Chapter 141: That, That's Way Too Embarrassing

Chapter 141 That, That’s Too Embarrassing

"Raven’s beak, huh."

Chen Yì thought for a moment, then planted his foot firmly, letting Cui Er go ahead.

"I'll go fetch something. You two start heating some water for Xiao Juan."

"Yes, Uncle Chen."

After giving his instructions, Chen Yì turned back to the wooden building and retrieved a moxibustion box, tucking it into his sleeve.

Xiao Wúgē saw him emerge and could not help but ask, "Brother, should we notify that famed doctor, Ma Shenyi?"

Chen Yì replied, "Not for now." He then headed toward Jia Xing Courtyard.

For an ordinary person, a slight chill or sniffle would pose no real trouble.

But Xiao Wán'er had a delicate constitution.

With her already frail, perpetually chilled body, even a minor cold could become a serious illness.

Fortunately, he had previously, through Ma Liang, prescribed her a tonifying-yang formula. Without it, her condition would only worsen.

Not long after.

Chen Yì arrived at Jia Xing Courtyard and found Cui Er and Xiao Juan in a flurry.

One was boiling water, the other wiping Xiao Wán'er’s forehead with a towel.

Meanwhile, Xiao Wán'er lay faintly asleep on the bed, her forehead dripping with sweat, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural pinkness.

Moreover, her eyelids fluttered intermittently, her lips parted and met again—she was clearly losing her wits.

When Cui Er saw him appear at the door, she rushed over, nearly weeping.

"Uncle Chen, should I send someone to inform the old master?"

"She was still awake just now, saying she wanted to rest. By the time I came to fetch you, she… she…"

Chen Yì waved a hand, dismissing her with a hasty excuse.

"The prescription Ma Shenyi gave her earlier worked well, so she should be fine. Let me take a look."

He walked straight into the room, his eyes glinting with a hint of light.

Applying the pulse-taking method.

He observed Xiao Wán'er’s pulse—her body had long since lost the residual yang energy from the medicine. Her entire aura was dark as ink.

Seeing this, Chen Yì didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, disregarding propriety, and placed his hand on her wrist.

"Th—this—"

At the sight, Cui Er and Xiao Juan, who had been frantic moments before, stood frozen.

After exchanging a glance, the two fell into a wordless understanding.

A doctor’s parental love, a doctor’s parental love, Uncle Chen…

They decided to wait until the young mistress awoke.

A moment later, Chen Yì’s frown eased.

"No serious harm. Just a common cold."

Upon hearing this, Cui Er and Xiao Juan both sighed in relief.

"That’s good."

"That we can rest easy."

Rest easy?

Rest easy?

What Chen Yì had said was merely a way to stabilize her condition.

In truth, Xiao Wán'er’s body had already begun showing signs of "qi collapse."

Had his medical skills not been sufficient, and had he not happened to be in the manor, she would have needed to fly the phoenix to the western lands within an hour.

Thinking of such things, Chen Yì instructed quietly: "Cui Er, fetch some paper and ink. Write down a prescription, then go to the apothecary to gather the herbs."

"Understood."

After Cui Er finished writing and confirming the formula, she hurried away from Jia Xing Courtyard.

Chen Yì then instructed Xiao Juan to open the windows for ventilation and move the brazier outside to boil water.

Once the two were gone, Chen Yì looked at Xiao Wán'er lying on the bed, hesitated for a moment, then whispered a few words.

Mostly things like "urgent matters take precedence" or "avoiding offense"—all hollow excuses.

After all, she gave no response.

Seeing this, Chen Yì lifted the pink quilt, revealing Xiao Wán'er’s thin, delicate body beneath.

She was already soaked through with sweat, her simple silk nightgown clinging damply to her slender frame.

"Ah."

He rubbed his nose, muttering, "How fragrant."

At that moment, Xiao Wán'er felt the chill and, seemingly aware, blinked slowly toward him.

Their eyes met.

Chen Yì, speechless, waved his hand in front of her face.

"Young mistress, can you see me?"

Xiao Wán'er’s bright eyes seemed to be veiled by a hazy mist, and as his hand moved slightly, she responded with a faint nod.

After a while, her plump lips sighed softly:

"Sister, brother-in-law?"

"Yes."

"Me, this, what happened to me?"

"You caught a chill."

"Oh, I’ve been cold…"

"It’ll pass soon. Just sleep a bit more."

