Ji Ping’an allowed the man to lead the way. He made no effort to hide his authority, and soon, the carriage arrived at the residence of Chengping Marquis. As she stepped out of the carriage, Ji Ping’an lowered her voice and whispered to Mu Sheng, “Return to the Princess’s Residence. Ask for help.”

  Mu Sheng nodded and returned to the carriage, pretending as if nothing had happened.

  Chengping Marquis held a third-rank title. While that might not outrank a Minister in terms of formal grade, his wealth and prestige were beyond such comparisons.

  Chengping Marquis’s estate was elegant and refined—every flower and bde of grass resembled strokes of meticulous ink-wash painting.

  Once Ji Ping’an was brought into the residence, the escort left. Before departing, he bowed respectfully to Ji Ping’an and said, “Miss Ji, I was only carrying out my orders. My apologies.”

  After he left, the people of Chengping Marquis’s household took over.

  After a series of left and right turns through the winding corridors, Ji Ping’an and Dongchun were finally brought into a room.

  Madam Chen Luoyan, wife of Chengping Marquis, sat beside a bed. She was slender, with a figure that made it hard to believe she had borne three children.

  As Ji Ping’an approached and got a clearer look, she was momentarily struck—so this was the woman called Luoyan (Falling Swallow).

  Chen Luoyan’s entire being radiated delicate grace. She was like a drifting autumn leaf or a butterfly alighting on peach blossoms in the morning mist. She was a trace of lingering fragrance, a brushstroke of intoxicating twilight.

  Time itself seemed to have favored her. Though she was already past thirty-five, she still looked as radiant as a maiden in the bloom of spring.

  It wasn’t until Ji Ping’an saw Chen Luoyan with her own eyes that she finally understood—when Chengping Marquis married Chen Luoyan, it wasn’t just because some fortune-teller cimed she had a rare, auspicious body suited for childbearing.

  Following etiquette, Ji Ping’an bowed in greeting.

  Chen Luoyan’s delicate features immediately took on a trace of harshness the moment she id eyes on Ji Ping’an. She deliberately made Ji Ping’an kneel for a long time, long enough for her knees to ache, before she finally said indifferently, “You may rise.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  Ji Ping’an carefully rose from the floor, with Dongchun following suit.

  Chen Luoyan ordered someone to take Dongchun away, then pointed to the man lying in bed and said, “I hear you’re rather capable? Take a look. If you can treat him, I’ll consider sparing you your punishment.”

  Ji Ping’an pressed her lips into a tight line. “May I ask what offense I have committed against Madam?”

  “You still dare talk back?” Chen Luoyan snapped at once, her temper fring. “My daughter Pingping is the younger sister of the Princess, and Her Highness has always adored her. If not for you using your so-called medical skill to snder her in front of the Princess and drive a wedge between them, would the Princess have turned on Pingping and sent her to prison?”

  The more she spoke, the angrier she became. Everyone in Bianjing already looked down on her, and now even a merchant girl like Ji Ping’an dared to trip her up?

  And Kaifeng Prefecture? Utterly useless. They had already arrested the real murderer—a servant who had shared a bed with Ma Lishui and killed him out of sudden greed. It had nothing to do with her Pingping. Yet even after she, a marquis’s wife, went in person to demand her daughter’s release, Kaifeng Prefecture still refused.

  That dungeon was cold and damp—how could anyone live there? Her poor Pingping… so pitiful.

  Ji Ping’an took a deep breath. Now she understood why no one in Bianjing liked this Marquis’s wife.

  Ji Ping’an said, “Madam, I have never once mentioned Miss Zhou in front of Her Highness.”

  Chen Luoyan let out a cold snort. “Of course you wouldn’t dare admit it.”

  Ji Ping’an felt her breath catch in her throat.

  "Forget it. There’s no reasoning with her," she thought. "It’s better to treat the patient first."

  She stepped forward to check the man’s pulse. It turned out he had a minor illness—a mild cold. A few doses of medicine would set him right.

  Clearly, Chen Luoyan hadn’t summoned her for the sake of treating anyone. She simply wanted to torment her.

  Ji Ping’an wrote out the prescription.

