"The ghost is your woman!" Qi Yue shoved him hard, raising her hand. "The ghost is your woman, get away, get away! Sleep on your own head!" Chang Yuncheng was nearly furious; this hateful woman had truly gone mad! His chest heaved violently, clearly enraged. He abruptly released Qi Yue and leaned against the carriage wall.

This time, however, he didn't storm off in a huff.

A quiet settled inside the carriage, pierced only by the rumble of wheels, the clip-clop of hooves, and the muffled conversations of the guards flooding in.

"I wasn't trying to do anything," Chang Yuncheng muttered darkly. "Just some kissing and hugging and touching..."

"Touch your sister! Don't talk to me!" Qi Yue hissed low.

Chang Yuncheng’s face flushed, veins bulging; his teeth ground audibly, but in the end, he said nothing more.

Qi Yue moved to the other side to adjust her clothes. She could see the faint marks of kisses on her skin; remembering the chaos of moments before filled her with a mix of shame, mortification, and anger. Thrown into this desolate place, dumped by a faithless modern boyfriend, and nearly violated by this ancient man—why was her luck so terrible? Her eyes inevitably reddened, and the tears she tried to hold back finally began to fall.

Chang Yuncheng saw it.

Apologize? Absolutely not. What was there to apologize for? If anyone needed to apologize, it was that woman!

"Stop crying!" he finally grumbled.

Qi Yue ignored him, not making a sound, merely raising a hand to brush away the falling tears. She straightened her clothes, retrieved her mirror and comb, and began meticulously arranging her hair. This was the first time she had combed her own hair since arriving here. As she slowly worked, her emotions began to settle.

They remained silent until nightfall when they dismounted to find lodging.

The two shared a room at the inn, each occupying their own bed, their quiet so profound that even the attendants dared not speak above a whisper.

In contrast to the stillness of the inn, the Xie residence was in utter chaos. When a middle-aged man was hurried into a room amid constant urging, the women inside were already weeping too hard to stand.

"Doctor An, hurry and look... what's wrong with Hao-ge'er? He won't wake up!" Zhao-ge snatched the child immediately, his voice trembling.

Being woken in the middle of the night seldom improved a physician's mood, especially when he had already examined the child multiple times and diagnosed him with simple diarrhea.

"Illness rushes in like an avalanche, but recovery is slow like drawing silk. Young Master is naturally frail and hard to nurse back to health. Do not fret; administer the medicine slowly and ensure thorough recuperation..." Doctor An spoke slowly. His composure, unmoved even if the sky were falling, was a lesson taught by his father. The first rule for a good doctor was always to remain completely self-assured; it was the greatest comfort to the patient.

"Yes, yes," Zhao-ge nodded, waving away a maidservant and inviting Doctor An to sit.

Doctor An sat down, casually taking the infant's hand. The moment his eyes fell upon the lines and whorls of the little palm, his expression drastically changed.

"How can this be!" he cried out, springing suddenly to his feet.

This exclamation struck the room like a clap of thunder.

"Doctor!" Zhao-ge’s wife shrieked, her legs giving way as she collapsed onto the floor.

This meant the child’s illness was truly dire...

Old Madam Xie was also alerted and arrived, leaning on a maidservant.

"How could a simple stomach ailment lead to this?" she asked, breathing heavily as she sat.

The child had been difficult to raise; she had birthed three sons herself, but only two survived, and now even her grandson generation was slow to produce an heir. They had finally managed to raise this one, and with his hundredth day approaching, was he to fail too?

Doctor An had three lamps lit before him. He bent so close to the child’s palm that onlookers could clearly see the fine sweat beading on his brow. Everyone in the room dared not speak loudly; even the elder maternal aunt and the daughter-in-law covered their mouths with handkerchiefs while weeping, fearful of disturbing the doctor’s diagnosis.

Hearing Old Madam Xie’s words, Doctor An turned around.

"Old Madam, this is not diarrhea," he stated gravely.

Old Madam Xie shot to her feet instantly.

"Whatever it is, just tell me how to cure it," she demanded, her voice already trembling as she guessed the truth.

