate and prone to sudden, severe constitutional chills. Whenever you suffered from stomach discomfort, dizziness, or chest tightness, he prepared expensive, sweet tonics—ginseng, crushed pearl powder, and rare mountain snow lotus.”
Lian’er smiled softly, trying to offer comfort.
“He always said those sweet tonics were meant to soothe your fragile nerves and keep your body nourished.”
Rulan’s eyes narrowed as she compared the two approaches.
The difference was difficult to ignore.
Physician Zhao’s medicines had always been described as gentle restorative tonics.
They were meant to soothe her dizziness, stomach discomfort, weakness, and other recurring problems.
Lu Zhen’s prescription seemed to have an entirely different purpose.
It did not appear designed merely to make her feel better. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Several of its ingredients seemed intended to strengthen a body that had been weakened for a long time.
Rulan tapped one finger lightly against the folded paper.
She still didn’t know what Lu Zhen had discovered.
But she was beginning to suspect that he had found something far deeper than a weak constitution.
Rulan began sorting through what she actually knew.
Her body had been weak when she woke in it.
That much was undeniable.
The dizziness, exhaustion, stomach discomfort, poor stamina, and strange heaviness had existed long before she stopped taking Physician Zhao’s medicines.
Yet the mental fog had begun to lift after she stopped drinking those tonics.
That was the part she couldn’t ignore.
She had expected her body to remain weak.
She had not expected her mind to become clearer.
And now Lu Zhen had taken her pulse and gone grim.
Rulan stared at the prescription again.
She wasn’t going to accuse anyone based on suspicion alone.
She had survived too long to confuse a possibility with a fact.
But she also knew better than to ignore a pattern simply because she didn’t yet understand it.
She looked down at the small folded paper resting in her palm.
Lu Zhen had deliberately called it a “prescription for her ankle” because guards were standing directly over them, listening to every syllable.
He knew that if he spoke the truth out loud in that garden, those guards would instantly report his diagnosis to General Meng, possibly alerting whoever had been administering those slow, sweet tonics for the past years that their invisible trap had been exposed.
Whatever he had discovered, he had not wanted the guards hearing about it.
Neither did Rulan.
Rulan walked over to her writing desk.
She pulled open a small drawer beneath the inkstone tray, placed Lu Zhen’s prescription inside, and slid the wooden panel closed.
She would keep it somewhere no one else would think to look.
She had come to this mountain complex with a simple goal: escape the suffocating walls of the palace, bypass the Imperial Medical Bureau, and find an independent physician who could give her an honest assessment of her damaged body.
She had found one and she had secured his prescription.
But she still had no idea what he had discovered.
As the evening bells began to chime across the quiet valleys of Great Liang, Rulan stood by the window and looked toward the darkening mountains.
She had survived ten years in a world where a strange symptom could mean death.
She knew what fear looked like in a physician’s eyes.
And Lu Zhen had been afraid.
She just didn’t know what he had seen.