Aman fed him while also sneaking bites into her own mouth.
Wild vegetable buns—so fragrant!
“Zhao Ye, is it good?”
He nodded. “Mm, delicious.”
It was a taste he had never experienced before.
Aman offered him another bun, but this time Zhao Ye didn’t open his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“You eat. I’m full.”
He had already eaten four or five, yet Aman still held the last bun.
Aman froze for a moment, then hurriedly said, “Eat more! That way you’ll recover faster. There are plenty more in the pot outside!”
Zhao Ye knew the pot was empty.
He turned away, unwilling to meet her gaze. “Aman, I can’t eat anymore.”
Aman tightened her grip on the bun. “Then… I’ll go find work this afternoon and try to get more white flour. I’ll make dumplings too!”
“…Mm,” he replied, his voice dull.
Aman couldn’t see his expression. She bit into a bun herself, still only half full.
Only three buns remained. Aman didn’t dare eat more. There wasn’t much flour left, and the next time she could get supplies was uncertain. She had to save them for a rainy day.
Zhao Ye’s priority now wasn’t just his paralyzed body, but also his desperate need for nourishment.
Before reaching Ningzhou, he had been hanging by a thread. Without Aman, he probably would have died on the road. The emperor didn’t care, and the officials were only tasked with delivering him. Whether he arrived alive or dead was irrelevant.
If he had caught a disease or suffered an accident along the way, it would have been his fate.
The emperor had many sons; if one prince died, another would take his place.
Aman had seen the cruelty of the imperial family firsthand. If the emperor could treat his own son this way, how much more merciless to outsiders? She couldn’t help but sigh.
She stuffed the last bun into her mouth, saving the remaining three for lunch.
“Zhao Ye.”
Aman tidied up and called, hoping for a response.
“I’m here.”
His voice came from the room, and Aman felt overjoyed—a good sign!
“I’m going out to see if there’s a doctor and maybe find some work. I’ll be back by noon!” she said, her voice gradually fading as she approached the door.
“Aman…”
By then, Aman had already locked the door; he could no longer call out to her.
She double-checked the lock before leaving, making sure it was secure. She planned to go further out, looking for a cheap doctor who could help.
She didn’t know medicine and didn’t know how to treat Zhao Ye. If she got lucky—or unlucky—she might stumble onto someone who could help.
Zhao Ye had iron chains on his legs, restricting him from leaving town, but Aman was free to come and go.
She left the county and went into a remote village, asking house to house if anyone knew a doctor.
“Little girl, is someone in your family sick?”
A woman, about twenty-five or twenty-six, with a bamboo basket on her back and a large pregnant belly, spoke from behind.
“Yes. My elder brother is very sick. Do you know a doctor, ma’am?”
Seeing Aman wasn’t local, the woman smiled. “I’m not a ‘ma’am.’ I’m just the hunter’s wife in this village. Call me Aunt Lan.”
The woman led Aman to a semi-blind traveling doctor known in the village. Everyone came to him for treatment.
Aman explained Zhao Ye’s condition. The doctor thought for a moment.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
Aman’s heart skipped a beat. Zhao Ye was a deposed crown prince. If anyone learned that…
“Don’t worry,” said the old half-blind doctor. “Every year, outsiders come through Ningzhou.”
He searched in the dim light through his baskets of dried herbs, smelling this one and that one, then packed the necessary herbs for Aman.
“Take these home. Boil them for him,” he instructed.
Aman counted the coins in her hand. “This is all I have.”
The doctor took two copper coins. “This is enough. Keep the rest.”
Aman hugged the herbs tightly. “Thank you, thank you so much!”
She ran from the village, wiping tears from her face.
Despite her own hardships and barely having enough to eat, she felt the warmth of the old doctor’s kindness.
He must have known she was bringing a criminal—Zhao Ye, exiled here. Those sent to Ningzhou were all criminals, some with the most heinous crimes.
Aman couldn’t help it; tears fell as she ran. Near the little courtyard, she tried to compose herself.
Pushing the door open, she called, “Zhao Ye, I’m back!”
Soon, the sounds of her busy activity reached him.
She had run far, and it was almost dark when she returned.
The three buns she had left beside him were untouched. She had placed them there in case she was gone too long—they were within easy reach, just turn and bite.
Though rough, it was enough to fill his stomach. Everything else was secondary.
“I found a doctor today. He prescribed a lot of herbs for your injuries. I met a good person—he only charged me two copper coins for all this!” Aman said while unpacking the herbs.
The herbs were mostly collected and dried by the doctor himself. He explained their uses: some for brewing medicine for Zhao Ye to drink, others to boil for his bath.
He also said not to throw away used herbs. Wrap them and boil again to make a hot compress for Zhao Ye. Every bit of the herb should be used.
Zhao Ye lay quietly in the drafty house. Luckily, Ningzhou hadn’t seen rain recently; otherwise, they wouldn’t even have shelter.
“Aman,”
Hearing him call, she paused her work.
“What is it?”
He looked at the buns. “I ate too much today. Lying here, the buns might spoil in this weather.”
Aman had only eaten a small amount in the morning, saving the rest. She had spent the entire day outside, exhausted and worn out, yet still thought of his needs first.