Xiao Wán'er nodded quietly, closing her eyes as instructed, though her lips continued to murmur something incoherently.

Her voice was faint, barely audible.

"Sister, brother-in-law, can you tell me… that poem, that poem—was it written about me?"

"Me, I hope it wasn’t… but I also hope…"

"Hope…"

What she hoped, she couldn’t finish, and soon drifted back to sleep.

Chen Yì stared at her pale, lovelorn face, fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly.

"That poem, after all, was written for you."

Saying so, Chen Yi steadied his thoughts and reached into his sleeve to pull out a silver needle, beginning to administer acupuncture to her. Thirteen needles in all, each one sealing a point where her breath had grown weak.

Then, with the aid of his spiritual energy, he carefully traced the pathways and cavities within Xiao Wan'er’s body, proceeding with utmost caution. Until, in the art of pulse reading, the coldness in her body began to dissipate, and her yang energy stirred, her breath gradually steadied, at which point he withdrew his hands.

Chen Yi gathered his needles, wiping the sweat from his brow. Just as he was about to drape a blanket over Xiao Wan'er, a faint, trembling voice came from behind:

“Aunt, Aunt Yi—y-you—you—you—you…”

Chen Yi turned his head, his expression calm as he replied, rising to his feet: “I’ve just checked her pulse again.”

“Only then did I realize her condition hadn’t improved.”

He paused slightly, his tone growing serious: “Look at her clothes—they’re soaked through. How could that help?”

Upon hearing this, the younger sister looked doubtful, glancing between him and Xiao Wan'er, whose breath had steadied and complexion had brightened. She quickly bowed in respect:

“Uncle Yi, forgive me—I didn’t mean to cause trouble, sister. I…”

Chen Yi hummed, stepping past her: “Don’t fret. Hurry and change her into dry clothes.”

“Yes, yes—sister, I’ll fetch fresh garments right away.”

When the sound of the door closing reached them, Chen Yi, his face set, let out a long sigh.

“Phew…phew…phew…thank goodness I thought quickly.”

“Otherwise, if something went wrong, I’d probably end up bearing the stain of being an evil stepmother.”

“If that happened, I’d have to carry that burden.”

“At least I didn’t do anything.”

Thinking this, he glanced back once more, then settled into a pavilion nearby, waiting for Cuier to return with herbal remedies.

At least she was safe. As for what would happen afterward…

Who could say what the future held?

…

After noon, the scorching sun blazed overhead, and the sounds of cicadas filled the gardens of Xiaoying Yard. The shaded grove offered little relief. Day and night alike, if the windows were left open, the noise could sometimes wake even the most soundly sleeping person.

Xiao Wan'er was awakened by the cicada’s cry.

She blinked awake, her mind telling her she was still in the room. Rolling onto her side, she propped herself up with her left hand, then shifted to her right, testing the surroundings from the bed.

Her body, parched from illness, made her instinctively lick her lips. “What happened to me?”

Xiao Wan'er hadn’t been ill in a long time. Or rather, aside from the extreme chill afflicting her body, she’d hardly ever fallen ill.

After some reflection, she recalled the cold she’d caught.

“Am I better now?”

She touched her face, feeling a warmth, then glanced down at her body, confirming there was nothing amiss, and sighed in relief.

She remembered an old woman from the mountain temple in her childhood who’d once told her: never fall ill. With her constitution, even minor ailations could take her life.

“Thank goodness…”

She patted her chest, reassuring herself.

She’d known her body’s flaws for a long time, growing accustomed to them. So she’d always viewed life and death with indifference, simply hoping to live each day well—without troubling others, and doing what she could.

Luckily, up until now, she’d managed just fine.

Thinking this, Xiao Wan'er smiled faintly. “Thank goodness.”

Then she rose from bed, dressing herself in her usual robes, a fur coat, and a short jacket.

She didn’t call for Cuier or the younger sister, dressing alone. After considering it, she opened a cabinet, inspected several freshly washed and neatly folded robes, and chose one to wear.

Once dressed, she faced the bronze mirror, adjusting her hair. “Still the same—this looks good.”

Beneath the fur trim at the collar, her pale face bore a faint blush, still delicate. Yet her breath was soft, her features beautiful—as if a closed moon, as if water poured from autumn clouds.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Xiao Wan'er didn’t admire her own beauty. Instead, she recalled Chen Yi’s words from the day before: “Be careful of wind and cold.”

