Seeing Bian Daiyun—always proud, like a peacock in Bai Lan’s memory—now tearful, Bai Lan wiped his own eyes. He had expected Bian Daiyun to scold the man for madness. Yet, after a choking pause, Bian Daiyun asked, “Where can we go?”
“The world is vast; there must be a place for the two of us,” the man said.
Bian Daiyun’s eyes were red, but he did not reply.
“Now, your family hasn’t fixed a marriage for you yet. We can still leave. Once a match is set, leaving will be difficult.”
“I… I’ll go with you.”
Bai Lan: “…”
He quietly turned back toward the street, pretending not to have seen the pair at the lake.
Bai Lan had long thought his own mind somewhat muddled, always throwing himself after Ning Muyan like a moth to a flame. Yet now, seeing Bian Daiyun, he felt comparatively reasonable.
Eloping was a grave matter. Ordinary children running off without matchmakers or permission would be scorned. Anywhere they went, outsiders would suspect a young man and woman living together without family, especially as strangers in a new city.
Moreover, Bian Daiyun was the son of a prominent official, his family rising in influence. The man with him also appeared refined, clearly not from a poor family.
Both came from official households. Even without considering their families’ potential search for them, they would need means to survive independently.
Truly, it was hard to guess the man’s intentions. In any case, it had little to do with Bai Lan.
Still, he pinched his chin, pondering whether Bian Daiyun’s past romance was from a previous life. If so… he’d married into the Ning family!
It seemed Bai Lan had uncovered a small thread, though the full picture remained hidden. He wondered if Ning Muyan knew about this.
His mind, already in disarray, grew even more tangled.
Back at the clinic, seeing no customers, Bai Lan returned to the back courtyard to tidy his room. Though he had cleaned earlier, the bed was still unmade.
The room was small—half the size of a Ning residence bedroom. A small window sat beside the bed, a single bed pressed against the wall, and a tiny wardrobe.
To preserve space, there was no table or chair.
Bai Lan, coming from a larger house, found it cramped at first. Folding clothes into the wardrobe and making the bed, he gradually adapted.
Once everything was in order, his father returned with a piece of braised meat.
The two set up a small stove in the courtyard and cooked dinner.
In the city, shops like theirs—small in front with a house in the back—usually lacked space for a kitchen unless there was land to build a stove. If not, one could only cook on a stove like theirs.
The stove was compact and convenient, though charcoal cost more than firewood, slightly raising expenses.
After dinner, father and son sorted medicinal herbs in the shop, returning indoors to rest once finished.
Though the western city was not as prosperous as the east, streets were still busy. Across the street were night markets and entertainment houses. Before nightfall, the area was lively; after, it quieted, though faint songs from the performers could still be heard.
Although Pear Blossom Garden faced Zhuque Street, it was vast, with a large lake in the middle. Despite being in a busy area, it was quiet rather than noisy.
Bai Lan had grown up in the countryside, where life was very peaceful; no one needed to enforce bedtime—everyone would retreat to their own spaces. Compared to that, Pear Blossom Garden had been even more serene. Now, suddenly sleeping in a shop facing the street, with the night watch calling and horses passing by, distant laughter and music from the far streets, he found it difficult to sleep.
After tossing and turning for a while, he got up and lit a roll of calming incense, finally managing a restful night.
The next morning, before dawn, Bai Lan heard the sounds of shop doors opening. As time passed, the street grew increasingly noisy. He realized he could no longer sleep in late.
He crawled out of bed and opened the shop door. The morning breeze carried the scent of the nearby lake and the early spring grass and soil. For a moment, Bai Lan felt as if he had returned to life in the countryside.
The spring wind was still chilly, but it woke him fully. Stretching, he decided not to make breakfast himself and instead bought a few buns from a food stall across the street, also bringing a bowl of noodles to his father.
“Father, you don’t need to go see patients today. I’m going to set up a stall by Nanmen Temple to let people know our clinic is open.”
“Alright,” Jiang Zichun said.
Bai Lan slung a large medicine case across his shoulder, carrying nothing else. At Nanmen Temple, he would open it and display commonly requested remedies.
