The steaming-hot large basin was brought over, and the aroma of meat immediately filled the air. "Please, please," the general urged warmly. The officers seated around the large table, formed by pushing four smaller tables together, gazed eagerly at the meat, but none dared to make the first move. Chang Yuncheng, seated in the center, smiled and reached out to pick up a piece of meat. "You all have worked hard!" he announced loudly. "General, you have worked hard," they responded in unison. Then, in a rush, everyone reached out, grabbed the meat, and began to devour it. Although the first month of the new year had passed, the entire Northern Desert region remained locked in severe cold. With the hot meat warming their stomachs, the assembled generals immediately began to sweat. "It's a shame there's no wine," someone chuckled. Drinking was forbidden while campaigning or fighting on the march. "Ah, I saw a whole cartload of wine going past when I came in..." someone couldn't help but mention. They had imagined it was a special reward from the commander-in-chief for them. Yet, on the table now, besides the meat and soup, there was only plain water; not even a single wine cup was in sight. "That's for the military physicians," the soldier serving the food quickly explained upon overhearing. Military physicians! The eyes of the generals present instantly lit up. The commander-in-chief, General Chang Yuncheng, overseeing the battles in the Northern Desert this time, had brought not only an additional four thousand troops but also a miraculous contingent of military doctors. These physicians numbered only about twenty, yet their effectiveness rivaled that of a hundred medical staff within their own armies. The main purpose of their gathering now, besides reporting on the recent combat, was to borrow personnel—specifically, these military doctors. Sure enough, someone, without even pausing the meat they were chewing, hastily began to speak. "...Sir, my unit suffered heavy casualties. With only a meager ten physicians, we simply cannot manage the care required..." this officer pleaded. No sooner had he finished than more voices clamored, rushing to list their own grievances. The room became even more animated than when the meat arrived. Chang Yuncheng merely smiled faintly, slowly sipping his meat broth. What was that woman doing right now?

Qi Yue set down the cotton wadding she was holding. A'ru smoothly took it from her, and Qi Yue turned to face Zhou Maochun, who followed her every step. "Father, there truly are no secrets," she said helplessly. "Then how did you achieve it?" Zhou Maochun countered. These past few days, it seemed Zhou Maochun could utter little else. Qiao Minghua, standing nearby, also watched Qi Yue with intense, penetrating eyes. Qi Yue quickly glanced at the injured soldier being treated. This was a severe bone injury case resulting from a fall off the city wall. "Schedule him for a secondary operation," Qi Yue commanded. A nearby disciple quickly acknowledged and made a note. "Did you all not see it? It's just what we usually do," Qi Yue finally resumed addressing Zhou Maochun. "Just the bandaging, the applying of medicine?" Zhou Maochun inquired. He was certainly aware of what Qi Yue and her disciples had been learning in Weicheng; to him, those skills seemed utterly commonplace, or perhaps not even skills at all. "Just those little theatrical performances by Madam Qi?" Qiao Minghua also asked. "Exercises," Qi Yue corrected firmly. She spoke while constantly moving, inspecting the wounded soldiers one by one. "Yes, those skills look simple, but battlefield injuries are also simple," she continued. "Cuts, thrusts, arrows, axes—injuries to flesh and bone." "Madam Qi, that is not the crux of it," Qiao Minghua interjected. Qi Yue looked at him. "Your medicines," Qiao Minghua said, his gaze fervent. "What medicine are you using?" He pointed toward the injured men. "Why are they not screaming or thrashing during treatment?" "Why are the wounds under your bandages not festering with high fever?" "Why can the wounds you dress stop bleeding almost immediately?" What he had witnessed over these past few days astonished him beyond measure, utterly contradicting everything he had previously known. The biggest difference was the absence of those horrific scenes. The pain these wounded men endured during treatment could not possibly be less than the pain of being injured. Yet here, even when that woman cut flesh or opened a chest, there was no wailing. "That's right! Didn't they say your army doctors treat illnesses just like butchering oxen or pigs?" Zhou Maochun recalled, hurriedly asking. Qi Yue stopped and looked at Qiao Minghua, smiling. "Excellent. It seems Doctor Qiao has been observing closely these past few days," she said, her smile warm. Qiao Minghua was momentarily stunned.