Doctor An sighed and shook his head.

"This child suffers from the affliction where the liver fails to store blood—a wind seizure. This illness originates in the liver; the liver meridian is beset by wind-heat, which combines with wind-fire, causing the vital energy and blood to rush against their course. Stagnation of qi prevents the flow of fluids, giving rise to phlegm. Stagnation of qi invariably leads to blood stasis. The phlegm and stagnant blood coalesce, leading to stupor, convulsions, and the wind seizure," he recited.

This speech left everyone in the room utterly bewildered.

"Doctor, since you know the symptoms, please treat him quickly," the elder maternal aunt urged anxiously.

Doctor An shook his head.

"This... I must humbly admit my powerlessness regarding this," he said slowly. "There is no medicine that can cure this affliction."

This statement caused an explosion in the room; cries and shouts instantly erupted.

Old Madam Xie sank back into her chair.

"When does your father return?" she roared.

Doctor An sighed.

"Truthfully, even if my father returns, this ailment..." he trailed off, shaking his head. But adhering to the habit of comforting the patient’s family, he rallied his spirit. "Perhaps he can arrive by tomorrow evening, provided the child can hold on until then..."

Saying this, he bowed deeply once more and excused himself.

The room was filled with wailing. Zhao-ge’s wife, however, stopped crying. She sat blankly on the ground while two serving women pinched and slapped her arms.

"My dear mistress, please weep! Let it out, don't bottle it up," the servants cried with tears streaming.

"It's not diarrhea..." Zhao-ge's wife suddenly mumbled, repeating the phrase over and over to herself.

The servants assumed the young mistress had lost her senses from grief and continued tearfully comforting her. Zhao-ge's wife’s voice grew louder, and then she suddenly leaped to her feet.

"It's not diarrhea! She said it! She said it then! She knew!" she suddenly shrieked.

The crying in the room subsided as if silenced by a shockwave, and everyone turned to look at her.

Zhao-ge's wife lunged toward the door, but the frantic servants managed to hold her back.

"Let me go! Go and invite her! Go and invite her to save Hao-ge'er!" the wife struggled and screamed, behaving like a maniac.

"Stop her!" the elder maternal aunt cried through her tears. "What is this nonsense?"

Pulled back from the door, Zhao-ge's wife threw herself toward Zhao-ge.

"Husband, go quickly and ask for the Heir and the Young Madam! The Young Madam can definitely cure him!" she pleaded, gripping her husband's arm so tightly she didn't notice a fingernail breaking off.

"What are you saying?" Zhao-ge asked, wincing from the painful grip.

"Do you remember, when the Young Madam left today, she looked at Hao-ge'er and said he didn't look like he had diarrhea, and that we should watch him carefully," Zhao-ge's wife rushed out, tears now gushing as she recalled the moment, contrasting it with the present.

It was her fault; she had harmed the child. If only she had let the Young Madam examine him then...

Hearing this, everyone in the room suddenly remembered, and their expressions became vividly complex.

"This... perhaps that was just something she said casually, a coincidence..." the elder maternal aunt hesitated.

"Who?" Old Madam Xie, hard of hearing, demanded loudly.

"Grandmother," Zhao-ge's wife stumbled forward, kneeling before Old Madam Xie, weeping. "Please send someone to invite the Young Madam back! She can certainly cure him! Didn't the Heir say she was a divine physician?"

Old Madam Xie heard clearly and stamped her cane.

"This is utter foolishness! Do you truly believe that? What divine physician is she? If she were a divine physician, I'd be an immortal!" she snapped.

"But the Heir never lies. Grandmother, don't you know the Heir’s character?" Zhao-ge’s wife clung to her knees, crying. "Grandmother, when has the Heir ever deceived anyone?"

Old Madam Xie sat back in her chair, her expression complicated.

It was true; her grandson never lied about anything he said...

"Did she really say Hao-ge’er didn't have diarrhea?" she asked.

"She examined Zhao-ge this morning and said right then that it didn't look like diarrhea, but... but we didn't let her look then..." Zhao-ge’s wife nodded, her tears falling like rain again as she recalled. She raised a hand and slapped her own cheek. "Hao-ge'er, it’s your mother who harmed you..."