It wasn’t a festival day, so few people would come seeking treatment. His main goal was publicity: once people knew he had opened a clinic, word would spread, just like the first time he set up a stall.
“小 Jiang, why have you come today?” a woman asked from a food stall.
“I’ve opened the Jiang Clinic in the western city. I won’t be setting up a stall anymore. Today is just to let people know. Please tell anyone who asks,” Bai Lan said.
“Of course! I’ll be sure to tell them,” she replied cheerfully. “Congratulations on opening your clinic.”
Bai Lan smiled and moved on to set up at his usual spot.
Today, the medicine case served as his stall, so he couldn’t sit directly. Luckily, his father had given him a small collapsible stool, allowing him to sit beside the case.
Previously, on the last day of the lunar month, a crowd had gathered before he even arrived. Today, no one came. Bored, he began tidying a bundle of kudzu root.
He wondered if Ning Muyan had already left the city. He always rose early—perhaps he had already walked ten or more li. Though he knew Ning Muyan would be fine, he still wished him a safe journey.
“小 Jiang, what brings you here?” another person asked.
Bai Lan repeated the clinic’s news to them. By day’s end, he had informed a dozen or so people, and then he packed up.
By the fifteenth day of the month, the clinic had become bustling. People were happy to know Bai Lan would now see patients at the clinic, avoiding long waits at the end of the month. Previously, arriving late could mean medicines were sold out.
Once word spread, Bai Lan had no free time. Seeing patients and dispensing medicine kept him so busy he often skipped lunch.
Jiang Zichun occasionally came to the clinic for consultations. Skilled in bones and muscles, many patients could not travel and had to be treated at home. With the cold spring weather, joint pains and rheumatism flared. His medicines worked well, and his reputation grew, keeping them both busy.
Both father and son were occupied, leaving no time to dwell on other matters. At night, Bai Lan no longer noticed the street noise and slept soundly.
After over half a month, Bai Lan realized that continuing this pace would exhaust them and delay patients. Near the end of the month, he posted a notice seeking an assistant. With someone to greet patients and prepare common remedies, it would lighten the workload for him and Jiang Zichun.
“The clinic’s only been open a month, and you’re already hiring?” Jiang Zichun laughed.
“That’s because Doctor Jiang’s skill draws the people,” Bai Lan replied.
“Hiring an assistant is good. Sometimes villagers come seeking your help, and I’m too busy to go myself. Extra hands will help,” Jiang Zichun said.
The clinic’s popularity drew applicants immediately. Bai Lan kept the notice posted for three days, receiving four or five applicants, all young boys, aged twelve to sixteen.
Apprenticeship as an assistant did not pay well compared to being a full physician. Only young people aiming to become doctors would take the position; older boys with families could not survive on such wages.
An assistant could help the physician while learning basic medical knowledge and skills, gaining experience for the future.
After considering the applicants over three days, Bai Lan selected one who lived nearest the clinic, could read and write, and knew some basic pharmacology.
There was no room for him to stay at the clinic, so the boy would return home at night, which was most convenient.
The boy’s name was Xiao Xi. He cheerfully arrived to begin his duties, and with an extra pair of hands, the clinic quickly became more organized and manageable.
Bai Lan finally allowed himself a moment to breathe.
By early March, the weather had warmed considerably. The villagers from Lukou still brought vegetables and melons from their fields for Jiang Zichun.
That morning, a large carriage stopped at the clinic’s entrance.
“Madam Qi?”
Bai Lan hurried forward as the lady carefully stepped down.
Gu Weiyan smiled warmly at him. “Little Doctor Jiang.”
“How have you been since coming in?” he asked.
“All is well. The tonic you gave me to stabilize the pregnancy, Doctor Jiang, I took as you instructed. I didn’t take it in excess, and compared to my first pregnancy, it’s much more comfortable to take the medicine day by day,” she said.
Bai Lan ushered her inside. “Even tonic is medicine—three parts cure, one part poison. Even a restorative taken in excess can harm a healthy body.”