Qiao Minghua left the wounded soldiers' barracks, and the other military doctors immediately surrounded him. "How was it?" "Did she say how she did it?" "Is she going to tell us?" These past few days, Qi Yue and her disciples had been tirelessly busy. She seemed to entirely overlook Qiao Minghua and the other doctors—not actively avoiding them, but never initiating contact, much less offering instruction or explanation—leaving the physicians profoundly awkward. "If she won't teach, she won't teach. We couldn't learn what they do anyway." "Exactly. Look at the things they use; what they use in a single day equals our consumption over half a year." "All that wine... all those jars and pots used up in the blink of an eye..." "And the cotton! Heavens, even wealthy households wouldn't dare use it this lavishly..." "...Just treating one light casualty costs a shocking amount of money..." "If our superiors ensure our rations and pay are complete, we should be grateful. Who can afford these materials?" "...And they sprinkle those decoctions in the streets and rooms every day—that's all money..." They muttered amongst themselves, their feelings an indescribable mix. Qiao Minghua seemed not to hear, brushing past the group and walking away.

Night gradually descended. This street had been converted into a triage area. Plaques hung on the doors, and lanterns cast a dim glow. The air carried a scent distinct from the surroundings—a sharp medicinal odor, yet lacking the familiar stench of blood and decay. A contingent of laborers pushed past, moving carts laden with large wooden barrels. Two men used large ladles to scoop the liquid and scatter it along the street. Qiao Minghua stepped aside to avoid the spray, but some liquid splashed onto him. This was the source of that pungent medicinal smell. He watched the cart slowly move away. Two or three men in white robes walked toward him from the opposite direction. "...Is it your night shift?" "...Yeah, there's a high-fever patient. Tonight needs careful watching..." They conversed as they passed Qiao Minghua. The rooms were lit, casting a dim, flickering light. Shadows danced on the window lattices, showing figures ranging from lightly wounded to gravely injured, the number slowly thinning. Qiao Minghua walked a short distance before stopping before a window marked 'Serious Injury.' Although the air was cold, the window was slightly ajar, offering a glimpse inside at the makeshift beds where the wounded lay. A man in a white robe held a lamp close to one patient, studying the sleeping face with a furrowed brow, his expression focused. Soon, he stood up and moved to the next. Aside from occasional, soft groans, there was no other sound. Qiao Minghua had reached the street corner; he looked back one last time. Tranquility. Calmness. This word would never have been associated with a field hospital before. It must be because there is hope, that such peace and composure reign here. He turned and strode away.

"Are you deliberately not teaching them?" A'ru inquired. They were also leaving the makeshift hospital now. Qi Yue turned to look at her. "Am I that sort of person?" she replied, feigning hurt. A'ru couldn't help but laugh. "A'ru, this matter is not simple," Qi Yue said, stepping forward. "We consolidated all our human, material, and financial resources to achieve the results we have today." A'ru nodded, keeping pace with her. "Not everyone can accomplish this," Qi Yue stated. "Nor can I configure every army doctor's team to match my setup." A'ru fell silent, letting out a soft sigh. If the expenses incurred during these days were tallied, it would likely shock many people. "What we are doing is simple in one sense—there are few difficult techniques involved; this immediate work, for them, is something they could learn instantly. But it is also profoundly difficult, because it is not something one can possess simply by wishing for it," Qi Yue continued, looking down the street ahead. "That is why I don't explain or teach; there is nothing to clarify. I have exerted every effort to show them a hope. That is what I can do, and it is the most meaningful thing." And the most precious. A'ru smiled at her. Is there anything in this world more precious than hope? It is like being trapped in darkness, yet always seeing a lamp ahead, guiding, warming, and calling out. Qi Yue quickened her pace. A'ru paused briefly, then noticed the man standing by the roadside. She smiled faintly and slowed her steps.

