The heavy humidity following the June rain had vanished from Yongqing Prefecture, and the streets, momentarily cleared by the downpour, instantly flooded with people once more.

"Make way, make way!" a clamorous voice shouted, followed by a rush of figures tearing down the street, bearing a stretcher plank.

The apprentice standing bored outside the apothecary immediately straightened up. Business!

"Where is the Qianjintang?" the leader bellowed.

Someone in the crowd immediately pointed the way.

The throng swirled past the apothecary's apprentice in a chaotic rush.

The apprentice sighed, slapping at his clothes to rid them of imaginary dust, resuming his boredom. "We treat sprains and bruises here too," he mumbled languidly, turning back toward the empty, lifeless apothecary. He couldn't be bothered to go inside, yet he could hear voices emanating from the gloom, and what sounded suspiciously like a man weeping.

"...I have no objection to them poaching my business; a clinic is a business, after all. But for them to trample on me like this is unacceptable," said a gaunt man seated inside the room.

Four other men were scattered around him, their faces all etched with displeasure.

The speaker lifted his head; his expression was furious, his eyes bruised dark, his cheeks swollen and red—he had clearly taken a beating.

"...They claimed it was all my fault, saying that the wet nurse had her leg amputated—why? Why should I be blamed?" he spat out indignantly. The emotional surge pulled at his wounds, twisting half his face in pain, tears threatening to spill.

This was the doctor who had initially treated the wet nurse. Although Qi Yue had persuaded the wet nurse’s son not to blame this physician, the son ultimately could not swallow the insult and had brought men to settle scores with this doctor.

The doctor protested indignantly.

"That Madam Qi said it was because you didn't sterilize properly, causing my mother to contract an infection… tetanus… sepsis, or whatever," the wet nurse’s son scoffed.

"Nonsense, absolute nonsense! This is how we've always treated such injuries; why should she say it's wrong!" the doctor fumed.

"Why?" the wet nurse’s son challenged, hands on his hips. "Because she saved my mother's life! Do you disagree?"

"I disagree!" the thin doctor cried out, feeling wronged. "The course of illness is unpredictable. If it heals, it’s her fate; if it doesn't, it’s still her fate. Why bully people like this?"

The four men in the room sighed.

"Because she succeeded where you failed, Old Zhou. As doctors, sometimes it’s that brutally simple and heartless," one of the older men said. "Forget it. Don’t dwell on it. Patients' families cause trouble constantly. Who hasn't experienced it? Even the Qianjintang has been smashed up two or three times."

That was undeniably true.

The thin doctor lowered his head, silent.

"Exactly, Old Zhou. Don't blame the Qianjintang. They have the Magistrate and the Vice-Magistrate and many other high officials backing them. Blame your lack of powerful connections," another younger man remarked drily.

The thin doctor immediately looked up again, unconvinced.

"Enough," the older doctor snapped, his voice deep. "We practitioners rely on skill, not connections. No matter how powerful one's backing, no one will hand their life over to you to treat like a game."

The young man chuckled in agreement and fell silent.

The rain outside stopped, and after sharing a final cup of tea, the visitors dispersed.

The young man and the thin doctor walked in the same direction.

"Business has been quite poor lately," the younger one lamented.

"It’s all because of that… that new clinic across town," the thin doctor mumbled, head down.

Being a doctor was simple in practice, yet profoundly difficult. What determined whether a doctor could survive was nothing other than the common people's approval. If the populace recognized your skill, they would seek treatment, regardless of how famous your master was. If you lacked ability, you wouldn't succeed.

This was the merciless nature of the profession, yet it was also an earnest respect for life. The weight of a human life allowed for not a speck of superficiality or deceit.

"Where is the Qianjintang?" someone suddenly asked by the roadside, holding a piece of paper.

Again, a passerby eagerly directed them.

Watching this scene, a look of envy crossed both their faces.

