When the first ray of morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains and fell across his face, he snapped his eyes open, his body instinctively tensing as he waited for the familiar, on‑schedule agony of morning.
But the pain he expected never came.
At the stump of his left leg, there was only a faint soreness. That phantom limb pain—like countless ants gnawing at his bones—had vanished without a trace.
Huo Jingchuan propped himself up and pressed his hand against his leg in disbelief.
It really didn’t hurt anymore.
He turned his head, his gaze landing on the figure asleep at the small table beside the bed.
Jiang Mian was wrapped in that old padded jacket, curled into a little ball, sleeping soundly.
A few strands of hair fell along her cheeks, swaying gently with her breathing. She looked completely defenseless—soft and sweet, like a kitten that had just been weaned.
Who would have thought that this seemingly harmless “kitten” had dragged him back from the brink of death last night with just a few silver needles?
Huo Jingchuan’s expression grew complicated.
A barefoot doctor’s folk remedy?
Heh. That would fool ghosts, maybe.
That level of precision in locating acupoints, that finger strength—without more than a decade of hard training, it would be impossible.
This girl was hiding a big secret.
Just then, Jiang Mian’s eyelashes fluttered, and she woke up.
She rubbed her sleepy eyes, and when she looked up, she ran straight into Huo Jingchuan’s deep, dark gaze.
She startled, hurriedly wiped the corner of her mouth—where there was no drool at all—and instantly switched into “obedient little wife” mode.
“Brother Jingchuan, you’re awake? Your leg… does it still hurt?”
Huo Jingchuan withdrew his gaze and replied flatly, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Jiang Mian let out a sigh of relief. Then, as if remembering something, her almond-shaped eyes darted around. She leaned closer, lowered her voice, and said nervously,
“Brother Jingchuan, um… about me knowing medical skills—can you not tell anyone else?”
Huo Jingchuan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Jiang Mian twisted her fingers together, looking timid and pitiful. “My grandpa said these are just countryside folk remedies, not fit for polite society. If people find out, they’ll say I’m promoting feudal superstition and drag me off for public criticism… I’m scared.”
Huo Jingchuan looked at her “I’m so scared” expression, just about to speak, when that arrogant voice in his head had already spilled the truth completely:
Scared my ass! What era are we even in—who’s still doing public struggle sessions?
I’m mainly afraid of trouble! If those long‑tongued aunties in the compound find out I can treat people, today Aunt Zhang will want me to cure her athlete’s foot, tomorrow Uncle Li will want his hemorrhoids treated—and all of them will want it for free!
Working myself to death with no pay? I’m not doing that kind of losing deal!
And if you dare run your mouth… heh heh!
On the surface, Jiang Mian blinked innocently, looking fragile and pitiful. Inside, she was viciously cracking a little whip:
If you dare expose my trump card, I’ll wait until you’re asleep and stab your pain points every single day! I’ll make sure you can’t live or die properly! Got it?!
Huo Jingchuan: “……”
Stabbing pain points?
This woman’s nerve was getting bigger and bigger—she actually dared to threaten a commanding officer.
Still, hearing that she didn’t want to treat other people, didn’t want to become free labor, Huo Jingchuan felt a strange flicker of satisfaction.
That’s right.
Her medical skills were for him alone.
“And one more thing…” Seeing that he didn’t respond, Jiang Mian gathered her courage and added, “Since I cured your leg… could you maybe treat me a bit better in the future? Don’t always yell at me…”
Say yes! Hurry up and say yes!
From now on I’ll be your exclusive imperial physician—this is a technical position! I need a raise! A big raise! What can ten yuan even do? I want control of the household finances!
Huo Jingchuan looked at the eyes that practically had the words “PAY UP” written in them and the corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.
He reached under the pillow and fumbled around for a moment.
Jiang Mian’s heart shot straight up to her throat, her eyes locked onto his hand.
What is it? A big wad of cash? Or a stack of bills?
“Jingle—”
A copper key gleaming with cold light traced an arc through the air and landed squarely in Jiang Mian’s arms.
She scrambled to catch it, completely dumbfounded. “Th-this is…?”
“The cabinet key.”
Huo Jingchuan leaned back against the headboard, relaxed and lazy, yet his tone carried an unmistakable domineering decisiveness.
“All the money and ration tickets are in the cabinet. From now on, you’re in charge of treating my leg. Whether it’s buying medicine or groceries—if there’s not enough money, take it yourself.”
Jiang Mian clutched the heavy key, feeling like she was dreaming.
The cabinet key?
Didn’t that mean… she could take as much of those thick bills in the envelope as she wanted?
HOLY SHIT!!!
Boss is generous! Boss is healthy! Boss lives a long life!
This isn’t a key—this is a ticket to a happy life! Seventy–thirty split? No! Now it’s all under my control! Hahahaha!
Her little face flushed red with excitement. She gripped the key tightly and flashed Huo Jingchuan the most sincere, radiant smile she’d shown in days.
“Thank you, Brother Jingchuan! Don’t worry—I’ll treat your leg like it’s my own! I guarantee you’ll be jumping and running again!”
Watching her money‑grubbing expression, Huo Jingchuan shook his head, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.
Such an easy little liar to appease.
Just as the two of them had reached a rare moment of harmony, forming an “doctor–patient alliance”—
BANG BANG BANG!!
The courtyard gate was suddenly hammered with deafening force, followed by chaotic, urgent footsteps rushing into the main hall.
“Regimental Commander! Regimental Commander! Something’s wrong!”
Guard Li burst into the bedroom, drenched in sweat, his cap crooked, his face deathly pale, his voice shaking.
“Something terrible has happened! The old chief—th-the old chief suddenly fell ill! He can’t breathe, his face has turned purple!”
Huo Jingchuan’s expression changed instantly. He sat bolt upright. “What happened? Where are the military doctors?”
“They’re there! But—but it’s an old condition that triggered acute laryngeal edema. It’s too dangerous. The doctors said… said…” Li’s voice broke into sobs. “They said he might not make it! The political commissar told me to bring you over right away—to see him one last time!”
The old chief.
He was Huo Jingchuan’s mentor, the person he respected most in the army.
Huo Jingchuan’s hand clenched hard around the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white as pain flashed through his eyes.
How could this happen…
At that moment, Jiang Mian—who had been standing quietly to the side—suddenly spoke.
The smile vanished from her face, replaced by a calm and killing seriousness she had never shown before.
She stepped forward and grabbed Li’s arm, her grip shockingly strong.
“Laryngeal edema? How long has it been since onset?”
Li froze and answered instinctively, “Less than ten minutes…”
“There’s still time.”
Jiang Mian released him and turned to Huo Jingchuan.
Without wasting a single word, she pulled out her roll of silver needles from her chest (her spatial storage). Her eyes were sharp and resolute, like a sword drawn from its sheath.
“Brother Jingchuan, take me there.”
“I can save him.”