Chapter 6

Qing Wu moved aside and added some white powder into the bowl, then stirred it evenly with the flat end of a wooden hairpin.

“Master, Imperial Physician Li has arrived to take your pulse,” Ning Chun said cautiously from behind the door. Afraid of seeing something she shouldn’t, she dared not enter the inner chamber and instead knocked politely, inquiring about the situation inside.

Since the princess left the palace to move to her residence, the emperor, worried about her health, had assigned an imperial physician to come regularly to tend to her.

“Please come in quickly,” Qing Wu replied, focused on stirring the powder until no clumps remained. Then she added, “Bring Grandfather He to the Cypress Grove; I’ll be ready soon.”

She twirled the wooden hairpin, dipped it into the thick ointment, and held it like a brush poised above Pei Mu Ci’s thigh.

The tip of the hairpin had been finely sanded—sharp in appearance but harmless.

Qing Wu paused for a few seconds, as if contemplating, and once an idea took shape in her mind, she finally began to draw.

The hairpin could hold only a small amount of ointment, so after each stroke, she dipped it into the bowl again, as if inking the finest wolf-hair brush.

The stitches formed a series of uniform “丰” patterns; Qing Wu played across them like plucking zither strings. Where the wound was deep, she applied gentle pressure to glide over, while at the raw ends she pressed firmly, creating a pattern of deep and shallow lines that brought the vision in her mind to life on his scar.

It was like painting.

Pei Mu Ci furrowed his brows, supporting his elbow on the edge of the bench to maintain his posture, but the veins on his forearm twitched with each of Qing Wu’s movements. Sweat dripped down his broad back.

Qing Wu’s expression was focused. When he looked down at her, she was pursing her lips in thought, her black hair falling behind her neck, revealing a stunningly elegant jade nape.

A warmth rose in his heart; he did not resist her “punishment.” The blood surging to his head gradually calmed under her delicate brushwork.

Pei Mu Ci closed his eyes, envisioning her image in his mind.

Strangely, though he had known her only a few months, her image was clearer than anyone else he remembered.

“It’s done,” she called softly, her voice crisp and tender.

Qing Wu scraped off the remaining ointment and patched up the uneven spots.

It was a blooming peony.

Noble and exquisite—just like her.

Pei Mu Ci lifted his eyes, meeting her expectant, delicate face.

Their breaths were so close that in the depths of her eyes, he saw a complete reflection of himself.

No tainted past, no fearful omens.

Her pupils shone brightly—a love that looked straight through him, unabashed desire to possess, and a faint, inexplicable yearning.

Qing Wu tossed aside the hairpin casually, admiring her masterpiece.

Pei Mu Ci’s stitching was skillful, but the scar still curled outward slightly, oozing faint crimson.

Under the pure white lines of ointment was a unique layer of blood-red beneath.

Qing Wu clicked her tongue, imagining the muscles of his thigh tightening, gradually revealing the pale pink peony pattern.

What a pity.

She could not leave this floral mark on him forever.

She hooked Pei Mu Ci’s index finger and guided his hand to wipe away the excess ointment around the edges.

Her expression was earnest as she traced the peony’s lines over and over on his finger.

Then, in a soft, melodious voice, she whispered a warning.

“If I catch you again next time, I’ll carve this flower onto your body.”

Two light knocks came at the door; the imperial physician had arrived.

Qing Wu answered without noticing the thoughtful gaze Pei Mu Ci cast after her.

The door was left slightly ajar; the air in the room still carried the faint, sweet floral scent emanating from her, mixed with the fresh, clean aroma of soap.

Each breath was filled with an intoxicating fragrance, like the rolling waves of the sea, endlessly rippling into the heart.

Pei Mu Ci glanced around and spotted a small, delicate pair of scissors within reach—likely used by Qing Wu before to cut open clothing for suturing.

He took the scissors and slowly brought them close to his thigh, testing the feel.

Only faint white marks appeared on the skin, without the satisfying sting he desired.

Had he not applied enough force? Or did it require the princess’s own hand?

Surely, the blades were too dull.

Pei Mu Ci pried open the scissors and gripped one blade.

Now the blade felt just right.

—

Ning Chun stood at the door, accompanied by a silver-haired elder in his seventies. Qing Wu, unaware of any movement behind her, hurried forward to help the bent elder bow respectfully.

