The old doctor stood up after a long moment of focused work, having freshly bandaged the wound. He turned to face the family—a fatherless household of a widow and her children—and sighed.
“The fever has broken for now, but it will return tonight. Do you have any strong liquor? Prepare some; you’ll need it to sponge him down when the fever spikes again. And for heaven’s sake, do not wrap him up so tightly. This illness was caused by a wound left untreated, allowing the fever to fester.”
Madam Yu’s face drained of color. Her lips trembled, and she remained speechless for a long moment. Just moments ago, she had been silently criticizing her daughter-in-law’s rash behavior, but now she couldn’t even bring herself to look at Ye Jia.
Having been raised in luxury with a retinue of servants, she knew nothing of such practical matters. Now that they had fallen on hard times, she realized how utterly useless she had become.
“Enough,” the old doctor said, seeing the tears welling in her eyes. He didn’t dwell on her distress and simply told her to find some liquor.
Madam Yu stared at him, bewildered. “Liquor? What for?”
Before the old doctor could answer, Ye Jia hurried back into the room, carrying a bowl of strong liquor.
She knew enough about basic home remedies to understand the doctor’s instructions. The moment he mentioned the fever, she had rushed out to borrow some alcohol.
In the northwest, every household kept a supply of strong liquor. In the harsh winters, a single sip could send warmth spreading from the stomach to the rest of the body. Both men and women drank it, but the Zhou family, being newcomers, couldn’t stomach the harsh brew and kept none in their home.
Ye Jia’s reputation in the village was poor, and she had to visit several houses before someone finally lent her a bowl. She had rushed back as quickly as she could.
The old doctor caught the scent of the liquor and glanced at Ye Jia with approval. He ignored Madam Yu, simply telling her to bring the bowl over.
It was clear to him now who the capable one in the family was. He directed all his instructions to Ye Jia.
“If he runs a high fever tonight,” he said, gesturing for her to unbutton the man’s clothes on the bed, “soak a cloth in the liquor and wipe his armpits, the backs of his knees, and his neck. Do his limbs as well. Keep wiping until the fever breaks.”
Ye Jia nodded, taking the instructions to heart.
The old doctor moved to the table and wrote a prescription for her. “It’s a stroke of luck in a bad situation. Your husband’s injuries were severe, but the broken leg was set quickly and correctly. With proper care, he shouldn’t end up with a limp.”
The words your husband made Ye Jia flinch. She pressed her lips together, thanked the doctor, and fell silent. Beside her, Madam Yu let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
The family thanked the old doctor profusely. He left a bottle of medicine for external wounds before preparing to depart.
The consultation fee and the cost of the medicine came to one and a half taels.
When it came time to pay, Madam Yu’s purse was empty. She stood by, stammering and hesitating, unable to produce the silver.
Ye Jia stepped forward and paid without a word. Her decisiveness left Madam Yu staring at her, eyes wide with shock.
Ye Jia escorted the old doctor out, then turned and headed into town to fill the prescription.
The donkey cart they’d hired hadn’t left yet, and it was the perfect ride for the old doctor.
After arriving in town, Ye Jia dropped him off at his clinic before heading back to West Street on her own.
She couldn’t wait for Madam Yu to get paid. The thought of their grain bins sitting empty would keep her awake at night. In one go, she bought fifty pounds of flour and fifty pounds of millet, along with a few staples like firewood, rice, oil, and salt. Then, on a whim, she visited a household and bought four small chicks.
I can’t afford cattle or sheep, Ye Jia thought, but four little chicks to lay eggs for a treat—that’s doable.
By the time she’d finished her shopping, the total came to nearly two taels of silver.
The silver she’d just earned was still warm in her hand, and already more than half of it was gone. Her heart ached at the loss. Well, I’ve already spent this much, she decided. I might as well go all out. She bought a pound of meat at the butcher’s, along with some Bai Song, radishes, and shepherd’s purse, bringing the total to exactly two taels.
By the time she returned to the village, laden with bags and bundles, the rain had stopped.
