Volume One, Chapter 13: The Ungrateful Betrayer

In recent days, Lin Chuyao had been going out intermittently. She returned with a calm expression each time but would lock herself in her room, rarely speaking with anyone.

Though her door was closed, faint sounds of pages turning and writing at her desk could always be heard.

Liu Xishuang noticed this and felt increasingly uneasy. One afternoon, she summoned Qing Xing and Xiao Tan to the hall.

Sunlight filtered through the carved window lattices, casting mottled shadows. Liu Xishuang lifted her teacup, took a gentle sip, then set it down. Her gaze rested on the two standing nearby. Her tone was gentle, yet carried a probing edge that could not be ignored.

“Your young mistress seems to have been quite at leisure lately, wandering out so often. Where has she been going?” she asked.

Qing Xing and Xiao Tan exchanged a glance, clearly uneasy, quickly bowing their heads to mask their emotions.

“Madam, the young mistress has only been going out to clear her mind,” Qing Xing replied softly.

Liu Xishuang smiled slightly, slowly caressing the teacup, her eyes scanning their faces with measured calm. “Clear her mind? With her temperament, when has she ever liked to roam about? You’ve followed her for so long—surely you know such small matters, don’t you?”

Qing Xing fiddled nervously with a corner of her garment, as if weighing her words, before whispering, “Madam, the young mistress often visits Qingfeng Hall recently… perhaps for treatment or to collect medicine.”

“Qingfeng Hall?” Liu Xishuang was momentarily taken aback. A vivid image surfaced in her mind of Lin Chuyao sending medicine bottles to Lin Yize the day before, stirring a wave of emotion within her.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she pondered, then murmured, “At least she cares enough to keep Lin Yize’s illness in mind. But sending medicine secretly like this—if anything goes wrong, can she bear the consequences?”

Her voice faltered, half to herself, half testing. “I’ve heard a new doctor has arrived at Qingfeng Hall. Perhaps it would be better to bring Yize there directly for diagnosis, to avoid any mishaps.”

After speaking, she waved her hand to dismiss the two, her eyes reflecting deeper thought and calculation.

Inside Qingfeng Hall, the air was thick with fragrant herbs. At the consultation table, Lin Chuyao busied herself as usual, clad in plain coarse cloth, her face concealed behind a veil and curtain. Only a pair of calm, focused eyes were visible.

Compared to her usual demeanor, she deliberately lowered her voice, moving with utmost discretion.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed outside as Liu Xishuang slowly helped Lin Yize inside. His complexion was pale, sweat dotted his forehead, and exhaustion weighed heavily in his eyes.

He coughed weakly, his voice hoarse, clearly struggling to even stand. Liu Xishuang steadied him with one hand, clutching his cloak with the other, fearing he might collapse.

“Yize, hold on, the doctor will see you soon,” she said gently, though a trace of worry tinged her tone. She looked down at Lin Yize, her eyes brimming with concern and tenderness.

Lin Yize frowned, pressing a shaky hand to his chest as he coughed again, weakly saying, “Mother, I’ve been ill for so many years. If it could have healed, it would have by now. No need to trouble everyone so much.”

Liu Xishuang shot him a sharp look, reproach clear in her voice. “Trouble? I would move heaven and earth to save you!”

Lin Yize said no more, but his face bore silent struggle and pain. He glanced around briefly, then lowered his eyes as his cough intensified.

“Madam, this way please,” a servant respectfully ushered them to Lin Chuyao’s consultation table.

Liu Xishuang helped Lin Yize sit, her gaze full of pity as she softly reassured him, “Yize, be good. This doctor is highly skilled. You must cooperate.”

Lin Yize settled down with Liu Xishuang’s support, leaning slightly forward, one hand bracing his knee, the other pressed weakly to his chest. His breath was shallow and rapid, each inhalation seeming to carry pain.

Lin Chuyao approached, gently placing her hand over his wrist. Her fingertips rested on his pulse for a moment, her brow gradually knitting in concern.