"The Qianjintang's business is truly extraordinary," the younger man muttered. "A woman is proving more capable than all of us men." He chuckled softly, casually patting the thin doctor’s shoulder.

The thin man grunted. "There will be other days," he said.

The Qianjintang was indeed frantic. From morning till night, the line of people never broke. The wards, which Hu San had once thought were an extravagant waste of money, were packed. Eventually, Qi Yue had to be ruthless, limiting inpatient treatment only to those whose condition truly necessitated it.

"You mean handing these instructions over to other apothecaries?" Hu San stared at the medical notes Qi Yue had written, astonishment coloring his voice.

"Yes. This is how we prevent various infections, how we stop minor wounds from turning fatal," Qi Yue explained, examining the instructions and the formulation for the disinfection decoction she had just penned.

"How can that be, Master? These are the secret formulas of the Qianjintang!" Hu San exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Secret formula? What kind of secret formula is this? This should be common knowledge," Qi Yue laughed. "It’s just public health and epidemic prevention."

"What? Our methods are so powerful! Puji Hall over in the North City relies on one ointment for itching, and they guard that recipe like it’s worth more than a life! You—you want to give this away…" Hu San jumped up in agitation, promptly snatching the paper and clutching it to his chest. "Nobody is getting this from me without paying!"

Qi Yue was amused by his reaction.

"Hu San, if we don't disseminate this knowledge, incidents like the wet nurse’s will happen again. We can’t always be lucky enough to save them," she reasoned.

"That’s their problem, not ours," Hu San huffed. "If everyone chooses us, then the problem solves itself."

Qi Yue shook her head. "Hu San, we at the Qianjintang aim to be the best. But the 'best' isn't about standing alone in the clear; it should be about raising the tide for everyone," she stated.

Seeing Liu Pucheng nod in agreement, Hu San reluctantly conceded.

After dark, Qi Yue and A’ru emerged from the Qianjintang.

"I’m starving. I saw them making those huge steamed buns in the kitchen. Shall we eat before heading back?" Qi Yue suggested.

"Let’s not. Ah Hao made something delicious tonight," A’ru replied with a smile.

As they chatted and walked, they heard someone call out from behind them: "Yueliang."

That name—it felt like ages, ages, ages since she’d heard it.

Qi Yue froze, slow to react.

Until the voice called again, "Yue Niang."

Qi Yue stopped and turned. "Chang Yunqi?" she cried out in genuine surprise.

Under the glow of a street lamp stood a young man, impeccably dressed in fine silks and jade ornamentation, tall and still.

The smile on Chang Yunqi’s face held a touch of bitterness. He could no longer call her Yueliang.

"Yes," he said quickly, suppressing the bitterness, his smile returning.

"Third Young Master is a rare guest," A’ru commented dryly.

Ever since Qi Yue left the Marquis of Dingxi’s residence, Chang Chunlan and her sister had occasionally visited or sent gifts. But Chang Yunqi had vanished as if erased. Even when Qi Yue nearly died, and the Heir Apparent himself had traveled so far, he had not shown his face, acting as if Qi Yueliang were someone who simply did not exist in his world.

Chang Yunqi ignored A’ru’s sarcasm, maintaining his composure. "I passed the Academy Examinations," he announced. "I came to tell you. The meals you cooked for me were not wasted."

Qi Yue blinked, then smiled. What was the Academy Examination, anyway?

"Is that like the top scholar?" Qi Yue asked, surprised.

Chang Yunqi laughed. "No, it’s the Xiucai rank," he clarified.

Such effort just to become a Xiucai?

"But I can sit for the Provincial Examination next year," Chang Yunqi continued. "If things go according to plan, I should be able to bring you back the Zhuangyuan title the year after next."

Qi Yue finally understood. "Oh. That’s wonderful," she said warmly. "I'll wait for you to ride the great horse through the streets."

Chang Yunqi smiled.

"Scholar Zhuangyuan, our mistress hasn't eaten yet. Unlike idle people like you, we’ve been busy until now," A’ru cut in coldly.