  But Chen Luoyan still refused to let her go. She ordered a servant to brew the medicine immediately and said that only after confirming the young master’s condition had improved would Ji Ping’an be allowed to leave.

  Only then did Ji Ping’an realize that the person lying on the bed was the Second Young Master of the Chengping Marquis’s household.

  Ji Ping’an remained silent for a long time. She almost wanted to ask Chen Luoyan—wasn’t she afraid Ji Ping’an might tamper with the prescription?

  Who would use their own son’s illness to test a supposed enemy?

  But in the end, Ji Ping’an swallowed the words, lowered her head, and sat motionless in the reception room.

  Suddenly, Chen Luoyan spoke again. “You’re staying at the Song family’s residence now?”

  Ji Ping’an nodded cautiously. “Yes, Madam. My father passed away st winter from illness. Before his death, he entrusted me to the Song family.”

  Chen Luoyan snorted again. “No wonder you turned out this way, mixing with those two girls from the Song family.”

  Ji Ping’an: “……”

  Chen Luoyan rolled her eyes, but even that looked beautiful on her.

  She continued, “Those two girls from the Song family—don’t tell me they haven’t said anything bad about Pingping and me behind our backs?”

  Ji Ping’an remained silent.

  Chen Luoyan huffed. “Hmph, I know what people say about me. That I know nothing of music, chess, calligraphy, or painting. That I’m uneducated and idle.”

  Still silent, Ji Ping’an could only sigh inwardly. She truly had no interest in the feud between the two households.

  Chen Luoyan rambled on, “So what if I don’t know those things? The Song girl likes writing poetry, the Zhan girl likes swordpy. What for? To earn military honors? Let’s be honest—they do it all to raise their value in the marriage market and nd a good husband. And me? I didn’t lift a finger and still married high. My lord treats me well, he’s considerate. I bore him two sons and, in the end, even gave him a beloved daughter. I have sons, daughters, and a husband—I’ve lived a full life. Those little girls are just jealous. Jealous that I got everything without doing anything.”

  As she spoke, Chen Luoyan suddenly frowned and shifted in discomfort—some part of her body was clearly itchy.

  Ji Ping’an: “……”

  No wonder the Song family didn’t get along with the Chengping Marquis’s household.

  Chen Luoyan continued her monologue without needing any response, funting the Marquis’s affection and her carefree life. At the end, she sneered, lifting her gaze at Ji Ping’an. “Let me give you some advice. Don’t let those Song girls lead you astray, thinking music and chess impress men. Men care about two things—your face and whether you can bear sons. Those proud little things may strut around now, but after they marry and pop out three daughters in a row, their husbands will start to despise them.”

  Ji Ping’an: “……” What does that have to do with me?

  She could hardly stand listening anymore. Her left arm moved slightly, and the hidden blood pouch dropped into her palm. Ji Ping’an grabbed her embroidered handkerchief, covered her mouth, and suddenly began coughing violently. When she opened the handkerchief, there was blood inside.

  “You’re coughing blood? How disgusting!” Chen Luoyan recoiled, clearly repulsed. “Filthy.”

  Ji Ping’an kept coughing. “I’ve been weak since childhood and suffer from a terminal illness. That’s why I never considered marrying and dragging down a husband’s household.”

  “At least you’re self-aware.”

  Chen Luoyan’s thighs were itching now, but she couldn’t scratch in front of Ji Ping’an, so she was visibly uncomfortable.

  Then her waist began to itch, too. She couldn’t help but start scratching at it.

  Ji Ping’an frowned, wanting to examine her condition, but just like with the Chengping Marquis before, the ancient-style robes were too thick—she couldn’t see a thing.

  “What are you staring at?” Chen Luoyan gred coldly. “Listen to me: when you return, tell the Princess to release Pingping. Otherwise, I won’t let you off.”

  Ji Ping’an bowed her head and coughed again, eyes quietly scanning Chen Luoyan’s face. Her skin was beautiful, so she wore minimal makeup, but now her face was slightly flushed with a sheen of sweat from agitation.

  She was itchy, just like the Chengping Marquis had been—unable to stop scratching.

  Was it simply a rash? Hives? Or something else?

  Surely a noble house like the Chengping Marquis’s wouldn’t ck for good physicians. If it were an ordinary rash, wouldn't it already have been treated?