“The young master’s body has long harbored cold stagnation. His lungs are severely damaged, the spleen and stomach weakened, and his qi and blood are difficult to harmonize.”

Her tone was calm, but the weight of her words sent a chill through Liu Xishuang. “Moreover, prolonged reliance on tonic medicines has damaged his meridians. Without urgent treatment, I fear he will not survive this winter.”

Liu Xishuang’s face paled, her voice trembling slightly. “How could this be? Previous doctors never said it was this serious!”

Silently, she repeated, “The master said that once Lin Chuyao returned, there would be a turning point. How did it come to this?”

Lin Yize’s expression shifted, a flicker of unhidden doubt in his eyes. He looked up at Lin Chuyao, voice hoarse. “That serious?”

He clenched his hand briefly, then averted his gaze, feigning indifference. “Probably just scare tactics. Heard it all before—who believes it?”

Though he spoke thus, his eyes subtly searched Lin Chuyao’s, curious and hesitant, as if hoping for a different answer.

Lin Chuyao lowered her gaze, voice steady. “It’s understandable to have doubts, young master, but your condition is indeed urgent. Delay any longer and it will be beyond cure.”

Lin Yize’s tight grip loosened, his eyes drifting, yet his lips remained stubborn. “If it can’t be cured, then so be it. It’s no big deal.”

Liu Xishuang’s heart ached; she quickly caressed his hand to comfort him. “Don’t say that, Yize! The doctor says it can be treated, so it will be! I won’t let anything happen to you!”

Suddenly, Lin Yize withdrew a small medicine bottle from his sleeve and casually placed it on the table, his voice tired and indifferent. “If you say it’s so serious, then look at this pill. Maybe I’ve been taking the wrong medicine all along.”

Lin Chuyao’s eyes flickered with a complex emotion as she looked at the bottle.

She recognized the pills as her own handiwork. In the end, her heart softened and she had the servant deliver them to Lin Yize, never expecting he would question her intentions so.

She reached out, frowning slightly, her tone growing colder. “These pills are painstakingly crafted, made from dozens of carefully selected herbs, boiled five times, taking many days to complete.”

Liu Xishuang quickly asked, “Doctor, will these pills help Yize?”

Lin Chuyao responded coldly, “If taken on time, they will certainly be effective. But the young master’s doubts are truly disheartening.”

Lin Yize’s face stiffened; he coughed twice to hide his unease. He instinctively turned away, stubbornly saying, “They’re just medicines. Must it be made to sound so mystical?”

Lin Chuyao’s gaze grew colder, a suppressed anger evident in her tone. “These pills are made with great care, yet the young master treats them so lightly. It’s disappointing. If you don’t trust them, then hand them over to me. Better than wasting them in your hands.”

Lin Yize was shaken, glancing down at the bottle. His fingers tightened unconsciously, guilt flickering across his face.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but pride held him back. He stubbornly said, “They were given to me by someone else, so naturally I must handle them myself.”

He coughed softly, his eyes quietly fixed on Lin Chuyao’s medicine bottle, revealing a trace of wavering and regret.

Liu Xishuang quickly interjected to ease the tension, taking Lin Chuyao’s hand gently. “Doctor, please don’t take offense. My son is stubborn and blunt, but he trusts you in his heart.”

Lin Chuyao’s gaze shifted from the bottle to Liu Xishuang, her voice softening somewhat. “If Madam follows my new prescription and supplements it with acupuncture, the young master’s condition will improve. But if he refuses to cooperate, even divine intervention will fail.”

Liu Xishuang thanked her repeatedly, helping Lin Yize to his feet as they left. Lin Yize hung his head in silence, eyes clouded with complex emotions.

At the door, he glanced back at Lin Chuyao’s retreating figure. He opened his mouth, but in the end, said nothing.

Lin Chuyao stood quietly by the consultation table, watching their figures vanish, murmuring softly, “To think he would doubt my medicine… five years of effort wasted.”