Gu Weiyan nodded. “I received a letter from my husband a few days ago. He traveled to the capital with Master Ning, and only then did I learn that Doctor Jiang had opened a clinic. I should have congratulated you sooner, but with pregnancy visitors arriving, I was delayed until today.”
She lifted her hand, and attendants brought in several boxes. “Some mountain ginseng and other medicinal herbs. I thought they might be of use to you, Doctor Jiang.”
“You are far too kind, Madam Qi,” Bai Lan said, scratching his head awkwardly. “I also haven’t yet apologized for my misbehavior last time over drinks.”
“No matter,” she replied. “Everyone has moments of vulnerability. The important thing is that your heart is now at ease. Why dwell on the past?”
Bai Lan smiled. “Please, have a seat.”
He poured her a cup of tea. “It’s a small place, I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she said, taking a sip. Knowing Bai Lan was sincere, she didn’t bother with formalities. “I’ve come partly to congratulate you, and partly to trouble you with a matter.”
“We are old acquaintances. Madam Qi, you may speak freely,” Bai Lan said.
Gu Weiyan continued, “When you visited my residence to treat me, you happened to meet Madam Bian. In recent cold weather, young Master Bian caught a chill. Despite taking medicine, he hasn’t recovered. Madam Bian worries for her son and several times asked for him to be treated. Knowing your skill, she hoped you might come and help.”
Bai Lan’s brow twitched. Indeed, they knew how to make requests politely. Could it be that Bian Daiyun caught the chill from that day by the lakeside? More than a month had passed; if it were a real illness, it had lingered far too long.
Had it been an ordinary request, Bai Lan might have hesitated to go, but with Madam Qi’s careful recommendation—and the favor she and her husband had shown him in the past—it would be impolite to refuse.
“It’s nothing. I’ll make the visit. This is part of my duty as a physician,” he said.
Madam Qi’s smile brightened upon hearing his consent.
The two spoke at length. They got along well; had it not been for other patients arriving, they might have talked even longer.
“Doctor Jiang, I won’t keep you further today. If you have time in the future, I shall visit again.”
Bai Lan stood to see her off. Watching her step into the carriage, he was about to turn back when she called out, “Doctor Jiang.”
She peeked from behind the carriage curtain. “Everything in the capital is fine. The spring examination began in early March, and those taking the exam have already successfully departed.”
Bai Lan nodded in acknowledgment.
Gu Weiyan smiled gently, lowered the curtain, and left.
Bai Lan pursed his lips. Why did she feel the need to mention all this? Clearing his throat, he returned to the clinic.
The next day, a servant from the Bian household arrived to fetch him. Perhaps due to his growing reputation, or Madam Qi’s praise to Madam Bian, they even sent a small carriage for him.
Bai Lan carried his medicine case, swaying slightly in the carriage, and soon arrived at the Bian residence.
It was his first time visiting. He had heard that the current Bian estate had once belonged to an old minister. After Consort Ling gained favor, the emperor had appointed Bian’s father to the capital and renovated the old residence for the family. Originally a grand estate, the renovations made it exceedingly luxurious.
Bai Lan, accustomed to seeing the world, did not look around, following the servant quietly.
He was first led to a garden, which led to Madam Bian’s quarters.
“So, you are Jiang Bai Lan?” Madam Bian asked, curious and slightly skeptical at the sight of a young man close in age to her own son. If not for Madam Qi’s recommendation—that he had overseen her pregnancy—she might never have trusted the skills of such a young physician.
“Yes,” Bai Lan replied.
“Today, I’ve asked you to examine my son. I could have summoned other doctors, but none would be as convenient. Regardless of the results, do not speak of this outside the household,” she instructed.
“Madam, rest assured. It is part of a physician’s ethics never to disclose matters within a household,” Bai Lan said.
“Very well.”
The lady called, “Caiwei, take the doctor to the young master.”
“Yes, madam.”
Bai Lan followed the maid to another garden. Visiting a wealthy household could be unpleasant: strict rules, large spaces, moving from garden to garden, answering questions in one, examining in another, then returning—it could wear down one’s feet.
Though the pay was generous, it was fair for the effort.
In smaller households, compensation was less, but the spaces were compact. Examining and consulting could be done quickly and efficiently.
