chapter 3

In the days that followed, relentless coaxing finally persuaded Ji Hanshuang to accept my treatment.

Every day, I applied a specially prepared medicinal liquid to her eyes. Made from many rare herbs ground and blended together, it carried a clean, faintly bitter scent of growing things.

I dipped a jade slip into the medicine and carefully spread it over her eyelids.

“It will feel cool, but it won’t hurt.”

“I’ll be gentle. All right?”

“…Fine.” Her lips pursed and her ribbon-covered face tilted slightly upward, tacitly granting permission.

Next came the daily acupuncture treatment, meant to clear the spiritual meridians obstructed by the backlash.

The first time a long, gleaming golden needle appeared in my hand, its sharp aura made her entire body tense despite her blindness.

Silent resistance filled the room.

Tentatively, she said, “I keep feeling that needle is longer than my sword.”

I patiently corrected her. “Don’t worry. It isn’t.”

“Trust me. My hand won’t slip.”

That made her laugh.

“You’re that confident?”

Even so, her rigid shoulders visibly relaxed.

I found it rather novel.

“My other patients take one look at this needle, declare themselves cured, and run. You’re so brave…”

She said nothing, only hummed smugly under her breath.

When the needle truly entered an acupoint, bringing a faint, aching pressure, she couldn’t stop a muffled sound from escaping.

To distract her, I talked while inserting the needles.

At first, I simply described the weather outside. Later, I told amusing stories from my travels as a physician or shared fresh gossip about the cultivation world’s many sects.

Most of the time, she listened quietly. Whenever I paused, she gave a soft “mm-hm” to show she was still awake.

Her little hums were adorable, like a kitten’s.

So we maintained an unspoken and distinctly strange harmony.

Whenever boredom set in between treatments, she found new ways to torment her “captor.” One day she wanted to sample the west-side restaurant’s newly released jade nectar wine. The next she craved the signature poria cakes from a shop on East Street.

I bought everything with my own money.

My purse grew thinner by the day.

Feeling its growing emptiness, I silently mourned my departed silver.

Ji Hanshuang merely told me that if I was poor, I shouldn’t imitate other people and take prisoners.

I sighed in sorrow.

Sometimes she even demanded that I take her outside.

“It’s stifling in here.” Half reclining against the headboard, she raised one imperious brow. “You. Take me for a walk.”

Hmph.

What sort of captor took her prisoner sightseeing?

…Apparently, this one did.

As a physician, I believed mental health mattered too. Being cooped up all the time couldn’t be good. Besides, she had rarely left her cave residence even before this, preferring to sleep in every day. She should use this opportunity to get outside and breathe fresh air.

So I tried to take her out daily.

Before leaving, I wrapped several additional layers of silk ribbon around her eyes and tied them securely. Again and again, I warned her not to remove it; her recovering eyes couldn’t withstand strong light.

She nodded absently, then lifted one hand and jingled the matching bracelets suppressing her spiritual power.

The bracelets struck each other with a muted chime.

The sound seemed to give her an amusing thought, and she laughed.

“With only these, you truly aren’t afraid I’ll run?”

“Don’t you have any… other methods?”

I looked troubled.

“No.”

She clicked her tongue and asked, “Then what are you going to do?”

There was only one honest answer.

“I’ll have to… beg you not to run.”

It sounded pathetic, but sincerity was the ultimate weapon.

With her free hand, she traced the patterns carved into one bracelet. When I finished, her lips curved and her eyes narrowed beneath the ribbon, her tone carelessly mocking.

“Very well.”

“Then you had better… beg me some more.”

That day, I took her to a nearby market.

We walked side by side as she held up a stick of candied hawthorn, the bright red fruit gleaming beneath translucent sugar.

I asked if it was sweet.

She offered me the last hawthorn and tapped my lips twice with its cool sugar shell.

“Sweet. Try it.”

The moment I bit down, my face crumpled.

“Liar. It’s sour.”

She drew it back and laughed in triumph.

“Mm-hm. I lied to you.”

She handed me the empty skewer, clasped both hands behind her, and skipped toward a wonton stall whose savory aroma drifted across the road. The gauze of her veiled hat swayed with every step.

I hurried after her.

We sat opposite each other. I was about to order from the busy husband-and-wife vendors when they suddenly cried out in delight.

“Physician Ji!”

My heart jumped. I glanced instinctively toward Ji Hanshuang, who sat across from me beneath her veiled hat.

The gauze stirred. A very faint laugh seemed to slip through it.

I silently thanked my past self for giving those vendors a false surname when I treated them. Otherwise, my identity would have been exposed on the spot.

With a quiet sigh of relief, I rose, smiled, and drew the couple a little farther away to exchange pleasantries.

I left Ji Hanshuang alone at the stall, idly playing with the twin bracelets on her wrists.

One flick of her finger, and the supposedly restrictive bracelets slid smoothly into her palm.

She sneered.

She had thought Physician Liu was smarter than those other idiots. Apparently, beneath the surface, this one was foolish too.

The next time she commissioned a spiritual artifact, she really ought to ask the refiner the right questions. A bracelet suppressing the wearer’s power was one thing. A bracelet the wearer could remove at will was another.

Fool.

If she truly ran away, her little physician would probably cry her eyes out.

Out of the goodness of her heart, Ji Hanshuang decided that next time she should order “Physician Ji” a pair that couldn’t be removed.

She was tossing the bracelets in boredom when her spiritual sense caught a familiar presence.

“Oh? Someone from Qingyun Sect is nearby…”

How troublesome.

Clicking her tongue, she deftly slipped the bracelets back on, rose, and brushed nonexistent dust from her clothes. Then she followed the voices to the physician chatting with her former patients.

She strode over and tapped my shoulder. Bending slightly, she rested her head on it.

“All right. Let’s go home, ‘Physician Ji.’”

Confused by the interruption, I asked, “Hm? You don’t want to stay longer?”

“Weren’t you just insisting we shop all evening and buy a few pretty outfits?”

She made a vague humming sound.

“Not anymore. I’m tired.”

“We’ll have plenty of time later.”

“But not today.”

“There are too many people today. I might get lost.”

I didn’t understand, but I obeyed. After bidding the vendors farewell, I took her home.