"Yueliang. You still owe me a Beggar’s Chicken," Chang Yunqi reminded her.

Qi Yue paused. Did that happen? "Alright. Do you want it now?" she asked, waving a hand dismissively. "I’ll make one when I get back."

A’ru tugged sharply at her sleeve.

Chang Yunqi looked at her, smiled, and shook his head. "Wait until I become the Zhuangyuan," he promised.

A’ru snorted derisively. "Right. Before you come, you should have a good chat with your mother, lest you anger the old lady," she said.

Qi Yue shook her head at A’ru. Chang Yunqi didn't seem bothered.

"Yueliang, you must live well," he urged her.

Qi Yue nodded. "Of course, I will live well," she replied cheerfully.

Chang Yunqi nodded, smiling. "You live well. And wait until I get revenge for you."

Revenge? Qi Yue was momentarily stunned.

Chang Yunqi said no more. He smiled at her, turned, and walked away.

"Hey!" Qi Yue couldn't help but call out. "Don't do anything reckless!"

Chang Yunqi waved a hand back at her without turning around, striding away into the deepening night until he was gone.

Qi Yue stared blankly at the street. "What did he mean by revenge?" she murmured.

A’ru looked equally perplexed.

At the Marquis of Dingxi’s residence, Chang Yunqi passing the Xiucai examination brought no celebration; everything remained as usual—no, it was worse than usual. A strange, heavy gloom permeated the household atmosphere.

"Madam, the Butler asks if the Third Young Master’s celebration banquet should still proceed?" Mama Su inquired, entering the room.

Madam Xie’s face was ashen. She swept the stack of invitation cards off the table with a noisy rustle. "Proceed with what? Passing the Xiucai exam is hardly cause for a celebration. Wait until he receives an official decree from the Emperor," she snapped irritably. "He sits at home reading without risking life or limb. How can that compare to Yuncheng? Whatever the matter, it depends on the Marquis’s mood. It’s just studying; it costs nothing. Why should he be so pleased with himself?"

Mama Su remained silent, letting her vent.

"Honestly, what sort of families are sending their daughters’ details to me? What status do they think our Yuncheng holds? They should have some shame!" Madam Xie slammed the table, knocking several more piles of cards onto the floor.

Mama Su stepped forward to collect them. Peering at the cards—which contained birth details and miniature portraits of various young ladies—she observed that some of these families were respectable, but none could compare to the Rao family of Shandong… Madam Xie demanded a family background no lower than the Raws of Shandong, which, while perhaps feasible nationwide, was difficult to find in Yongqing Prefecture and its surroundings. Madam Xie had been excessively stressed about this requirement lately.

"Madam, Madam, bad news!" A young maid burst in from the doorway.

"I'm not dead yet, why are you wailing like that!" Madam Xie roared angrily.

The maid knelt instantly, her face pale, pointing a trembling finger toward the outside. "Madam, Madam, Concubine Zhou has returned."

What?

Madam Xie shot up from her seat.

Outside the main gate, a small blue cart had stopped. A kindly old female attendant lifted the curtain, extended a hand, and then a woman emerged. Though middle-aged and slightly plump, her inherent allure was undeniable. She wore the plainest, even slightly faded, modest clothes, her hair simply pinned up, and a veiled hat obscured her face.

"Ayi, the carriage from the second gate is here," the attendant murmured.

"No need. I’ll walk a little," Concubine Zhou said softly, lifting the veil slightly. Though it had been long since they last met, her face appeared thinner, lending her an even greater delicate beauty. She gazed up at the towering manor gate, a faint smile touching her lips. "It’s been a long time since I walked the path of my home."

Recommend The Fierce Beauty author Mu Shuiyou’s new novel The Noble Lady. There is a direct link on the page; it’s already over half a million characters—plenty to binge-read! Also: Three updates today, please vote! #x30fb; No pop-up novel site www.RT