Bao Shichang frowned. “Are you telling the truth?”
“It’s true!” Zhou Pingping’s tears had smudged her entire makeup. “Lord Bao, you said it yourself—murder is a capital crime. No one can escape it. I may be a noble daughter, but I was raised with a nanny’s constant instruction and careful guidance. Even if I’m ignorant of many things, how could I not know that killing someone is crossing the line? That it’s punishable by death? I would never do such a thing!”
Bao Shichang and Song Huaiyu exchanged a gnce. They both saw hesitation in each other’s eyes.
Still, whether Ma Lishui was killed by Zhou Pingping or not, Kaifeng Prefecture’s dungeon was where she’d be spending the night.
Bao Shichang ordered again, “Take her away.”
“Yes, Lord Bao.”
This time, the officers no longer held back. Zhou Pingping could only sob as she was escorted into Kaifeng Prefecture.
Her cell was not the same as Ji Ping’an’s. Song Huaiyu personally escorted Zhou Pingping to the southeastern women’s prison.
The dungeon was pitch bck despite it still being broad daylight outside. The sound of water dripping somewhere echoed constantly. Zhou Pingping nearly broke down just standing there.
Right then, a rat squeaked and ran across her foot.
“AHH—A RAT! Catch it! Catch it now!” she screamed, hiding behind the officer in terror, trembling uncontrolbly while still trying to maintain her lofty airs and ordering the guards around.
Being the daughter of Chengping Marquis, the guards dared not offend her and made a show of driving the rat away before advising her to rest, then closed and locked the cell door.
With a loud cck, the bolt dropped into pce. Zhou Pingping didn’t dare move.
She had been pampered all her life. Her father and two older brothers adored her. She had never endured this kind of suffering.
Drip drip… the water continued falling.
Cold wind cut to the bone in the dim cell.
From the narrow corridor came strange noises. In the cell next to hers, a woman sobbed quietly but relentlessly.
Zhou Pingping covered her ears and crouched on the ground in fear.
Father… save me. Hurry and save me…
____
Meanwhile, at the Princess’s residence—
The Princess’s personal attendant, Cuiyun, covered her mouth in disbelief. “My heavens, Your Highness, look! The scars on your chest and arms have faded more than half!”
Ever since falling ill with this strange disease, her whole body reeked of rot and was covered in festering wounds and scars. The Princess had smashed all the mirrors in the residence and had never dared look at herself again.
Now, she raised her arm—emaciated, all bone and skin—and saw that not only had the scars diminished in number, but even their color had lightened.
Cuiyun dropped to her knees, overcome with emotion. “Your Highness, Doctor Yan said he had modified the prescription, and he’s been personally overseeing the decoction these past few days. This servant… I only had the mind to give it a try, so I didn’t dare report to Your Highness beforehand. But to think…”
Tears flowed freely down her face. “To think… now… Your Highness… your suffering has finally come to an end.”
The Princess’s tears fell as well.
Five years—five full years. She had thought herself beyond saving, already at the end of the road. Yet here it was—a glimmer of hope after all.
She stepped out of the bath and had Cuiyun help her change into fresh clothes. She summoned Yan Xishan to commend him personally.
Yan Xishan had been waiting for this moment. After taking her pulse and asking detailed questions, just as the Princess was about to bestow a reward, he suddenly knelt. “Your Highness, this old man dares not take all the credit. The prescription was not mine alone—it came from the guidance of a superior healer.”
“Who? Which expert?” Cuiyun asked, eyes shining.
Yan Xishan gave the name: “It was the person I recommended to Your Highness before your birthday banquet—the one who was framed during the banquet and is currently imprisoned in Kaifeng Prefecture: Ji Ping’an.”
A revetion like thunder cracking overhead.
The Princess and her attendants were momentarily stunned into silence.
After a long pause, the Princess asked for a detailed account of how Ji Ping’an had diagnosed her illness and described its symptoms.
That a mere merchant’s orphan could possess medical skill surpassing even the famed Yan Xishan was astonishing—utterly inconceivable.
Yet hearing Ji Ping’an’s uniquely insightful analysis of the disease, the Princess calmed her emotions and personally went to Kaifeng Prefecture.
Ji Ping’an was brought to the back courtyard.
The Princess sat high in her ornate seat, noble and imposing.
Ji Ping’an knelt before her, small and disheveled.
