The foreman scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. “Uh, it’s not that I had to come ask or anything… It’s just, the workers, well—earlier at noon you mentioned, Miss Ji, that after work we’d get another batch of meat buns to take home. But there aren’t many left in the kitchen now, not even one per person. Since it’s almost time to clock out, we rough folks just wanted to ask… should we go ahead and pce the order? If it’s too much trouble, that’s okay! We really can’t be greedy after getting paid, right?”

  “Ordering buns isn’t any trouble at all. You’ve all worked so hard—it’s only fair you get something good to eat.” Ji Ping’an replied, then called over Dongchun, who was waiting nearby. From a distance, she instructed her to go to the bun shop next door and have the boss prepare six buns per worker, enough for them to take home and share with their families.

  “Yes, Miss,” Dongchun curtsied and gathered up her skirts before jogging off to pce the order.

  She’d come from a poor family herself. Luck had gotten her sold to the Ji household and eventually chosen to serve by the young miss’s side. That was how her life had improved—so she knew just how tough the poor had it. If Miss Ji was paying, she was happy to do her part.

  The foreman broke into a grin that nearly swallowed his whole face, and the workers who had been sneakily eavesdropping let out excited cheers.

  The bun shop, thrilled to nd a second rge order in one day, rolled up their sleeves and got to kneading with renewed vigor.

  Seeing how happy everyone was, some of the weight in Ji Ping’an’s chest finally eased. She asked Li Tinghui to prepare a bowl of warm water, then picked up two buns and carried them into Yu Liangying’s room.

  Ji Ping’an tore the buns into pieces and soaked them in the warm water until they softened, then handed the bowl to Yu Liangying. “They’re too hard otherwise—might choke you. It’s better for your body to eat them soft.”

  Yu Liangying stared at the softened bun pieces in the bowl as tears fell silently, like stars tumbling from the sky.

  “Thank you… Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the bowl with both hands. She didn’t even bother with chopsticks—just scooped up the soggy mash with her fingers and shoved it into her mouth.

  Ji Ping’an said softly, “We’ll do our best to treat your illness. But as you know, syphilis is very hard to cure. We can’t make any promises.”

  Yu Liangying choked out a reply, “I understand. I never expected to survive.”

  Ji Ping’an added, “By the way—this son you mentioned. Who is he? Where is he now? Do you want us to bring him to you?”

  “No! Please, no!” Yu Liangying shook her head furiously, tears spilling as she sobbed, “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know his mother was a lowly courtesan. He’s doing well now, living a good life. I can’t disturb that. I never dreamed of reuniting with him. I only hoped that maybe… if he happened to pass by here, I could see him from afar, just once…”

  Li Tinghui asked gently, “Then… will he really pass by here?”

  “He will.” Yu Liangying gripped the bowl so tightly that pus oozed from the sores on her hands. “Back then, the doctor said I was too weak to carry a child. But with the help of my sisters in the brothel, I pretended I’d had an abortion. Later, when I couldn’t hide it anymore, they helped me run away and hide. I gave birth, and the baby was given to another family. Then I was captured and dragged back. Twenty years—it’s been twenty years. I didn’t know where my child was or even if he was alive… until recently.”

  Her voice trembled. “When the brothel found out I was sick, they wanted to kill me. I fled with everything I had. I was hiding here in this alley when I saw him again.”

  Ji Ping’an asked, “How are you sure he’s your son?”

  Yu Liangying replied, “My son has a birthmark! A red crescent-shaped birthmark on his lower back!”

  Ji Ping’an nodded.

  So, it was just a chance encounter—Yu Liangying had spotted someone she believed was her son and was now hoping fate would pity her, letting her catch one st glimpse before death. She didn’t even know who her son was now or what his status might be.

  No wonder she’d been hiding in the clinic for so long and still hadn’t left.

  Ji Ping’an thought for a moment and asked again, “Are you the only one at the brothel who’s sick?”

  Brothels dealt in flesh. The women had no right to choose their clients. Whoever infected Yu Liangying could’ve also infected others, who in turn saw more clients, continuing the cycle indefinitely.

  And if the Chengping Marquis had caught the same disease…

  Ji Ping’an dared not imagine how many brothels that man had visited—how many women he had slept with.