Chang Yuncheng watched the woman quicken her steps toward him, and the smile on his lips spread uncontrollably. He extended his hand. Qi Yue placed her hand into his large one. "Supper?" he asked. Qi Yue swung their joined hands as they started walking. "Alright. What good food did you find?" she asked, laughing. "Nothing much. Didn't you say that eating chaff and greens alongside me is a feast fit for kings?" Chang Yuncheng chuckled. "So, I prepared some chaff and greens." Qi Yue laughed heartily and playfully hit him with her free hand. Their laughter carried through the chilly night, while the scattered stars above shone down on the two figures walking side by side.

As dawn began to break, scattered stars still dotted the sky. The winter chill left the entire capital city shrouded as if in a white veil. The sound of hurried footsteps emerging from the palace gates shattered the morning mist. Watching the officials stream out, their faces grim, Dong Lin instinctively tightened his outer garment as he passed the palace entrance. "It seems the situation at the front is not good," he murmured, simultaneously offering a cup of hot tea to the man in official robes who was deeply engrossed in reading a medical text. "Lord Cai, please try this tea." This man was currently the chief physician of the Imperial Medical Academy, a fifth-rank Medical Director. He hummed noncommittally, put down the book, accepted the tea, and took a slow sip, nodding in approval. "Indeed. Urgent reports arrived overnight; the Eastern Nomads have invaded with fifty thousand men. Three passes have already fallen, and Gansu, Ningxia, and Xuanda have suffered terrible losses. Although I haven't seen it firsthand, the dispatches from the front suggest the borderlands are still steeped in misery and death," he sighed, his expression worried. Dong Lin echoed the sigh. "His Majesty must be furious?" he inquired. Lord Cai glanced at him, clearly annoyed by such a facile question. "Sir, I have a matter for which I must confess my guilt." Dong Lin suddenly stated, producing a document from his sleeve and handing it over as he spoke. Lord Cai frowned. "You've boasted again and caused another death?" he said flatly, reaching for the document. "It's a good thing your master died early, or he would have been angered to death by you..." Dong Lin pretended not to hear. Lord Cai glanced casually at the document, his expression shifting dramatically, and he suddenly sat bolt upright. "What? Are you certain of this news?" he demanded. "This is no laughing matter!" "Sir, because Lord Zhou was present, no one along the route reported it officially. This news was risked and delivered by a former subordinate of mine," Dong Lin quickly explained. Lord Cai leaned back against his chair, his face an unreadable mask as he gripped the document. Dong Lin knew what Lord Cai feared. "Sir, what Lord Zhou has done this time is utterly preposterous. While other matters might be overlooked by His Majesty, this concerns military and political affairs, a crucial border stronghold. As the Medical Judge, not only did he fail to restrain it, but he condoned it—this truly chills His Majesty's heart..." he spoke in a low voice. Indeed, His Majesty's temperament was unpredictable, but one thing was certain: authority must never be challenged, especially concerning vital military and political matters. Zhou Maochun, despite his absurd conduct, had always been astute, confining himself strictly to medical issues and never touching statecraft. That was why His Majesty had indulged him so much. Who would have thought he would go this far this time... Lord Cai gripped the document tightly. He was merely a Medical Judge, yet he held more sway than Lord Cai, the Medical Director, leading everyone to know only the Judge and not the Director. This old man had lived too long... He felt he wouldn't outlive him. Now, the opportunity had finally arrived! "This is utterly absurd!" Lord Cai slammed the document onto the desk. "Dong Lin, what is going on with your master's faction! Immediately submit a petition of apology to His Majesty!" Dong Lin bowed deeply, his expression contrite and fearful. "Your subordinate is guilty! Ten thousand deaths cannot absolve me!" he said, his voice trembling. Unpardonable in ten thousand deaths! To be caught at a time when the border suffered catastrophic losses and His Majesty was enraged! You people have stirred up immense trouble this time! Dong Lin could barely contain his inner delight. Apologies, it was my elder relative's birthday, so I didn't have time to write at noon. There will only be one update tonight. RS