March the eighteenth was the day Qi Yue moved into her new residence. Early in the morning, helpers crowded the courtyard. In truth, all the belongings had already been moved; today was merely for the ritual of offering sacrifices to the Kitchen God.

Handing the key to Cui Zhi, Qi Yue took one last look at the Wang family's old house and nodded her farewell.

“Mistress Qi, why insist on buying another house? You could have bought this one,” Cui Zhi said, a note of reluctance in her voice.

Qi Yue smiled.

“That place is closer to the Qianjintang Hall, making it more convenient for me when I’m on night duty,” she explained.

That wasn't the real reason, and Cui Zhi knew it. Since Qi Yue wasn't saying more, she didn't press the matter.

“Come visit when you have time,” Qi Yue chuckled, patted her hand, and turned to board the carriage.

The disciples from the street had already departed amidst cheerful noise. A Ru followed her into the carriage, waving goodbye to Cui Zhi as the carriage slowly pulled away.

Cui Zhi stood at the mouth of the alley until she could no longer see them, reluctant to withdraw her gaze.

“Miss, let’s go back now,” the old servant woman from the Wang family said with a smile. “You weren’t gone that long; are you still missing Mistress Qi that much?”

Cui Zhi finally got into her own carriage and sighed.

“I really am,” she admitted.

The driver coaxed the horse forward, and the old woman sat beside Cui Zhi, chuckling.

“Mistress Qi is such a good person, to make you miss her so much that even the Old Madam misses her?” she teased.

This remark traveled back to the Wang household and was quickly relayed, prompting the Old Madam Wang to tease Cui Zhi herself.

“They say daughters are outgoing; I raised Cui Zhi for so many years, and a few days with someone else and she’s already been snatched away,” the Old Madam laughed.

The daughters-in-law and grandchildren gathered in the room followed suit with laughter.

“If Mistress Qi were a man, I’d truly ask the Old Madam to give her to me,” Cui Zhi said, showing no fear, as she kneaded the Old Madam’s shoulders.

This statement caused another burst of laughter in the room.

“You shameless girl,” the Old Madam remarked, though there was no hint of censure in her tone.

“Is Mistress Qi really that wonderful?” one of the young wives asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. The last time Qi Yue came to fight, these female relatives hadn't witnessed it firsthand; they had only heard the accounts later from their husbands and children, combined with the rumors circulating outside. They truly couldn't form a clear picture of what kind of woman she was.

Young Master Wang was also present, slowly sipping his tea while listening to their conversation.

“Yes,” Cui Zhi affirmed. “It’s hard to pinpoint what makes her so good; it’s just that when you’re with her, the feeling is… well, very… very comfortable.”

She paused, searching for the right word, tilting her head in thought.

“Comfortable?”

What kind of evaluation was that? Everyone laughed and asked each other.

“Elder Brother, what do you think?” someone asked Young Master Wang.

Young Master Wang was momentarily taken aback by the question; he set down his teacup.

“Perhaps it brings a stillness to the mind,” he offered.

Cui Zhi nodded vigorously.

“Exactly! That’s it. When you’re with Mistress Qi, you feel completely at ease; you don’t have to think about anything, and whatever you say is fine,” she smiled.

The Old Madam reached out and poked her on the head.

“You might as well just say Mistress Qi spoils you rotten,” she said with a laugh.

Laughter erupted again in the room. Young Master Wang set down his teacup and walked out.

The Old Madam watched his retreating back.

“I wonder if I’ll ever have the chance to taste what it feels like to be around Mistress Qi,” she murmured, a half-smile playing on her lips.

Qi Yue’s new residence was equally lively. After seeing off the disciples from Qianjintang Hall, unexpected visitors arrived at the door.

“Auntie…” As soon as Yan’er saw Qi Yue, she forgot the countless instructions her mother had given her about how to address her, crying out immediately and rushing forward with open arms.

Qi Yue smiled, opening her own arms to catch her.

“Good, our Yan’er has gained some weight again!” she exclaimed, setting Yan’er down after testing her weight.