Though the slap landed on her own face, the elder maternal aunt felt it struck her own—she had been the one who forbade the examination at the time...

"But, but, how could she be a divine physician? You are seeking anyone when desperate. She was just speaking casually, and you’re overthinking it... Besides, even Doctor An said it’s incurable..." the elder maternal aunt argued, her expression shifting between hope and doubt.

She desperately wished for such a divine physician who could save her grandson’s life, but how could that person possibly be the beggar Young Madam from the Dingxi Marquis's estate?

Old Madam Xie sharply struck her cane once, as if making a resolution.

"Prepare horses! Go after her," she commanded.

Qi Yue, in truth, hadn't slept a wink all night.

She and Chang Yuncheng were still sharing a room, but this time there was no fighting over the large bed versus the small cot. In fact, since the carriage incident, they hadn't exchanged a single word.

"What am I to do now?" Qi Yue turned over, messing up her already tousled hair again.

It seemed Chang Yuncheng truly had no intention of divorcing her...

This should be wonderful news for Qi Yueniang, but the problem was, she wasn't Qi Yueniang. Should she truly live as this man's wife?

The thought made Qi Yue turn over again, a strange, unnamable feeling surfacing in her chest... A lifetime was too long, especially for her—this strange era, everything unfamiliar, so many customs she couldn't grasp or accept... so many variables, so much uncertainty... Even in her familiar time, in an environment where she controlled everything, relationships had withered away without cause. How long could a relationship last here? Was falling in love with an ancient man utterly insane?

But what choice did she have? Should she just tell him outright, "I'm not Qi Yueniang, let me go"? That was suicide! This man wasn't Ah Ru; his fist, the size of a sandbag, could probably send her soul scattering back to the cycle of rebirth...

She turned over once more, only to see Chang Yuncheng lift the curtain and sit up.

Qi Yue screamed in fright and pulled the covers up, sitting bolt upright.

"Enough with the noise," Chang Yuncheng grumbled irritably, sitting cross-legged.

Qi Yue clutched her chest, watching him warily.

"What are you trying to do?" she hissed back in a low voice.

"Tell me, what exactly do you want?" Chang Yuncheng took a deep breath and asked slowly.

Qi Yue was momentarily stunned by the question.

"What do I want?" she replied.

"What must I do for you to settle down and stop making a fuss with me?" Chang Yuncheng took another deep breath and spoke slowly.

"When was I making a fuss?" Qi Yue immediately retorted, then raised her eyes to look at him.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, allowing her to make out his features in the tent—this young man in the prime of his youth...

"It is rather inhumane, speaking of it..." she hesitated, deciding that for any relationship, putting oneself in the other's shoes was best. A normal man, returning after three years of campaigning, holding his beautiful wife, yet unable to enjoy the intimacy of marriage—it truly was... difficult...

"Don't you all have secondary partners or something? You can just find one," she finally suggested.

Chang Yuncheng froze for a moment before realizing her meaning; he felt a mixture of anger and amusement.

"Can your brain work normally for once?" he snapped.

"Your brain is the one that’s abnormal," Qi Yue immediately frowned and shot back.

"When I am speaking, can you refrain from talking back?" Chang Yuncheng clenched his jaw, his hands resting on his knees gripping each other so tightly they cracked.

Qi Yue pouted and made a gesture inviting him to speak first.

Chang Yuncheng was amused again, but as he laughed, he sighed.

This detestable woman... He truly had no way around her.

Chang Yuncheng looked at her, his expression gradually softening.

"Yueniang," he called, taking a deep breath. "I—"

Just then, a clamor erupted outside the door.

"Heir! Young Madam! Save us!" a desperate shout rang out.

That cry for help startled them both. Qi Yue immediately swung her legs out of bed.

"What is it?" she called out loudly.

Torches were already lit in the courtyard, illuminating it as if it were midday.

Chang Yuncheng swallowed the words that had reached his lips and stood up.

"What happened?" he asked toward the door, stepping to Qi Yue’s side.