She sent Ning Chun to prepare tea—using Li He’s favorite Bamboo Leaf Green. After giving the order, she obediently extended her slender arm to rest on the pulse pillow.

—

The pulse was shallow but stubbornly vibrant.

Imperial Physician Li held his breath and concentrated, then released after a moment. He ground some herbs, wrote a prescription, and handed it to Zhi Xue.

Though the monthly prescriptions were largely the same, he insisted on explaining every step and precaution thoroughly before he could be at ease.

He had witnessed firsthand the hellish, miserable days the princess endured under the empress’s control in her childhood.

Yet, powerless and low in rank, he could do nothing.

Guilt gripped Imperial Physician Li like invisible hands choking his throat. He lowered his head to glance at the blossoming young princess; a bitter sting rose in his throat, and his face contorted with sorrow.

“Do I only have a month left to live?” Qing Wu asked in surprise, seeing his gloomy expression.

“Princess, be cautious with your words! This old servant is terrified!” Li He panicked, about to kneel, but slender hands lifted his arm.

He looked up and met Qing Wu’s playful smile, realizing she was joking.

“Grandfather He, why do you always look like I’m about to expire?” Qing Wu folded away the silk handkerchief from her delicate skin and rubbed her stiff wrist. “Every time I think I can enjoy a month of carefree life on the pleasure boat…”

“Only to be disappointed every time,” she said with feigned regret.

Li He could hardly tell whether she was serious. After all, this daring little princess was capable of all sorts of mischief, yet was the emperor’s precious treasure, carefully protected since his ascension. Every time she caused trouble, she was harshly reprimanded and then gently forgiven.

Once, at a renowned pleasure boat in the capital, she indulged in wine and flowers, drunken till dawn.

The entire medical bureau suspected her old ailment had relapsed, fearing for their lives.

Though not a crime, it was a blow to the royal reputation.

Li He’s lips twitched, revealing a bitter smile at the memories.

“Your Highness,” he earnestly advised, “your condition forbids emotional turmoil and overexertion. I beg you to cherish yourself, exercise restraint and moderation.”

Restraint? Moderation?

Qing Wu coughed twice, suddenly uncomfortable as if caught in a relative’s admonition, her cheeks flushing to the roots of her ears.

“Princess!” Li He called out in alarm, suspecting she was hiding something.

“No, no!” Qing Wu denied, baffled by her own blush, looking guiltily evasive.

She wanted to shout back at the old man, “I have done no mischief!”

But knowing Li He’s earnest nature, even a sneeze from her would be exaggerated in reports to the emperor, causing needless worry.

She didn’t want to argue with such a prudish scholar and quickly changed the subject.

“Has the imperial physician been to see Father lately? He hasn’t summoned me to the palace for days.”

Li He opened his mouth, hesitated, and after several stammers, finally spoke:

“Today I come not only for the princess’s regular check-up but also to boldly request a favor.”

“Please speak,” Qing Wu said, unfazed by formalities. Before establishing her household, she lived in the palace with few visitors beyond the emperor and his doctors.

Among the imperial physicians, Li He was the most diligent and concerned, so she felt close to him.

“The foreign war situation is urgent. His Majesty has been resting in the study for days, relying heavily on cooling herbal teas to stay alert. Frequent reports of battle dispatches have nearly caused him great distress,” Li He sighed, stroking his long beard, looking troubled at Qing Wu. “If the princess does not return to the palace to advise him, he may seriously harm his health.”

Qing Wu pursed her lips and leaned back slightly on the armrest, sinking into the chair.

Her father had never cared for cold wooden tablets of official documents—how could state affairs ruin his health?

“I will accompany Grandfather He back to the palace later,” she said.

“Thank you, Princess,” Li He murmured, savoring his fine Bamboo Leaf Green.

“There’s no need to thank me for visiting my own father,” Qing Wu’s eyes caught Li He’s, then she changed the subject, “If Grandfather He truly wishes to thank me, perhaps you could help me with something…”

“Cough, cough, cough!” Li He abruptly slammed his teacup on the table, coughing violently.

He knew! When the princess spoke, it was never for a simple favor!

Qing Wu sighed and patted his back to ease his breath, pushing the cup aside.

“Even drinking this lousy tea can choke you…”

The atmosphere broken, she dropped the pretense.

“There’s something I wonder if Grandfather He would help me with.”

She did not say outright that she wanted him to examine Pei Mu Ci, knowing imperial physicians were proud and reluctant to treat commoners. She deliberately left it vague to get his agreement first.