Chang Chunlan stepped inside and began to cry again upon seeing Qi Yue.

“Why are you crying, Elder Sister?” Qi Yue said cheerfully, taking her hand and ushering her inside to sit, while she quickly examined Yan’er.

“Not bad, the wound is healing nicely,” she said with satisfaction. “In a while longer, I’ll do a restorative treatment for you.”

Yan’er nodded.

Chang Chunlan quickly thrust a bundle at her and didn’t sit down inside the room.

“This is a housewarming gift from Second Sister and Third Sister, sent through me. I dare not linger; I must leave now. Knowing you are well puts our minds at ease,” she said quickly.

Qi Yue accepted the gift with thanks, understanding that her sisters lacked freedom at home and were reliant on the Xie family. Given the extremely hostile relationship Qi Yue currently had with the Marquis Dingxi’s household, Chang Chunlan had taken a considerable risk coming out. She wouldn't keep her any longer.

Yan’er was reluctantly pulled away by Chang Chunlan, crying plaintively.

Chang Chunlan entered quietly with her child, but before she could reach her own courtyard, she was intercepted by two maids.

“Eldest Miss, the Mistress requests your presence,” they said, their smiles anything but genuine.

Chang Chunlan’s heart sank; she immediately understood what was happening. Sure enough, upon arriving at Xie Shi’s courtyard, Chang Shulan and Chang Huilan were both standing with their heads bowed, and surprisingly, Chang Yunqi was also present.

“Where have you been?” Xie Shi asked Chang Chunlan coldly.

Chang Chunlan kept her head down.

“I went out to buy a few things in the street,” she replied.

Xie Shi slammed the table with a sharp pa sound.

“Do you think I’m an idiot or dead?” she sneered.

“Mother, it was me…” Chang Shulan began to speak.

“Mother, I took Yan’er to see Aunt Qi Yue; I wanted her to check Yan’er’s injury,” Chang Chunlan interjected immediately, taking Chang Shulan’s words.

Xie Shi let out a cold laugh.

“If that’s the case, you might as well move over there to live with her; it would certainly be more convenient for supervision,” she retorted.

Chang Chunlan sank to her knees before she could speak. Unseen until that moment, Yan’er, who had been standing outside the door, rushed in.

“I’m going to live with Auntie; I don’t want to live with you! Bad person!” she shouted loudly.

With that, she turned and bolted out the door.

Xie Shi trembled with rage. Chang Chunlan quickly chased after her.

“Let them go!” Xie Shi commanded.

Chang Shulan and Chang Huilan kept their heads down, daring not to speak.

“Mother, don't be angry. It’s just a child’s tantrum,” Chang Yunqi said soothingly, approaching with tea.

Xie Shi accepted the tea and managed to calm herself slightly.

“You have the County Examination tomorrow; you shouldn't stay here. Go and rest early,” she instructed. “Your father is in a poor mood, so we won’t hold a large banquet for you.”

According to custom, before entering the examination hall, families would hold a banquet to pray for the examinee’s success.

“I worry Mother for nothing; there’s truly no need,” Chang Yunqi said with a smile.

Xie Shi nodded, satisfied with his dutiful demeanor, and set down the teacup.

Chang Yunqi immediately excused himself. As the three siblings walked out, Chang Huilan shot Chang Yunqi a cold look.

“Now that Elder Brother is gone, your time to shine as the favored son has finally arrived, hasn't it,” she said, her smile sharp.

Chang Yunqi seemed not to hear, continuing on his way unhurriedly.

Chang Huilan stamped her foot in anger.

“Truly, what kind of mother raises what kind of son—so heartless,” she muttered. Finishing the sentence, she noticed Chang Shulan’s awkward expression beside her and immediately felt awkward herself. Chang Yunqi and Chang Shulan shared the same mother. “Uh, Sister, I didn't mean you… I didn't mean…”

Chang Shulan patted her hand.

“Enough, I know. Stop explaining,” she said. “Go quickly and check on Elder Sister.”

