Chapter Thirteen: Healing

“Alright, alright, take it off...” Mr. Li instinctively responded, only to be sharply tapped by Mrs. Li. “Have you lost your mind? Take off what? She’s still a young lady.”

There was a clear distinction between men and women, and they had to consider their reputation.

“Take it off. When it comes to practicing medicine and healing, these things don’t matter,” Shen Runzhi interjected calmly, his fingers continuously fiddling with the jade pendant, appearing composed and unruffled.

Song Qingcheng was still pondering how to convince them, but hearing Shen Runzhi’s words, she looked upon him with newfound respect, never expecting such a statement from his lips.

“Yes, as a healer, I don’t consider these distinctions. Besides, I’m the only one here skilled in acupuncture. Without removing the clothes, I won’t be able to dispel the poison,” Song Qingcheng explained.

During her time practicing medicine alongside Grandfather Yao Gu, she had often been taught that in healing, gender was irrelevant. To a healer, there were no men or women—only patients.

The one lying on the bed was her son. Mr. Li hesitated briefly, then nodded in decision. “Miss Song, rest assured, this matter will not be spread, nor will your reputation be sullied in the slightest.”

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Li considered responsibility in terms of marriage; both understood that this young lady before them was beyond their son’s reach.

Mr. Li handed the prescription to Li Feixue. “Xue’er, go prepare the medicine and bring it shortly.” Li Feixue was trusted to brew all of Li Zhun’s remedies, so Mr. Li felt assured entrusting her with this task.

Li Feixue quickly ran out. To avoid any accidents, Mr. Li dismissed all the servants outside and replaced them with Shen Runzhi’s men to guard the place, preventing gossip from leaking.

Mr. Li removed the clothing himself, leaving only Song Qingcheng and Shen Runzhi in the room. Song Qingcheng inserted needles according to the acupuncture points, feeling nothing but the solemn duty to save a life.

Once the last needle was placed, Song Qingcheng stretched her aching shoulders. It had been a while since she had maintained such continuous needlework, and it felt somewhat uncomfortable.

She moved a little, and a hand pressed gently on her shoulder—just the right amount of pressure—rubbing a few times to ease the fatigue. Song Qingcheng forced a faint smile, standing straight with her hands resting by her sides.

Feeling the soreness fade, she bent slightly to avoid him. “Thank you, cousin. My shoulder feels much better now.”

Shen Runzhi’s bright eyes flashed with displeasure. She always thanked him so politely. “It’s nothing; it’s still the youngest who’s more tired,” he said, sitting back with a hint of jealousy.

Song Qingcheng, preoccupied with keeping track of time, didn’t notice and casually replied, “It’s alright, it’s what healers should do.”

Shen Runzhi glanced at her, sighed, and rubbed the jade pendant in his hand until it almost gleamed. He was a little ungrateful, indeed.

Unaware of the person beside her who was nearly simmering with frustration, Song Qingcheng took out a small notebook to jot down notes. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Miss Song, the medicine is here.”

The door cracked open slightly. She took the medicine and closed the door again, pulled out the feeding tools from the medicine box, when a slender, bony hand snatched them away. Shen Runzhi avoided her eyes. “I’ll do it.”

Just as Song Qingcheng had other matters to attend to, she handed over the medicine and resumed noting down his reactions.

Every time she encountered rare illnesses or poisons, Song Qingcheng would record them carefully as references for the future.

After drinking the medicine, Li Zhun began to tremble. Just as the shaking was about to intensify, he suddenly quieted down. The silver needles on his body restrained him from turning over.

After waiting silently for a moment, Song Qingcheng observed his face regaining its natural color and began removing the needles. Once all were taken out, she opened the door to meet Mrs. Li’s eager gaze.

“Miss Song, how is he?”

“The poison has been neutralized. Now he just needs to rest well. Brew another bowl of the same medicine and feed it to him; he should wake up soon,” Song Qingcheng replied simply, stepping aside to let them in.

Sitting at the stone table outside, she caught Shen Runzhi’s eyes from inside the room, filled with a faint, plaintive grievance.

Song Qingcheng immediately felt guilty and turned her head away. Damn it, why did she feel this way? She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she...?

Probably not. She wasn’t entirely sure herself; she had stepped out instinctively at the time, leaving him behind.

Facing Shen Runzhi’s gaze, Song Qingcheng pulled out some snacks from her pouch. “Cousin, want to try some?”

When she went out, she had prepared some snacks in advance, but the sudden emergency had prevented her from eating. Now, finally, she could have a bite.

Shen Runzhi stared at her and sighed deeply, popping a piece into his mouth. “Next time, remember you have your cousin in mind.”

So that was the reason. Song Qingcheng smiled. “Always have. I have you and Uncle and Auntie—you all hold a permanent place in my heart.”

The snack in Shen Runzhi’s mouth tasted increasingly sour. “These snacks are weirdly sour.”

Suddenly changing tone, Song Qingcheng was puzzled. “Not really, they’re sweet. Did I buy the wrong ones?” She popped one into her own mouth.

Hmm, they were sweet.

“I taste sour,” Shen Runzhi said, pinching another piece from her hand and chewing it.

Maybe his taste buds were malfunctioning. Song Qingcheng glanced at Shen Runzhi, considering whether to give him a few acupuncture treatments.

“Cousin, your sense of taste is off. Let me give you a few needles to fix it,” she said earnestly, pulling out her silver needles.

Shen Runzhi’s mouth puckered even more. He looked at Song Qingcheng as if wanting to say something, then abruptly left with a grumble, “I’ll go check on the carriage.”

Song Qingcheng scratched her head in innocence, wondering why he was upset again and refusing help despite her efforts.

“Miss Song, the medicine is ready. Should I feed it directly?” Li Feixue asked cautiously, holding the steaming concoction.

Putting Shen Runzhi’s apparent anger aside, Song Qingcheng stood and accompanied her inside. Mr. Li was helping Li Zhun dress, holding his hand and speaking with tears in his eyes.

When they saw Song Qingcheng and the others enter, they wiped away their tears and took a step back to make room for Li Feixue to feed the medicine.

Li Feixue skillfully administered the medicine into Li Zhun’s mouth. Once he swallowed it all, they only needed to wait quietly.

Minutes later, weak coughing came from the bed. Li Zhun slowly opened his eyes. “Father... Xue’er...”

Mr. Li quickly exclaimed twice, almost tripping over himself in his haste as he stumbled out to call Mrs. Li. “Huirou, come quickly! Zhun’er has woken up!”

Mrs. Li, overwhelmed with grief, dared not look and waited in the corner for the outcome. Hearing Mr. Li’s voice, she hurried over and stepped inside to see their son awake.

She was too emotional to speak and suddenly knelt before Song Qingcheng. “Thank you, Miss Song, for saving my son’s life.”

“No, no, it’s nothing. I don’t deserve such thanks. Please get up.”

Song Qingcheng tried to help her up, but Mrs. Li was pushed back. Then, with a thud, both Mr. Li and Li Feixue also knelt down.

“Miss Song, this matter may be small to you, but to our family, it is of utmost importance. You saved Zhun’er. This gratitude is yours to receive.”

Li Zhun, despite his weakness, insisted on kneeling too. Song Qingcheng felt overwhelmed. “You just recovered—don’t move. Please, don’t move.”

Unable to support him, she wished she had eight hands. “Please get up, all of you, get up.”

After much coaxing, they finally rose. Li Feixue went to fetch snowflake grass. Song Qingcheng looked at the man on the bed and approached to inquire about the objects hanging by the doorway.