  Yu Liangying pressed her lips together and set down the now-clean bowl. “I ran away that day because…”

  Li Tinghui asked, “Because of what?”

  Yu Liangying opened her mouth but hesitated.

  Ji Ping’an reassured her, “Don’t be afraid. We’ve already promised to help—you have our word.”

  Yu Liangying said, “I… I don’t know the full story. I’m already thirty-five. Clients think I’m too old, so I was only allowed to take low-ranking customers. After I got sick, they threw me into the Bck Room.”

  “That’s where they put sick women,” she said hoarsely. “If you survive, you come out. If not… they bury you.”

  “One day, I overheard a conversation. Apparently, a very high-ranking official got furious. He was a regur at brothels, kept girls in almost all of them. Then he caught the disease. They arrested several brothel managers and started an internal purge. Any girls found with the disease were executed and cremated. The number of us in the Bck Room kept shrinking. I wasn’t connected to that noble, since I only saw the lower-tier guests. So no one suspected me. I hid until the very end—and escaped when they weren’t paying attention.”

  Ji Ping’an said quietly, “You couldn’t have escaped alone. Someone helped you from inside the brothel, didn’t they?”

  Yu Liangying hesitated. She didn’t want to expose the women inside. Those sisters were already struggling to survive.

  When she was pregnant, they’d helped her escape and gotten beaten for it. When the baby was adopted out, they even contributed their own hidden savings to find a good foster family.

  You had to understand—prostitutes weren’t allowed to have personal savings. Any tips from clients belonged to the brothel. If a girl were caught hiding money, her legs could be whipped until they were useless. The money those women saved had been earned with blood and tears. And yet they still pooled it together to make sure Yu Liangying’s child was sent to a kind home.

  Seeing her hesitation, Ji Ping’an didn’t press her further. After giving some instructions and checking on her condition, she and Li Tinghui left the room.

  Once outside, Li Tinghui wiped at her tears. “Do you think… all the girls who were sick are dead?”

  Ji Ping’an didn’t want to assume the worst. “We can try to ask around.”

  They changed out of their outer garments, disinfected their hands, and only then did Li Tinghui take her leave. Ji Ping’an headed to the front hall.

  By then, the bun shop owner had already delivered the new batch of buns, and the foreman was helping the workers divvy them up.

  Zhang Shi was hugging six hot, freshly baked buns to his chest. He didn’t mind the heat at all—the aroma alone made him feel like the happiest man alive.

  “Miss Ji,” Zhang Shi said with a beaming grin, “someone came to cause trouble just now. We didn’t want to bother you and Miss Li, so we kicked them out.”

  Ji Ping’an froze. “Huh? Someone came to cause trouble?”

  “Sure did.” Dongchun huffed, hands on her hips. “Miss, you don’t even know! A whole gang of shady-looking men barged in carrying sticks. Said they were from Chunhua House and demanded we hand someone over. Hand her over, my foot! The leader looked like pure scum. No way we’re involved with people like that. Everyone swarmed them and drove them out. Hmph! Must’ve come to extort money now that they know our clinic’s about to reopen.”

  Ji Ping’an blinked. “…”

  Zhang Shi added indignantly, “Yeah! They were asking if we’d seen a woman with sores and pus on her skin. Said they had a tip she was here and tried to force their way in to search. I mean, who do they think they are? This is a clinic, not some rat’s den!”

  Ji Ping’an paused again, then asked, “So… you really didn’t know?”

  Zhang Shi scratched his head and chuckled. “Does it matter if we knew? We’re people with consciences.”

  He nudged the buns in his arms. “We’re just rough borers. We don’t know much. But if the dy’s good to us, we’ll protect her, simple as that.”

  Ji Ping’an turned to Dongchun. “And you?”

  Dongchun huffed. “I serve you, Miss. Our Ji family is a respectable household in Jinling. Why would I entertain the likes of those street thugs?”

  Ji Ping’an burst out ughing and reached over to tap Dongchun’s forehead. “You little rascal. For a moment, I really thought you didn’t know.”

  Dongchun lifted her chin proudly.

  …

  Back at the Chengping Marquis’s estate, Zhou Pingping returned in tears after being spped twice by Song Zhiyin.

  The Marquis had already been resentful about Zhou Pingping’s time in prison. He’d bmed the Song family and hated Ji Ping’an. And now, his beloved daughter had been struck on the street by a Song girl.