The princess held a delicate teacup, its fragrance mixing with the lingering odor from her body, creating an odd and nauseating scent in the room. She asked coldly, “Did you deliberately ask Yan Xishan to recommend you to me? What was your true goal?”
Ji Ping’an, still kneeling, kept her back straight as she answered.
“I dare not deceive Your Highness. I did indeed approach Doctor Yan of my own accord to ask about Your Highness’s condition—it was true that I wished to gain favor.”
The Princess snorted. “At least you’re honest.”
Ji Ping’an gave a bitter smile. “Your Highness, my mother passed away early. My father also died just this past winter. The elders of my cn are circling like vultures. I came to the capital alone to seek shelter at Minister Song’s estate. With nowhere to go and nothing to fall back on, I naturally hoped to find a powerful patron to rely on. I ask for little—only a life of peace. But, Your Highness, if all I wanted was to curry favor, I could’ve simply offered up rare treasures. Quick, easy, and effective. Why would I go through such a convoluted path?”
She continued, voice calm but heartfelt, “Yes, I wished to find protection, but I also truly wanted to treat the illness. Your Highness, I once met a little boy, only seven years old, who had been sick since birth. A congenital illness. He took medicine every day. Two-thirds of the year, he was in pain. Every time I saw him, he was either burning with fever, bleeding from the nose, covered in bruises… Later, his hair began falling out in handfuls, and eventually, he started to go blind.”
“His parents didn’t love him. All his treatments were funded through donations. The only thing he looked forward to each time he endured treatment was one piece of candy.”
“If he could, he would have chosen to live, more than anyone. He was so small. He cried every time he was treated, but in the end… he didn’t make it.”
Leukemia couldn’t be cured.
That day, she cried.
It was the first time she had ever seen a patient die.
It was her first year interning at the hospital.
Later, the doctor she followed said she wasn’t suited to be a doctor. In a hospital, one sees too much birth, aging, illness, and death. Her heart was too soft, too empathetic, too easily overwhelmed.
Not long after, she withdrew midway through her internship, took a two-year leave from school, and studied traditional Chinese medicine on her own before returning to clinical work.
By the end of her story, Ji Ping’an’s voice choked with emotion. “Being sick is incredibly painful. I’ve seen too many people suffer, so I understand just how much agony it brings. That’s why—no matter who it is, no matter when—I always want to try. To use my medical skills to fight illness. To see if there’s even a sliver of hope I can steal back from death.”
The Princess suddenly remembered what Doctor Yan had told her earlier on the road.
Ji Ping’an had been sick since childhood. Her body had long been deteriorating, but because of her long illness, she’d essentially become a healer herself. That her life expectancy was limited.
If she remembered correctly, Ji Ping’an was only sixteen years old.
So when Ji Ping’an said she understood the pain of illness, not only because she had seen many others suffer, but because she was one of them.
Just like the Princess, Ji Ping’an was a patient too.
The princess reached out, and Cuiyun helped her to her feet.
“When I came in just now,” the Princess said, “I saw Lord Song. He told me the person who framed you has been caught. Since the case is resolved and you’ve been proven innocent, there’s no need for you to stay another moment in Kaifeng Prefecture’s dungeon. Go home. Rest up. I’m still waiting on you to cure me.”
“Yes.”
It was as if the heavy ste pressing down on Ji Ping’an’s chest had finally been lifted. Joy surged in her heart.
“This humble girl understands. I will do everything I can to heal Your Highness’s illness.”
The Princess gave a slight nod and turned to leave.
As she passed the door, Song Huaiyu was standing right outside—who knows how long he’d been there.
“Oh, right,” the Princess said, her gaze fixed ahead. “Lord Song, that authentic piece by the Prince Consort that you had delivered—‘National Beauty, Heavenly Fragrance’—I’ve examined it, and it’s genuine. It’s a true masterpiece. I imagine acquiring it took considerable effort and likely involved quite a few favors. However, since there’s no longer a need for any pleas, please find a suitable time to take it back. I won’t accept rewards that I haven’t earned.”
“Yes.” Song Huaiyu bowed respectfully.
Since the Princess had spoken, Ji Ping’an wouldn’t have to return to the prison again.
Song Huaiyu stepped into the room. Ji Ping’an stood up from the floor, but her days in the dungeon had taken their toll—her illness hadn’t yet healed, her body was still weak, and after kneeling for so long with her nerves taut, rising suddenly made her feel faint and dizzy.
“How are you?”
Song Huaiyu caught her by the arm as she staggered, steadying her. The moment she stood firm, he let go.