Though the rain fell in endless cold sheets, the lamps within Anyin Hall cast their warm glow over Huo Wujiu as Physician Zhou began his examination.
He took Huo Wujiu’s pulse and carefully inspected his injuries before eventually standing up to give his diagnosis.
“How is he?” Jiang Suizhou asked.
“Your Highness, Madam Huo’s condition is a result of his damaged meridians,” Physician Zhou said with a bow. “On cold and rainy days, the pain can be excruciating.”
Jiang Suizhou frowned. “Is there any way to treat it?”
The physician shook his head.
“The only cure would be the full restoration of the meridians in Madam Huo’s legs…but those meridians are completely and irreparably severed. Recovery is impossible.”
Jiang Suizhou’s frown deepened.
He knew that this diagnosis was not entirely correct. Huo Wujiu’s legs could be healed, but the doctors in his residence lacked the skills to do it. At first, Jiang Suizhou had figured it would be fine to put that issue on the back burner, as long as that one physician who could cure him showed up within three years.
However, he hadn’t realized how unbearable those three years would be for Huo Wujiu. A bit of rain was enough to cause him this much pain? Considering the climate of Lin’an, wouldn’t the next three years be absolute torture?
He fell silent for a moment. The physician carefully watched his expression.
“However, keeping Madam Huo’s legs warm with quilts and hot water bottles can provide some relief,” he offered cautiously.
Hearing this, Jiang Suizhou immediately ordered Meng Qianshan to prepare these items at once.
Meng Qianshan quickly complied, and he in turn directed the maids to get to work.
Physician Zhou took his leave. The maids soon returned with thick quilts and covered Huo Wujiu’s legs.
“Does that feel better?” Jiang Suizhou asked.
On the daybed, Huo Wujiu looked at Jiang Suizhou.
The Prince of Jing was still clad in his sleeping robes, with only a jacket draped over top, as he sat in a chair by his bed.
It was late at night, and he appeared a little listless. Fatigue was etched on his face, and he looked pale. Worried he might catch a chill, Meng Qianshan had thoughtfully prepared a hot water bottle to warm his hands. Now, he sat there absentmindedly squeezing the soft, warm object, a frown on his face as he gazed at Huo Wujiu.
As for the quilt… Truthfully, Huo Wujiu didn’t feel much of a difference. The clearest sensation was only that it was heavy.
Since his legs had been maimed, his blood circulation within them had become poor, and they were often cold. Even with the quilt, it was hard to warm them up. Moreover, the moisture in the humid air easily penetrated the flimsy satin and cotton barrier of the quilt.
However, for some reason, he didn’t want to see the Prince of Jing disappointed.
“It’s somewhat better now,” he lied.
Sure enough, those fox-like eyes lit up instantly.
Next, the Prince of Jing seemed to realize what he was holding in his hand. He looked down at the hot water bottle. It was white and made of rabbit fur—soft and fluffy, almost like holding a real little rabbit.
He watched as Jiang Suizhou carefully lifted the blanket and tucked the rabbitlike water bottle next to his leg.
Then, he paused, as if thinking of something else.
The next thing Huo Wujiu knew, the Prince of Jing’s hand landed clumsily on his leg beneath the blanket. His warm hand, heated by the hot water bottle he’d been toying with, gently rubbed up and down over the thin fabric of Huo Wujiu’s sleepwear, then slowly kneaded the muscle a few times.
“Does this…feel better?” he heard the Prince of Jing ask, but Huo Wujiu couldn’t answer him right away.
Despite the extensive injuries inflicted upon his legs, they weren’t completely numb.
He certainly felt something, but could it be classified as “better” by whatever metric the prince was using? It was hard to tell because of the way it sent a surge of electricity up his leg to briefly wipe every thought from his mind.