  Outrageous!

  Furious, the Marquis stormed into the pace to demand justice from the Emperor.

  Yanhe Hall.

  The Emperor, Zhou Sheng, set down the red-ink memorial in his hand. He slowly raised his eyes, giving the Marquis a casual, sweeping gnce, and let out a low, mocking chuckle from deep in his throat.

  “So, Chengping Marquis thinks I have nothing better to do than handle which noble girl spped which noble girl over some petty jealousy?”

  The Marquis broke out in cold sweat and dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty, I didn’t mean it like that…”

  “What do you mean by that?” Zhou Sheng's voice was calm and even, but it carried immense pressure.

  “I…” Chengping Marquis wiped the sweat from his forehead. “What I mean is that Minister Song has allowed his daughter to commit violence in public, showing btant disregard for royal kin… This… this is an insult to the imperial family.”

  “And then?” Zhou Sheng set down the brush in his hand and looked at the marquis with a trace of amusement. “What do you want me to do—issue an edict so your daughter can sp her back?”

  Chengping Marquis instantly broke out in a cold sweat. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “I think you dare plenty,” Zhou Sheng said coldly.

  His imposing gaze crashed down like Mount Tai, leaving the marquis trembling with fear.

  A bunch of useless men who only know how to gang up and py politics.

  Zhou Sheng cursed inwardly, then waved a hand and told the marquis to get lost.

  Chengping Marquis finally left, as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest.

  Zhou Sheng picked up his teacup and downed several gulps. “These old bastards are idle again.”

  Chief Eunuch Wang Fu, seeing that the cup was empty, quickly poured a fresh one. He knew the emperor’s chronic migraines were fring up again.

  The emperor prided himself on his image and rarely saw officials when his headaches struck—but Chengping Marquis just had to come stirring trouble at the worst possible time.

  Thankfully, this tea had been specially formuted by the Imperial Medical Bureau and helped relieve his pain.

  After a few more sips, Zhou Sheng asked, “How is the Princess doing tely?”

  Wang Fu bowed low. “Your Majesty, Her Highness’s strange illness has been cured. She has been well these past few days. Yesterday, she even sent over a sachet said to have calming properties. We had it tested by the Imperial Medical Bureau—it was harmless. Fortunately, the young woman who treated Her Highness, Ji Ping’an, discovered that the lead-based face powder was toxic. Otherwise, the Imperial Bureau would still be using it in calming prescriptions.”

  Zhou Sheng massaged his temple. “Ji Ping’an? That name sounds familiar.”

  Wang Fu thought for a moment, then smiled. “When there was a vacancy for an assistant minister in the Ministry of Revenue, Your Majesty held Minister Song accountable and ordered an investigation into that strange feigned death case. The girl who saved a life in public with ice water—that might have been her. Though… it could just be someone with the same name.”

  Zhou Sheng waved dismissively. That detail didn’t matter to him.

  Whenever his migraine hit, Zhou Sheng wanted to kill someone. A violent irritation rose in his eyes. “Didn’t Chengping Marquis come asking me to get justice for his precious daughter?”

  At those words, Wang Fu knew something bad was coming. He bowed even lower. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Zhou Sheng said, “Then pass my decree. Since Zhou Pingping, daughter of Chengping Marquis, was spped in public and harbors a grudge, I grant her a wooden man. She is to sp it three times each morning, noon, and night with full force. Once a month has passed and her anger is spent, she may stop.”

  Wang Fu’s heart skipped a beat.

  This wasn’t just punishing the marquis’s daughter—it was clearly also for the sake of the Princess.

  That girl from the Chengping household dared to use the Princess as a weapon. Truly audacious.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I will deliver the decree immediately.”

  Before sunset, the imperial edict arrived at Chengping Marquis’s estate.

  Zhou Pingping knelt to receive the edict. Her world colpsed. Both Chengping Marquis and Chen Luoyan were struck as if by lightning.

  This wasn’t just a sp on the wrist—it was the Emperor’s public decration to the capital that he disliked the Chengping household.

  The next morning, the eunuch An Shun arrived before dawn to supervise the punishment.

  Zhou Pingping stood in front of the wooden figure, which was taller than her, her face alternating between pale and flushed.