Madam Yu heard the commotion and ran out. When she saw the abundance of grain, she circled the donkey cart in shock. Then her gaze shifted to Ye Jia, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. It wasn’t that she was unhappy to see the food—it was that she knew her daughter-in-law all too well.
Every last penny Ye Jia earned was sent to her maternal home, leaving her with nothing. How had a single trip to town resulted in all this flour and millet?
Madam Yu held back her harsh words, choosing instead to ask indirectly where the grain had come from.
Ye Jia, however, was too busy to answer. She held four small chicks close to her chest, wrapped tightly to keep them from freezing.
Madam Yu’s smile vanished. She feared the girl had begged for the food from that man in town. If that were true, she would rather starve than eat it.
“This is medicine for your injury,” Ye Jia said, ignoring the shifting expression on Madam Yu’s face. She carefully set the chicks aside and pulled a large bundle of herbs from her coat. “Start taking it today. There should be enough for about three months.”
Madam Yu hesitated, unsure whether to accept the medicine.
Seeing her reaction, Ye Jia’s mind raced. She raised an eyebrow. “I pawned my jewelry for the money.”
Madam Yu’s eyes flickered. She lowered her head and immediately stopped asking questions.
She took the herbs and hurried toward the kitchen.
Ye Jia felt a pang of guilt. After all, the original owner of this body had actually done those things. Though she hadn’t gone too far with the man in town, it was only natural for Madam Yu to be suspicious.
The remaining grain, oil, and salt were still sitting outside. In the countryside, food was life itself; if left unattended, it could easily be stolen. Ye Jia hurried to bring everything inside.
Fifty pounds of flour and fifty pounds of millet—enough to feed a family of four for three months. Ye Jia finally felt a small sense of security.
Madam Yu was busy with the medicine, so Ye Jia quickly prepared the meat.
As a highly educated, single corporate worker, Ye Jia had spent most of her time on her career, but her remaining hours were dedicated to mastering life skills. Her most impressive feat was her cooking. If she hadn’t been so short on cash and only bought a single pound of meat, she could have whipped up ten different dishes.
She rinsed the meat in clean water, kneaded the dough, and then turned to chop the shepherd’s purse. She planned to make shepherd’s purse and pork dumplings. With so little meat, cooking it all as braised pork would be a one-time treat, but far too extravagant. Given the Zhou family’s dire situation, she had no idea how long it would take her to figure out a way to make money. A taste of meat would be enough for now. She decided to stir-fry the Chinese cabbage with vinegar and save the radish for pickles.
After mincing the meat, she mixed it with the chopped shepherd’s purse. She added minced green onion, ginger, and a pinch of salt, quickly preparing the filling.
Madam Yu watched from the side as Ye Jia folded the dumplings, her fingers deftly shaping each one into a plump little parcel.
Steam from the small stove nearby wafted around Ye Jia’s face. Madam Yu wanted to help, but as she opened her mouth, she remembered that since their exile, every meal she had cooked was either raw on top or burnt on the bottom. Her face flushed with embarrassment.
After a long moment, she finally asked, “Do you want me to help with the fire?”
While the medicine continued to simmer in the small clay pot, Ye Jia quickly wrapped thirty dumplings. Madam Yu simply nodded, her eyes fixed on the task.
She hurried to sit by the stove as Ye Jia scooped a ladle of water into the pot to rinse it. Once clean, she filled it again, brought the water to a boil, and then dropped in the dumplings. When they floated to the surface, she scooped them out.
They shared the thirty dumplings—twelve each for Ye Jia and Madam Yu, and six for the child.
Madam Yu, who had endured three years of barely edible meals, nearly wept at the taste of real food. The child devoured her portion, then looked up at Ye Jia with a beaming smile. Only then did Ye Jia learn the girl’s name: Zhou Weirui. Her nickname was Rui’er.
After everyone had eaten their fill, Ye Jia grabbed a handful of millet to cook a porridge.
Millet—known in later times as a staple for its health benefits—was excellent for porridge. It was sweet and savory, known to harmonize the stomach, benefit the kidneys, clear heat, and detoxify the body. Though its texture was coarser than rice or wheat, when cooked thoroughly, it became soft, fragrant, and sweet.