She curved a slight smile. “A raven’s beak.”

Though perhaps a bit irritable, perhaps pleased, her mood remained good.

Just as she was about to rise and leave the room, a cry echoed from the hallway outside:

“Really?”

“Uncle Yi actually uncovered the blanket over the mistress?”

Uncle? Blanket?

Xiao Wan'er blinked, stepping closer. The younger sister explained:

“Don’t misunderstand me.”

“I too thought Uncle Yi was doing something bad to the mistress.”

“But when I changed her clothes, I saw what Uncle Yi had done—he was right.”

“You and I piled on so many blankets, soaking her entire body in sweat, worsening her condition.”

“If it hadn’t been for Uncle Yi lifting the blanket, her illness wouldn’t have improved.”

“Is that so? Then I misunderstood Uncle Yi.”

“But spreading such news isn’t good. Let’s just keep it between us.”

“Rest assured, my tongue’s the sharpest—I won’t say a word.”

Xiao Wan'er heard this and felt her chest tighten, her hands instinctively clasping her heart, as if to keep her throbbing heart from leaping out.

Her face flushed—not just from embarrassment, but also from some other feeling—perhaps irritation, or something else entirely.

Amidst the muddle of all these flavors and sensations, the only sound echoing in her mind was: "Her husband-to-be—he lifted my quilt, lifted my quilt…"

So, would I, clad in that indecent garment, be… be… seen through by him?

Xiao Wan’er had been in charge of the apothecary for so long, surely she understood a thing or two about medicine.

She had never heard that one needed to uncover the quilt to let the body cool when afflicted with wind-cold; the proper method was to clamp the quilt tightly, drawing out sweat, so recovery might come swifter.

"Her husband-to-be, he—he shouldn’t act like this."

In the moment of shame and irritation, fragments of memory drifted into her mind.

Like in a hazy dream, she saw herself lying on the bed, Chen Yi seated beside her.

They were saying something, haltingly, intermittently.

What were they saying?

It seemed as though they were reciting a poem.

In the mist, she thought she heard her husband-to-be’s gentle voice murmur: "That was indeed written for you."

"…"

At once, her mind went blank, the flush and vexation on her face dissolved.

Or rather, the vexation faded, leaving only a scarlet hue creeping across her cheeks.

Was that a dream?

It should have been a dream, shouldn’t it?

Otherwise, otherwise that would be too shameful.

Just then, Cuier and Juaner pushed the door open, glanced at her, and gasped, assuming she was still unwell.

"Madam, are you—are you all right?"

"Should we summon the imperial physician?"

Upon hearing their voices, Xiao Wan’er summoned her wits, bit her lip, and shook her head weakly: "I—I’m fine."

"No need to seek the physician. Just fetch me a cup of water."

Cuier hurried to the living room to draw some water.

Juaner helped her back to the bed, "Madam, you’ve frightened us half to death. You must rest properly, you can’t catch wind-cold again."

Xiao Wan’er steadied herself, and spoke in a faint voice: "Indeed, I must rest, I can’t afford to catch wind-cold."

Juaner sighed in relief: "Thank goodness our husband understands some medicine, or else we’d have no idea what to do."

He understands medicine?

Xiao Wan’er thought a moment, then asked: "Tell me what happened after I fell into a swoon."

Juaner and Cuier exchanged a glance, then recounted the events as they had agreed—keeping silent about Chen Yi lifting the quilt.

After drinking the water, Xiao Wan’er said, "Is that all?"

Juaner and Cuier looked at each other, their heads nodding shyly.

"Yes, after that, your illness passed, and now you’ve awakened."

Xiao Wan’er regarded them with a complex expression, saying nothing further.

"Her husband-to-be—where is he now?"

"Returned home. They said someone from the Cloud Academy arrived to discuss tomorrow’s teaching matters with our husband."

"Oh, then, then fetch some food—I’m hungry."

Once everyone had left, Xiao Wan’er sat motionless for a moment, her face shifting from pale to rosy to flushed with a sudden tide of blood, her complexion rising and falling with her emotions.

After a long while, she rose and went to the window, her face glowing white beneath the bright sunlight.

She gazed toward the lotus pond, her heart settling on a single thought:

Her husband-to-be—he had better truly understand medicine.

Otherwise, otherwise…

(End of Chapter)