Chapter 3
LIN QINGYU STOOD UP and left. What did he have to worry about, since the patient had already lost the will to live? The earlier Lu Wancheng died, the faster Lin Qingyu could return to the Lin residence.
He entered the study. When he first arrived at the marquess of Nan’an’s residence, he’d brought only two chests with him. One contained clothes, and the other held medical books. The rules of the residence had stated that Lin Qingyu could bring two maids with him, but he wasn’t used to having female personal servants; in the Lin residence, his servant was a boy with whom he had grown up and studied.
It was not a glorious fate to marry a man and become a male wife. He didn’t want his personal servant to enter the marquess’s residence as part of a “dowry,” so Lin Qingyu had come alone. Those medical books were the only things that accompanied him.
Among them were many ancient books he hadn’t read yet; he wondered whether they contained any cases similar to Lu Wancheng’s. As he buried his head in those books, he finally calmed a little.
In school, Lin Qingyu’s classmates had found medical books boring and complicated; they’d gotten sleepy after reading just a few pages. But to Lin Qingyu, the fictional books his classmates obsessed over were far less interesting than medical books. Like his father, he had an eidetic memory, so he could recite anything by heart after reading it just once—unlike his classmates, who would need an entire day to memorize the same text.
His father had thought about having him take the imperial civil examinations, but Lin Qingyu just wanted to become a medical official. He loved to see patients gradually improve under his care, and he wanted to enter the Department of Imperial Physicians, where famed doctors from all over the empire gathered. He wanted to study medicine alongside them, find treatments for complicated diseases, and help the people of the Great Yu Empire.
He could have done it. He’d been so close.
“Young Lord?”
The voice didn’t sound like a maid’s. Lin Qingyu looked up—it was Auntie Nitpicky, whose surname was apparently Liu.
“What?” Lin Qingyu coldly replied.
Auntie Liu smiled. “Young Lord, it’s time to eat.”
Lin Qingyu didn’t have an appetite at all, but it wasn’t worth harming his body to spite the bastards in the marquess’s household. “Bring my food here. I’ll eat in the study.”
Auntie Liu waved her hands, objecting. “That won’t do, Young Lord.”
“Why not?” Lin Qingyu frowned. “Does the residence have a rule against my eating in the study?”
“No, but since this marriage saved the young master, and you’re his lucky charm, the lady ordered that you two stay together as much as possible so the young master can heal faster.”
Refuting such superstition would only make him look stupid. But if a warding-off marriage really cured disease, then why did the Great Yu Empire need physicians? Why did the court spend so much money on medical officials? If you’re sick, just get married, and everything will be fine!
Lin Qingyu examined Auntie Liu. “How old are you?”
Auntie Liu didn’t know why he was asking, but she smiled and replied, “I’m fifty-two this year.”
“Yet you only look about forty-two. On the other hand, I may not even live to see fifty-two. I imagine that if you take care of the young master, Auntie, he’ll get better even faster—how fortunate.”
Auntie Liu’s smile froze. “You must be joking, Young Lord.”
Lin Qingyu’s expression turned cold. “Do I look like I’m joking? Leave.”
Auntie Liu looked extremely unhappy. She was Lady Liang’s confidant, and everyone in the manor treated her with the utmost respect, other than its masters. In truth, even they paid homage to her. Who was Lin Qingyu? To put it nicely, he was the young lord of the residence. To put it bluntly, however, he was simply a male wife whom the marquess’s household had “bought” to prolong the young master’s life. He’d only been here a single day, yet he had the gall to disrespect her?
When he noticed that she wasn’t leaving, Lin Qingyu scoffed. “Is there no distinction between ranks in this residence? A mere servant daring to ignore the young lord’s orders—is that another household custom?”
Auntie Liu lowered her gaze. “This servant dares not do so. But the lady personally ordered that ginseng chicken soup be made, and that I serve it. If the young lord didn’t sample it with the young master, that would betray the lady’s kindness.”
Ginseng chicken soup? Moron. Didn’t she know that the weak shouldn’t be nourished with such dishes?4 Does Lady Liang think that her son’s illness isn’t severe enough?
“She ordered it made. It’s not like she made it herself.” Lin Qingyu looked away from Auntie Liu and flipped a page in his book. “Just take it to the young master.”
Auntie Liu gritted her teeth, glanced ominously at Lin Qingyu, and left with the chicken soup.
Peace returned to the study, but Lin Qingyu was a bit distracted now. Lu Wancheng’s stomach and intestines were already damaged; ingesting a nourishing medicinal ingredient like ginseng would only worsen his already-weak state. Lu Wancheng had been ill since he was a child—such a chronic illness would turn even a patient into a physician of sorts. Did Lady Liang not know even that, as his mother? Once or twice was fine, but if Lu Wancheng continually ingested such nourishing treatments, his body would become weaker and weaker.
Forget it. Lin Qingyu would just consider this a good deed done to accumulate positive karma. Lu Wancheng’s situation was rare, and Lin Qingyu wanted to observe it for a while longer.
Lin Qingyu left the study and went to the dining hall, but he didn’t see Lu Wancheng. “Where’s the young master?” he asked a passing maid.
“The young master said he didn’t want to get up. He wanted to eat in bed,” she replied.
Bedridden patients should indeed lie down when possible.
Lin Qingyu headed to the bedroom. Even before he entered, he began telling Lu Wancheng, “That ginseng chicken soup your mother made—don’t…”
Lu Wancheng was sitting on the bed, eating porridge and some side dishes. “Hmm?”
A square table stood in front of Lu Wancheng’s bed. Most of the dishes on that table had mild flavors, save for the large pot of chicken soup with ginseng slices floating in it. The clean ladle beside that pot made it clear that Lu Wancheng hadn’t eaten a single spoonful of the soup.
Lu Wancheng slowly finished chewing and swallowed, then said, “Physician Lin. What a rare guest. Have you eaten?”
“Your mother ordered the kitchen to make that ginseng chicken soup. Why haven’t you had any?” Lin Qingyu asked.
Lu Wancheng wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and casually replied, “I won’t eat anything she sends over.”
That statement piqued Lin Qingyu’s curiosity. “Why not?”
“They said that I have half a year left. Not a single hour—or minute—less. If they want to get rid of me earlier, I’ll be sure to give them grief.”
Lin Qingyu found this strange. “Why would they want to get rid of you earlier?”
Lu Wancheng blinked at him. “Take a guess.”
Lin Qingyu didn’t indulge him. “Was that an attempt to be witty…?”
Lu Wancheng suddenly laughed out loud, but he chuckled too hard and choked, coughing until his handsome face reddened slightly.
Lin Qingyu didn’t know why Lu Wancheng was laughing, but he could tell that the relationship between the marchioness and her son wasn’t as loving as it seemed.
Watching a maid pat Lu Wancheng’s back to help with his coughing, Lin Qingyu retracted the hand that he’d extended. “What is there to laugh at?”
Lu Wancheng stopped coughing, mirth in his breath. “I’m only a tiny bit witty, but I’m very lively.”
“That body of yours can’t express any degree of liveliness—even if you want it to,” Lin Qingyu scoffed.
“You’re right. This body makes me want to puke. If it were my own…” Lu Wancheng sighed.
“What do you mean?”
Lu Wancheng smiled and avoided the question, asking, “Since you’re here, will you sit down and eat, Physician Lin? I can’t partake in this chicken soup, but you can.”
“Where am I supposed to sit?”