Lai Fu stood awkwardly in front of the door, unsure whether to knock or not.
Just as he was preparing to leave, he heard the Madam’s voice ring out from inside the room. “Lai Fu, what are you doing standing out there? Come in.”
Lai Fu was startled, never having expected that his standing there would actually be discovered, and for a moment his awkwardness only deepened, his hands and feet not knowing where to go.
He could only brace himself for the possibility of seeing something he shouldn’t see, take a deep breath, and push the door open—
Qi Yan’s brow was tightly furrowed. Just now Miao Shuang had been working the tendons in his right hand, and it had nearly hurt him to death—this Miao person truly bore a deep grudge against him, pressing down on him as if trying to kill him.
Even now his hand still trembled slightly, the skin near his wrist flushed red, but the effect was remarkable—his fingers had become much more nimble.
He slowly fastened the clothes he hadn’t finished buttoning before, but to Lai Fu’s eyes, this naturally transformed into “the General and the Madam had just finished a passionate bout, and the General was only now putting his clothes back on,” and the look in his eyes grew even more complicated.
The General and the Madam really do dress quickly—they must be quite practiced at it, like that time before, in the ancestral hall…
Lai Fu sighed, feeling it was best not to say anything more. If the General wanted it, and the Madam was willing to satisfy him, the two of them consented to each other—it was none of a lowly servant’s business.
The General and the Madam really do have deep affection for each other.
To be a busybody at a time like this would be far too impolite.
I only hope the General doesn’t knock himself out again—though looking at how pale his face is, with what seems like cold sweat on his forehead, it really does seem like quite a strain after all.
Sigh.
Lai Fu walked forward, his mood heavy. “Yesterday the Madam said to have this servant give the General a massage every afternoon.”
Miao Shuang: “You’ve come at just the right time. Go ahead and start now—I could use a rest.”
Lai Fu: “……”
Sigh. The General’s health is poor, yet he still insists on wanting it, and every time it wears out the Madam. The Madam worries over the household affairs on the General’s behalf, and must also tend to the General himself—one can see how deep and earnest her affection is.
I should do more to share the burden for the Madam’s sake. I mustn’t fail to live up to her great expectations.
Thinking this, Lai Fu cheered himself up again. Qi Yan watched the expressions shift back and forth across his face, rather baffled.
After finishing today’s massage, Qi Yan—already worn out from his illness and from the ordeal Miao Shuang had put him through—felt his body relax, and he went to rest early.
After a full three days of rest, once the last application of medicine was finished, Miao Shuang untied the bandage from his wrist. “How does it feel?”
Qi Yan flexed his right hand.
The tendons no longer hurt at all. That previous sense of stiffness had vanished as well—if not for the scar still remaining on his wrist, he would hardly have been able to tell that this hand had ever been injured.
He tried holding chopsticks, gripping a writing brush—his fingers moved smoothly and nimbly, with no difference at all from before his injury. It even made him feel as though he could once again grip a spear, draw a bow.
He couldn’t help but swallow, his throat moving with excitement, and gave voice to the first truly heartfelt praise since they’d come to know each other. “This Gu technique of yours… is truly extraordinary.”
If a Gu technique like this—or rather, this kind of medical skill—could be used on the battlefield, could the soldiers who lost hands and feet to war also have their bodies made whole again?
“Naturally,” Miao Shuang said, arms crossed, looking rather pleased with himself. “You still don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
He waited for the other to praise him a bit more, but instead saw Qi Yan drift off into a daze for some reason, and instantly grew displeased again, lightly kicking his calf. “What are you thinking about?”
Qi Yan came back to himself. “Nothing.”
He extended his left hand toward Miao Shuang. “Can you treat this one now?”
Miao Shuang’s mouth twisted to one side. “Not treating it.”
Qi Yan: “?”
Wasn’t that the agreement? Why go back on it now?
“Your body’s condition is far too poor right now. I have no interest in wrestling someone back from King Yama’s hands every single day—we’ll nurse you back to health for a while first.”
Qi Yan: “……”
It was only a fever, nothing more. How was that such an exaggeration?
And besides, to stop halfway through the treatment—what kind of logic was that?
But no matter how unwilling he was, once Miao Shuang said it wasn’t to be treated, it wasn’t to be treated. Qi Yan was made to down bitter medicine for the better part of half a month straight, and had, remarkably, grown somewhat used to the terrible taste.
During the time he spent recuperating, the capital fully entered winter. The first snow fell, not too heavily, leaving a thin layer of accumulated snow on the roof tiles, dressing the entire General’s estate in a plain, unadorned white.
Qi Yan sat beneath the eaves, a heavy sable fur cloak draped over him, a warm hand-warmer pressed against his bandage-wrapped left wrist—whether or not it was because the medicine he’d been drinking during this time had truly taken effect, aside from the pain of the Gu worm’s bite during treatment, he no longer felt any other discomfort.