Li He cast a not-too-harsh glance that counted as tacit consent.

Qing Wu’s dimples deepened with delight. Afraid he would change his mind, she quickly turned and headed toward the inner chamber.

“Pei Mu Ci, come here,” she called, looking at Li He and motioning inside. Hearing no response, she peered in to find the figure who should have been by the couch.

Pei Mu Ci had moved near the wardrobe, changed into clean clothes, and sat there calmly, slowly gathering the loose strands of hair from his forehead. With a simple embroidered band, he tied his waist-length black hair, revealing his high, handsome features and gentle, refined face.

A faint smile played at the corner of his lips—somewhat distant yet suffused with quiet warmth at the upturned eyes.

Qing Wu clicked her tongue silently, admiring.

No wonder he was the one she had chosen—truly captivating.

She took Pei Mu Ci’s wrist. His skin was icy cold, as if recently pulled from cold water.

“What have you been doing? You look terrible.”

Pei Mu Ci twisted his hand away, staring at where their skin touched.

Her fingertips were colder still, the chilling sensation offsetting the tingling pain from his thigh, giving him the strange energy to think of other things.

The scissors were simply too dull; the blades only nicked the surface, leaving shallow grooves. He wiped away the fresh blood with his discarded outer garment.

Such wounds would scab and heal within a few months, restoring his skin to its former state.

He felt disappointed, a restless frustration growing within.

Suddenly, the delicate figure in front stopped, and Pei Mu Ci halted, raising his eyes toward the elderly man seated ahead.

Qing Wu stood beneath the curtain, arms slightly open, attempting to shield Pei Mu Ci behind her like a protective mother hen.

She hesitated and shifted aside, revealing the youth a head taller than her—far too big to be hidden.

Li He sighed heavily.

“Your Highness,” he said earnestly, “I have already warned you: your body cannot afford any more reckless indulgence.”

Li He felt his previous words had been too gentle, which was why the princess had ignored them and brazenly brought her attendant before him.

Now, he would be frank, for the good of both the princess and himself.

“Understood!” Qing Wu said, seating Pei Mu Ci opposite Li He. Her cheeks flushed instantly, deep red like dripping blood.

She turned away, muttering a curse under her breath.

“Old man with no respect!”

Pei Mu Ci was surprised that Qing Wu had arranged for him to be examined. He silently studied her expression.

Was she acting out of kindness, wanting the imperial physician to examine him? Or had she truly sensed something?

He clasped his hands, his right hand gripping the webbing between thumb and forefinger tightly, the knuckles whitening.

“What are you staring at?” Qing Wu grabbed his wrist and laid his hand on the pulse pillow, then glanced at the physician. “Have a look.”

Li He did not doubt for a moment that the princess would soon grasp his hand, even pry two fingers onto his wrist.

He reached out but found Pei Mu Ci’s fingers curled into a fist beside the pillow.

Speaking boldly disregarding rank, he had watched the princess grow, even nourishing her with monthly decoctions for her to reach this age.

He was no mercenary doctor, greedy or unscrupulous.

But to treat a mere attendant of the princess? That would damage his reputation.

“Grandfather He?” Qing Wu feigned ignorance of his hesitation and waved her hand before his eyes.

Seeing her seriousness and knowing the princess’s affairs would not spread outside, Li He had no choice but to pull Pei Mu Ci’s wrist toward him and press it firmly.

Young and strong, there could be no major illness.

It was for the princess’s peace of mind; he would do it.

Li He comforted himself, though his brow grew ever tighter.

“Ah?” he finally murmured in suspicion, gently shifting his fingers, lingering long on Pei Mu Ci’s wrist with a tense expression as if wrapped in fragile paper.

After a long moment, the steam from the teacup slowly dissipated. Li He released his hold, looking gravely at Qing Wu.

“In my decades of practice, I have never seen such a complicated poison.”

His words were a clear explanation to Qing Wu.

Before joining the medical bureau, Li He had been a renowned heir of a famous folk medical family.

If even he found it difficult, the problem was indeed serious.

“I always wondered why you seemed so ill all the time,” Qing Wu teased Pei Mu Ci, poking him lightly. “When did you get this?”

A faint smile appeared on Pei Mu Ci’s face as he looked steadily at her.

“What are you smiling at now?” she rolled her eyes and glared back.

How could he be smiling all the time, as if he cared for nothing? It was unsettling.