  An Shun’s voice was sharp and unrelenting: “Miss Zhou, please strike the wooden man three times.”

  Smack.

  Zhou Pingping spped it. Her palm burned.

  “That was too light,” An Shun said. “The decree states she must strike with full force. That one doesn’t count.”

  “What gives you the right to say that?” Zhou Pingping’s chest heaved. “Do you know how painful it is to sp with full strength three times?”

  An Shun repeated expressionlessly, “Miss Zhou, please comply with the imperial edict and strike the wooden man three times with full force.”

  “Can’t you just turn a blind eye?”

  “To defy an imperial edict is to deceive the Emperor. Miss Zhou, you would do well to choose your words carefully.”

  “You—”

  “Please carry out the decree.”

  Seeing she was about to make a scene, Chengping Marquis shouted, “Enough! Do as the decree commands! Do you want the whole family executed for defying imperial orders?”

  Zhou Pingping’s eyes reddened with injustice. She raised her hand and spped the wooden man with all her strength.

  Smack.

  “First sp.”

  Smack.

  “Second sp.”

  Smack.

  “Third sp.”

  An Shun bowed and withdrew.

  Zhou Pingping let her hand fall limply at her side, burning with pain.

  “Blood!” her maid Huang Ying cried. “Miss, you’re bleeding!”

  Zhou Pingping raised her hand. The wooden man hadn’t been sanded smooth and still had splinters. Her hand had gone numb after the first two sps, so she hadn’t noticed that one had pierced her palm.

  Gritting her teeth, Zhou Pingping seethed.

  Song Zhiyin. Song Zhishu. Ji Ping’an. You b*****s… I’ll settle this with you all one day.

  …

  After dinner, in the courtyard, a stone table was id with a basket of fruits, steamed buns, and vegetables—ingredients Ji Ping’an intended to use to cultivate penicillin mold.

  Penicillin itself was easy enough to grow. Everything else, however, was much harder.

  She set down her brush and held up the freshly drawn flowchart of the penicillin production process, her brows furrowed in thought.

  To make penicillin, she’d need charcoal, funnels, cotton, and vegetable oil. Fortunately, the ceramic craftsmanship of this era was already highly developed, so ceramics could substitute for gssware. As for cotton, charcoal, and oil, those were easy to come by. With money, anything could be bought. And the Ji family had no shortage of that.

  But the same old problems remained: what could she use in pce of a syringe? How could she ensure purity and maintain the correct temperature? Was she supposed to gamble with lives?

  As the saying goes, medical advancement was inseparable from industrial progress.

  Ji Ping’an habitually bit the end of her brush. She tried not to overthink it. One step at a time. For now, she’d begin cultivating the mold and, in the meantime, seek out skilled craftsmen to see if they could fashion a proper needle.

  "The needle doesn’t need to be as precise as a modern one—just functional will do."

  After all, penicillin was administered via intramuscur injection. It didn’t need to be threaded into delicate veins.

  Suddenly, a light chuckle came from the courtyard gate.

  Ji Ping’an paused and looked over.

  The evening glow painted the sky in hues of rose and gold. Dressed in a pale moon-colored robe, Song Huaiyu approached, upright and refined, like pine and bamboo in the breeze.

  He walked over, pced a small packet of sweets on the table, and gestured toward Ji Ping’an’s face.

  “What?” Ji Ping’an touched her cheek—her fingers came away stained with ink. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed at all. She hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping her face.

  Song Huaiyu picked up the diagram she’d been working on, his brow twitching several times.

  The sheet was a mess—lines askew, scattered ink blots, smudges here and there.

  Catching his expression, Ji Ping’an felt a little embarrassed. For someone used to ballpoint pens and digital prescriptions, controlling a calligraphy brush was no easy feat.

  She reached out with two fingers and sheepishly retrieved the drawing. “It’s the kind of thing where… as long as you get the general idea, it’s fine.”

  “Mm…” Song Huaiyu paused for a couple of seconds. “So, what is this supposed to be? A muddy road after a rainstorm?”

  “…” Ji Ping’an was speechless.

  “It’s supposed to be something serious,” she muttered.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed,” Song Huaiyu replied dryly.

  You don’t have to be that honest.

  Ji Ping’an gritted her teeth and changed the subject. As she opened the packet of sweets, she asked, “Did the sugar master argue with his wife again today?”