As twilight descended, the once bustling streets settled into quiet repose. A clerk at a pharmacy was taking down the lanterns. Inside the room, a doctor carefully unfolded a letter, reading it intently by the lamplight.

A series of sharp knocks suddenly sounded at the door.

“Doctor, save us! Doctor, please!” came the frantic, tear-choked cries.

Such sounds were common for a pharmacy, causing no alarm. The door was quickly opened, and four or five burly men rushed in, carrying a person.

The injured man was covered in blood, head to toe, from multiple stab wounds. Looking at the men carrying him, they were all rough and heavily built, bearing scars themselves.

“What are you staring at? He’s your patient. If you heal him, the master won’t treat you poorly!” the leading man growled, glaring and patting his waist, which was noticeably bulging with a concealed weapon.

The clerk beside him couldn't help but shrink back.

The doctor, however, showed no fear. He calmly reached out to check the pulse and examine the wounds, then stood up, lost in thought for a moment.

Seeing his silence, the expressions of the men grew paler.

“Only the head wound is severe; it’s not insurmountable,” the doctor finally said.

After their initial shock, immense relief washed over them. One man couldn't resist grabbing the doctor’s arm.

“Then Doctor, please save my Elder Brother quickly,” he urged.

But the doctor’s expression became troubled.

“Although it’s not life-threateningly severe, this is not my specialty,” he said softly and gently.

The men’s faces immediately darkened again.

What did this mean?

“Are you saying you won’t treat him?” they demanded fiercely.

“It’s just that I am not skilled with external trauma like this. However, the Qianjintang Hall on East Street is very proficient in such matters,” the doctor said with a slight smile, gesturing outward.

The men exchanged glances.

“Doctor Liu is a hereditary master of contusions and sprains, and he has secret formulas. Perhaps you gentlemen should try there; he will recover faster,” the doctor continued, his manner mild. “Of course, I can treat him, but it will be slower. If you brave men…”

Since he had put it that way, the men were certainly not going to let him treat the patient.

“Then we will go there,” they said, immediately lifting the man and hurrying out en masse.

The lingering scent of blood remained in the room. The clerk opened the door to air it out.

“Master, why couldn't we treat the external head injury?” he asked, confused. “Are we inferior to Qianjintang Hall? Master, why undermine yourself? If you talk like this, fewer people will come to us in the future.”

The doctor smiled.

“I spoke too gently. In reality, this man is gravely injured,” he stated.

The clerk gasped, a vague understanding dawning on him. So, he intentionally refused treatment? And sent them to Qianjintang?

The doctor stroked his beard, looking out the door without speaking.

“Let them treat it, let them treat it. There will always be a time when treatment fails,” he murmured.

A gust of night wind swept in, blowing a sheet of letter paper off the table.

The diligent clerk picked it up and glanced at the contents.

“…Let her treat it. The more she treats, the more mistakes she makes. Now that she is without power or influence, if trouble arises, let’s see what she can do…”

The clerk tried to read further, but the paper was snatched away. The doctor glared at him.

“Go close the door,” he ordered.

The clerk quickly complied, but as he closed the door, he glanced back. He saw the doctor holding the letter over the candle flame, and a burst of fire instantly consumed the paper.

The lanterns hanging before the Qianjintang Hall were lit. Unusually, the lanterns bore two characters: “Night Clinic.”

Just then, accompanied by the rush of the chaotic group, the wind stirred the lanterns into a sudden sway.

A series of heavy knocks shattered the silence outside the door.

Inside the room, Liu Pucheng lowered the book he was reading and stood up.

“Master, it’s an emergency…” the disciple’s cry came from outside the door.

Stepping out of his room, Liu Pucheng saw the hall brightly lit, with many people standing around. The disciple responsible for triage was conducting an initial examination.

“…Male, forty years old, already unconscious. Stab wounds to the head, face, and body. Moderate bleeding…” Zhang Tong looked up and reported.

Liu Pucheng nodded.

“Zhong Dan, prepare the examination bed,” he instructed, raising a gloved hand.