Miao Shuang leaned against a pillar several steps away, reaching his hand out past the eaves to catch snowflakes, the fiery red fox-fur cloak vivid and blazing against this snowy scene.
Qi Yan’s gaze settled on him, lingering there for a while, when he suddenly heard him ask, “What does the snow in the great desert look like?”
Qi Yan was taken aback for a moment.
Recalling that this was something he’d murmured deliriously while sick, he pondered for a moment, looking toward the thin layer of snow in the courtyard. “It’s magnificent—rolling and undulating, stretching endlessly without border. On the dunes touched by sunlight, the snow there always melts first, like a winding, meandering river.”
Miao Shuang listened to his description, seeming able to picture that scene, one that would be absolutely impossible to see here in the capital, Yan’an.
“If I can ever return to the northern frontier again, I could take you to see it,” Qi Yan said.
Miao Shuang turned back to look at him with some surprise.
Just then, some commotion suddenly sounded from not far away, followed immediately by Lai Fu’s startled cry. “Watch out!”
Miao Shuang and Qi Yan turned their heads at the same moment—
Lai Fu had been carrying a basin of water to go pour it out, and failing to dodge in time as he passed a corner, collided head-on with someone running from the other direction.
It was a little girl of four or five, dressed in a festive red padded jacket. From the collision with him, her whole body went sprawling flat onto the ground with a smack, the hood of her padded jacket flopping down to cover her head, and the little wooden sword in her hand slipped from her grip, sliding across the ground to stop right in front of Qi Yan.
Lai Fu hurriedly set down the water basin and helped the girl up. “Are you all right?”
The snow on the ground had been scraped away in the shape of a person, revealing the paving stones beneath. Lai Fu patted the snow and dust off her jacket, then checked her hands, discovering that they had already turned red from the cold in the icy, snowy weather, both scraped raw and bleeding freely.
Lai Fu was startled and quickly asked, “Does it hurt?”
The girl lifted her small face, likewise flushed red from the cold, sniffled, and said crisply, “It doesn’t hurt!”
“……You child,” Lai Fu said, at a loss for words. “Come inside first, I’ll go find you some medicine.”
The moment he turned around, he spotted Miao Shuang not far off, and instantly looked as though he’d seen a savior. “Madam! Do you have any wound medicine?”
“All my medicines contain insects. Are you sure you want to use it?”
“This…”
Miao Shuang walked up to the girl and, deliberately trying to scare her, said with a smile. “Xiao Man, big brother’s going to treat your wound with bugs—are you scared?”
“Not scared,” Lu Xiaoman said, not frightened by him in the least. “Bugs are so fun! Daddy took me to catch crickets before—if you put two male crickets in one cage, they’ll fight each other. He also took me to catch fireflies to give to Mommy, they were so pretty, Mommy loved them!”
“Good, then hold out your hand.”
Lu Xiaoman obediently held out her hand.
Miao Shuang pulled a small box out from his sleeve, pinched out the Gu insect inside, and placed it onto her hand. The Gu insect, sensing the smell of blood, began feeding on her wound.
Lu Xiaoman poked at the plump white Gu insect. “Big Brother Miao Shuang, it looks so cute.”
“Once it turns into a moth you won’t think it’s cute anymore.”
“Moths are cute too.”
Qi Yan watched them from not far away, bending down to pick up the little wooden sword that had fallen beneath the steps.
This little girl is rather interesting—falling down like that and yet not crying or making a fuss at all, not even afraid of Miao Shuang’s Gu insect.
The Gu insect finished feeding on the tainted blood, leaving behind a transparent membrane on the surface of the wound, and the wound miraculously stopped bleeding. Lu Xiaoman said happily, “Big Brother Miao Shuang, my hand is all better!”
Miao Shuang withdrew the Gu insect. “The roads are slippery with snow—don’t go running all over the estate all the time.”
Lu Xiaoman agreed, then, remembering something, began looking around for the little sword she’d dropped.
Her gaze followed the marks on the ground over to where Qi Yan stood, and only then did she notice there was someone there.
She was so startled she immediately hid behind Lai Fu.
Just as small animals feared General Qi, children feared him too. Qi Yan held the little sword, softening his voice. “Whose child are you?”
“General, she’s the daughter of Accountant Lu from the accounting office—Lu Xiaoman,” Lai Fu said.
Qi Yan had heard Miao Shuang mention the matter of the accountant before, and had guessed as much. These past days, he’d occasionally heard the sound of a child’s laughter and chatter around the estate, but he had been recuperating all this time and rarely left his room, so he had never actually met her.
Lai Fu crouched down again and said to Lu Xiaoman. “Xiaoman, that’s General Qi, the master of this estate. Go on and greet the General.”
Lu Xiaoman was a little scared, but still worked up her courage and stepped forward. “Uncle… Qi, hello.”
Qi Yan: “……”
Uncle?
She calls Miao Shuang ‘big brother,’ but calls him ‘uncle’?
Was he really that old?