  “No,” Song Huaiyu replied.

  Ji Ping’an blinked. “Then… this came from somewhere else?”

  “I passed by Miaoren Hall on patrol. Heard your old ailment had fred up again. Waited at the door for a while, but they said you were busy. After my shift ended, I went over and bought up all the sweets they had left.”

  Ji Ping’an popped a plum-fvored candy into her mouth—more sour than the others. Her whole face puckered up.

  Song Huaiyu promptly unwrapped a pear-fvored one and tucked it into her mouth, easing the sourness a little.

  “Cousin Huaiyu,” Ji Ping’an asked, “I forgot to ask st time—do you keep giving me sweets because of that low blood sugar episode at Kaifeng Prefecture?”

  “No,” he shook his head. The sunset flickered in his eyes like a restless tide. “It’s because… when you’re sick, getting a piece of candy is the happiest thing.”

  Ji Ping’an hesitated. “You overheard that? That wasn’t me. That was something one of my patients said.”

  “Mm.” Song Huaiyu gave a noncommittal hum. Then he spread a clean sheet of paper on the table and lifted the brush. “What were you trying to draw just now?”

  “You’ll draw it for me?” Ji Ping’an asked.

  “If it’s for someone else to look at,” he replied, “you’d better redraw it properly.”

  “Okay.” Ji Ping’an quickly set the candy aside and began describing the shapes and mechanisms she had in mind. Song Huaiyu was quick to grasp her meaning—she barely had to expin before he was drawing with uncanny accuracy.

  Soon, the diagram was done.

  He pointed to one part and asked, “What’s this?”

  “A syringe,” Ji Ping’an expined, using gestures to illustrate. “It’s a device that pushes medicine into the body. Look—this part is the needle. It’s hollow inside and connects to this tube, which holds the liquid. Like water, but it’s medicine. The needle is inserted into the muscle, and the medicine is pushed into the body.”

  “It must be injected?” Song Huaiyu asked.

  “Some medicine can be taken orally or injected. But some can only be injected. If taken by mouth, it goes through the digestive tract—well, through the stomach…” Ji Ping’an tried to avoid modern terminology. “That can destroy the medicinal components or turn them into something else, making the medicine ineffective. It has to go directly into the body. There’s subcutaneous injection, intramuscur injection, and another kind where the needle goes into the vein for IV infusion…”

  As she spoke, Ji Ping’an realized she’d gone off on a tangent. Song Huaiyu was staring at her intently.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Was that boring?”

  “Not at all,” he replied, drawing back his gaze. “I don’t know much about medicine, but the way you expin things… It’s very interesting.”

  Pointing to the needle on the diagram, he asked, “This part sounds like it requires very fine craftsmanship. Do you know a craftsman who can make it?”

  Ji Ping’an shook her head. “I was pnning to ask around tomorrow.”

  “Iron tools are reguted by the court,” Song Huaiyu said. “Any bcksmith you find will be registered with the authorities. Asking one by one would take too long. I’ll send someone to make inquiries for you tomorrow. You’ll get an answer much faster that way.”

  Ji Ping’an pressed her hands together. “Cousin Huaiyu, you’re the best person in the world. I thank you on behalf of my patient.”

  Song Huaiyu smiled. “If you’re grateful, then next time, tell me more about what you just expined. You make it sound fascinating.”

  “I will,” she said with a bright smile.

  …

  Early the next morning, Ji Ping’an left the house with Dongchun. First, they went to a porcein shop to custom-order some ceramic pieces based on her diagram. Then they visited a charcoal store and stocked up before heading to Miaoren Hall.

  By the time they arrived, Li Tinghui was already there. Ji Ping’an pulled out the diagram and expined her pn.

  Li Tinghui was puzzled for a long while and kept asking what penicillin actually was. Ji Ping’an expined as best she could, but Li Tinghui still looked skeptical.

  “So you’re saying,” Li Tinghui asked, “if you can’t guarantee there are no impurities, injecting penicillin could very likely be fatal?”

  Ji Ping’an nodded. “That’s why we can start by testing on a few rats. But Yu Liangying’s condition is severe. To fully recover, she’ll need rge doses of penicillin. We won’t have time to test every batch. And using this primitive method, the actual yield of usable penicillin will probably be extremely low.”