Ye Jia steamed the remaining meat in a soup pot. While she busied herself in the kitchen, the man in the east room began to mutter deliriously.
His voice was a low, fragmented murmur, muffled as if by a thick fog. If one wasn’t listening closely, the words were almost impossible to discern.
After Madam Yu finished her meal and returned to the room, she took one look at the man on the bed and panicked. She rushed back out to find Ye Jia.
Ye Jia didn’t waste a moment. She wiped her wet hands on her clothes and hurried into the east room, pressing her palm to the man’s forehead. His skin was scorching—hot enough to fry an egg.
“Bring me the wine,” she ordered. Shaodaizi was strong, but its alcohol content wasn’t as high as pure spirits; it wouldn’t be as effective. Seeing Madam Yu standing there, utterly lost, Ye Jia frowned and took charge. “Mother, go boil a pot of water.”
Though confused, Madam Yu obeyed without question, spurred by Ye Jia’s decisive tone.
Ye Jia moved quickly, stripping him of his clothes. He looked lean, but beneath the fabric, his frame was surprisingly well-proportioned. She swiftly wiped down his limbs, then rose to fetch a basin of cold water.
The moment she stepped out, no one noticed the man’s eyes rolling beneath his tightly closed lids.
Zhou Jingchen felt as if he were sinking into a mire, a pair of hands dragging him down. The panicked cries of eunuchs echoed in his ears, along with the voice of Gu Mingyue, who knelt at his feet, weeping uncontrollably as she cursed him.
“You forced me to do this,” she sobbed. “I had no choice…”
Empress Zhaowu, once the most favored woman in the empire, glared at the man on the daybed with eyes full of venom. Her hand, nails painted a brilliant crimson, clamped tight around his dangling wrist, the veins on the back of her hand bulging with strain.
“If you had only listened to Cheng Yi’s advice and adopted Yi’er,” she spat, “I would never have resorted to this! I would have let you rule as regent, or even welcomed you into my harem without complaint. Why did you have to drive me to this?”
“Zhou Yun’an, am I not beautiful enough? Why won’t you even look at me?”
She stared at him, her gaze desperate and wide-eyed. “If you wished, I would have been your bedchamber maid. I would have done anything… but you looked right through me! Why? Every man in the world loves me, so why don’t you?”
“If you won’t love me, then I’ll kill you!”
Her words dripped with blood-soaked hatred, yet the man on the bed remained impassive, his expression utterly blank.
His indifference only fueled her madness. She collapsed to her knees, her wails of grief and resentment threatening to incinerate him. A single drop of bright red blood trickled from the man’s lips. As a wave of excruciating pain tore through his abdomen, he met it with a strange, detached calm.
The sudden, icy touch jolted Zhou Jingchen from his fading consciousness. His eyes snapped open.
Ye Jia straightened her aching back and tossed the alcohol-soaked cloth back into the basin, exhaling slowly. A double-pronged approach should break the fever much faster, she thought.
Just as Ye Jia was about to take a break, a voice called out from the courtyard.
She glanced out the door and turned to the child standing beside her. “Stay here and watch him. If his fever returns, call me right away.”
With that, she stepped out of the room.
On the bed, the man watched her back with a silent, bewildered gaze. He took in his surroundings, his eyes widening in shock when they landed on the child standing by his bedside.
Meanwhile, Ye Jia walked out to the courtyard. A woman with a square face waited by the gate. She looked to be in her thirties, her head wrapped in a floral cloth. Her upturned eyes and downturned mouth gave her a harsh, unapproachable expression. This was no stranger—it was Madam Zhang, Ye Jia’s sister-in-law.
“Sister-in-law, you look like you’re in a hurry. Has something happened at home?”
Madam Zhang forced a smile and stepped forward, her tone uncharacteristically placating. “It’s nothing major, Jia-niang. Chunfen says she didn’t mean to push you the other day. She just stumbled and accidentally bumped into you. You just happened to lose your footing, which is why you fell into the river. She was terrified, too—she immediately sent for help to get you out. Who knew someone else would find you first? She knows she was wrong now. Do you think you could come home tomorrow and explain things to Father?”