Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Meng Huaiqing’s medical skills were indeed formidable.

Every day, he administered acupuncture and personally brewed the medicine he brought to me.

I could clearly feel my body growing stronger, and the wounds on my face soon began to scab over.

Before I knew it, twelve days had passed.

In four more days, it would be the anniversary of my mother’s death.

…

After finishing dinner in the evening, I brought a bowl of ginseng soup to Yuan Heng.

Over the past few days, I had been going to the small kitchen every day to stew soup for him.

I did my best to relax, acting spoiled and charming as I kept him company for a long while.

Following his usual routine, he still had an hour of calligraphy practice ahead of him.

I naturally mentioned that it was time to change the dressing on my facial wounds and headed back to my room first.

Yuan Heng spoke very tenderly, saying he would come over later. He even reminded me to put on my cloak when going out so I wouldn’t catch a cold.

How hypocritical.

Only after leaving the study did I realize that my back was drenched in a cold sweat.

Cuinong supported me as we walked toward my small courtyard, whispering a reminder: “I’ve already sent someone to fetch Mr. Meng to perform your routine health check.”

“I understand.”

…

Returning to the courtyard, I saw a handsome, upright man standing by the entrance.

A cold wind blew, causing the lanterns under the eaves to sway, casting flickering shadows across his face.

He was staring blankly at the patches of light on the ground, but he turned his head when he heard us approaching.

Our eyes met, and Meng Huaiqing lowered his head.

“Madam.”

He stepped aside to make a path for me.

I nodded in greeting and slowly walked into the room.

“Have you been waiting long, Mr. Meng?”

Meng Huaiqing followed behind me. “I arrived just a moment ago.”

Once inside, Cuinong hurried to brew a cup of hot tea.

Meng Huaiqing thanked her, took a small sip, and then began to take my pulse.

“How is it?” I asked softly.

Meng Huaiqing pondered for a moment before smiling. “Everything is well. From now on, just take your pregnancy-stabilizing medicine on time; there’s no need for further acupuncture.”

Having said that, he began to clean the wounds on my face.

Yuan Heng had previously instructed that the maidservants were clumsy and lacked a sense of touch, so the injuries on my face were to be handled and treated by Meng Huaiqing personally.

Though we had known each other for several days, I had hardly spoken to this young Divine Physician.

But today, I wanted to talk.

I picked a random topic to start a conversation. “Mr. Meng, judging by your accent, are you from Chang’an?”

Meng Huaiqing kept his eyes fixed on his work. “I grew up in Liangzhou, but my father and grandfather lived in the Capital for many years, hence the Chang’an accent.”

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. “Seeing how superb your medical skills are, I imagine the elders of your family must have been Masters of the Apricot Grove who were famous throughout the Capital?”

“Madam overpraises me.”

Meng Huaiqing smiled, unable to hide the pride in his eyes. “When my grandfather was alive, he was once the head of the Imperial Medical Bureau…”

He seemed to realize he had misspoken, pursing his lips in chagrin before turning to reach for the ointment.

I asked casually, “Are you married, Mr. Meng?”

Meng Huaiqing applied the medicine to my face bit by bit, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

I tapped my finger lightly against my leg. “Then how long have you been in the Capital?”

Meng Huaiqing paused. “It has been over three years.”

“That long.”

My heart suddenly skipped a beat. Yuan Heng’s original wife, Song Yulan, had passed away exactly three years ago.