  “So it’s basically gambling with lives.”

  “There’s no other choice,” Ji Ping’an said quietly. “This is all we’ve got.”

  Li Tinghui thought for a long while. “We need to ask Yu Liangying for her opinion.”

  Ji Ping’an replied, “That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you first—so we can ask her together.”

  The two of them entered Yu Liangying’s room.

  She was still jumpy as a frightened bird. At the sound of the door opening, she began to tremble uncontrolbly. It wasn’t until she saw it was Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui that she finally rexed.

  After hearing what Ji Ping’an had to say, Yu Liangying didn’t hesitate—she chose to try the treatment.

  This illness was a death sentence anyway. If she didn’t try, she would die. If she did, maybe—just maybe—there was a sliver of hope.

  And if she lived… maybe she’d get to see her child a little longer.

  Li Tinghui said, “Then you’ll need to sign a waiver.”

  “A what?” Yu Liangying asked.

  “A written statement,” Li Tinghui expined. “In bck and white, with your signature and fingerprint, stating clearly that you’re taking the medicine of your own will, fully aware of all the risks, and that no matter what happens, you won’t hold Miss Ji responsible. Don’t bme me for being cold-hearted or for not trusting you. We’re strangers, and we’re already going above and beyond just by trying to treat you.”

  She continued, “I’ve studied medicine with my grandfather since I was young. As I got older, I accompanied him on house calls, wrote prescriptions, and treated patients. In over a decade, I’ve seen all kinds of people. Most patients are kind and honest, but it only takes a few rotten apples. They’ll cry poverty before treatment, then turn around and deny everything afterward. Even if the patient never compins, their families might come stir up trouble at the clinic if something happens.”

  “Miss Yu, you’re from a brothel. If something goes wrong and you die during treatment, maybe you wouldn’t bme us, but what if someone from the brothel gets wind of it and refuses to let it go? We need to be prepared.”

  Ji Ping’an nodded in agreement. What Li Tinghui said made perfect sense. She’d encountered cases in the hospital too—family members getting overly emotional, sometimes causing scenes. It was never as dramatic as in the news, but it still brought trouble to the medical staff.

  “I understand,” Yu Liangying said.

  “Forgive me for asking,” Ji Ping’an said gently, “but Miss Yu… do you know how to write?”

  “I learned a bit from one of the top courtesans at the brothel,” she replied. “Not much, and my handwriting’s terrible.”

  “That’s fine,” Ji Ping’an said. “As long as the meaning is clear.”

  Yu Liangying nodded. “Alright.”

  With her consent, Ji Ping’an and Li Tinghui brought over ink and paper. Ji Ping’an dictated the waiver, and Yu Liangying wrote it down. When she finished, Ji Ping’an stored the document in a locked drawer in the newly renovated pharmacy.

  Then the two sat down to discuss how to produce the penicillin.

  “Miss Ji,” Li Tinghui began, “I was thinking about something. When I went to harvest peonies yesterday, the farmers mentioned this spring came early and is ending quickly. The temperature’s been rising fast, so the peonies bloomed and withered sooner than usual. It might get hot enough soon for what you need, but they also said it won’t st long. Rain’s coming, and the temperature will drop again. Can we finish in time?”

  “Is there any way to know exactly how many days it’ll stay warm?” Ji Ping’an asked.

  Li Tinghui shook her head. “I only overheard that bit. But farmers rely on the weather for a living, and experienced ones can predict changes just by the wind and soil. I’ll head back and ask more specifically.”

  “Good idea,” Ji Ping’an agreed. “Also, Miaoren Hall is still under renovation. Too many eyes and ears. Once Miss Yu sees her child, we should move her elsewhere for treatment. I’m afraid people from the brothel will come looking.”

  “I have a small house outside the city,” Li Tinghui offered. “It used to be a rest stop when gathering herbs. No one lives there now.”

  “Perfect.”

  The two quickly finalized the pn and split up to handle their tasks.

  Li Tinghui went to question the farmers about the exact weather window. Ji Ping’an and Dongchun stayed behind to prepare medicine.

  Before extracting the penicillin, Yu Liangying still needed to take decoctions to strengthen her body, especially after being hit by a carriage.

  Once the medicine was ready, Ji Ping’an and Dongchun brought it to Yu Liangying’s room, only to find it empty.

  “She’s gone,” Dongchun said after searching around. “Miss, there’s no one here.”

  “Check the back gate.”

  Ji Ping’an set the medicine down.

  The brothel people were still looking for her, and with her illness, Yu Liangying didn’t dare go far or approach others. She had nowhere to go.

  She didn’t care about her own life anymore. All she wanted was one glimpse of her child.

  Vanishing at this exact time? Ji Ping’an guessed she must’ve st seen her son at this hour, and gone out again to wait for him.

  Sure enough, they found Yu Liangying near the back gate.

  She was wrapped tightly in yers, hidden behind a pile of trash in an alley, only her eyes exposed, locked on the road ahead.

  Soon, they heard hoofbeats.

  Ji Ping’an walked closer.

  A group of over twenty soldiers on tall warhorses rode into view.

  They had just finished drills. Most of the Dragon Guards were still shirtless, muscles glistening.

  That was when it hit Ji Ping’an—what a red crescent-shaped birthmark on the lower back truly meant.

  Bianjing was the capital, with strict dress codes for civilians. And it was spring—still chilly. Ordinary folks wouldn’t walk around half-naked.

  A birthmark in such a private spot wouldn’t be visible without undressing.

  Yet Yu Liangying insisted on waiting here, meaning she knew her son would pass by this street, and that he wasn’t just some day borer with no set schedule.

  If she’d waited this long without seeing him, he likely didn’t live or work nearby.

  He must be one of the soldiers who drilled outside the city, returning at fixed times. And perhaps, after training, they removed their shirts from the heat or to condition themselves.

  Then Yu Liangying’s son… was one of the Dragon Guard.

  Ji Ping’an stepped out of the alley and began scanning their backs, searching for that red crescent.

  But none of them had it.

  Until—one final horse galloped up, catching up from behind…

  Bare-chested, there was a crescent-shaped birthmark right on his lower back.

  Ji Ping’an was just starting to feel happy for Yu Liangying—she was finally about to see her son—when suddenly, a soldier on horseback blocked the man from view.

  The marching column was about to pass through the alley, and from where Yu Liangying was hiding, she couldn’t see his face at all.

  Yu Liangying lowered her head in disappointment.

  Ji Ping’an spotted a familiar face among the Dragon Guard. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, stopping in front of the rider.

  Horses weren’t allowed to gallop inside Bianjing, so even the Dragon Guard could only proceed at a slow pace when returning to the city.

  Ji Ping’an stepped into the horse’s path. “Brother, do you still remember me?”

  The man studied her face, brows furrowed—clearly, he didn’t recognize her right away.

  Ji Ping’an said, “You’re the one who forced me into the Chengping Marquis’s residence that day.”

  Recognition dawned. “May I ask, Miss, why you’ve stopped me today?”

  Ji Ping’an replied, “Just happened to run into you—was afraid I wouldn’t get another chance, so I wanted to clear up a lingering doubt.”

  The man raised an eyebrow, signaling her to go on.

  Before she could speak, the commanding officer of the Dragon Guard, Xie Wuyu, rode over. His voice was cold: “Wang Lu, why are you falling behind?”

  “Boss, someone stopped me,” Wang Lu said, pointing to Ji Ping’an.

  Xie Wuyu sat tall on horseback, casting a sweeping gnce over Ji Ping’an from above. His pitch-bck eyes were like ink. Then, ignoring her completely, he told Wang Lu, “Don’t waste time.”

  Wang Lu turned back to Ji Ping’an. “Miss, what’s your question?”

  Ji Ping’an had only meant to dey the procession slightly—just enough to create a stir so Yu Liangying might glimpse her son. She hadn’t expected her son to be Xie Wuyu himself, and for him to actually ride over.

  Forcing herself to stay calm, she said, “That day outside the Chengping Marquis’s residence, you said to me, ‘Just following orders, apologies.’ I want to know—whose orders? The marquis hired your unit, yes, but Chen Luoyan had no authority to issue orders. So, who gave the command that forced you to drag me into that mansion?”

  The moment she finished speaking, the air fell unnaturally silent.

  Ji Ping’an’s heart started to pound. D-Did she say something wrong? Was this a forbidden question?

  All she wanted was to make conversation under some pretext…