While he muttered quietly about these minor inconveniences, they arrived.
The atmosphere in the garden was heavy. Four strong servants guarded the entrance. Entering the main courtyard, the doors were tightly closed, flanked by two robust housekeepers.
The girl called Caiwei announced that Madam Bian had sent for the doctor to examine the young master, and only then did the housekeeper open the door to let them in.
Bai Lan entered the room and, at first, saw no one. Following Caiwei into the inner chamber, he finally saw Bian Daiyun lying on the bed.
The young master’s gaze was vacant, lips pale, face waxen and yellowed; he truly looked ill.
“Young master, Madam has sent the doctor to examine you. Once the doctor looks at you, you will surely feel better,” Bai Lan said gently.
“Out,” Bian Daiyun’s voice was hoarse, not even sparing a glance at the visitor.
“Young master, it is natural to feel disheartened during illness. This doctor is renowned—he will surely help you recover.”
“Out! Get out! Let me die here if I will. Go tell my mother I am dead.”
Caiwei, apparently accustomed to his outbursts, turned to Bai Lan. “Young master is confused by illness. Doctor, please examine him.” She gave a slight bow and stepped back.
Bai Lan saw that only Bian Daiyun and his personal attendant remained. He set down his medicine case on the table.
“What ails you, young master?”
“I don’t want treatment. Leave!”
Bai Lan looked at the young man’s tearful, wide-eyed glare but felt no fear. Bian Daiyun, lying weakly in bed, could do him no harm. Bai Lan had endured far harsher rebukes before; words like “get lost” were nothing new.
“If I leave now, my visit is wasted. We ordinary people work hard for a living—we don’t get to lie in bed surrounded by luxuries like you,” Bai Lan said calmly.
Bian Daiyun paused, caught off guard by the unusual tone. He attempted to sit up, and his attendant reached to support him, but Bian Daiyun pushed him away.
“How much money do you want? Take it and leave me be,” he said.
“I don’t accept payment for a service I haven’t rendered,” Bai Lan replied lightly.
Bian Daiyun’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths. He wanted to curse Bai Lan but could only pant, powerless.
Bai Lan approached, seized the young master’s arm, and felt his pulse.
Bian Daiyun struggled briefly. “Young master, at your current state, even a small physician like me can hardly be resisted. What resistance do you hope to achieve? Death may bring an end, but your desires may remain unfulfilled,” Bai Lan said softly.
Bian Daiyun fell silent for a moment. Bai Lan, having finished checking the pulse, released his hand.
“Your body has not recovered from the chill, and your spirits are low, affecting appetite. Your limbs are weak, and your head aches. Taking medicine alone won’t be sufficient—you must eat and drink properly for the remedies to work.”
“Don’t bother. I will eat nothing,” Bian Daiyun snapped, glaring.
Bai Lan shrugged. “Suit yourself. Your mouth isn’t on me anyway; I doubt I could make you eat.”
He then took paper and brush to write a prescription. “One more thing, young master—if you die, others may suffer too. If you don’t care for yourself or others, that’s one thing. But life doesn’t exist in isolation.”
Bian Daiyun, hand trembling, asked, “You know what?”
“What could I know? I only see that if you continue like this, you are in real danger. If something happens to you, Madam will certainly blame your attendants for negligence, and they could be punished.” Bai Lan finished the prescription and blew on the ink to dry it.
He added, “My clinic is on the western side of the city, by the lake. If you recover this time, you can come to me for treatment in the future.”
Bian Daiyun furrowed his brow at this last remark, clutching the blanket tighter.
Bai Lan relayed Madam Bian’s message accurately and left the prescription behind.
Madam Bian noted that Bai Lan’s diagnosis was much the same as the previous doctors’—in essence, it offered little new insight. Frustrated by her son’s illness and seeing that multiple physicians had failed to help, she grew more irritable. She waved her hand, and the housekeeper handed Bai Lan two silver coins and escorted him out.
“Madam, what if the young master continues like this?”
“He is hopeless, utterly hopeless!” Madam Bian slammed the table. “A fine future wasted, all for the sake of some insignificant official’s son! I’ve cared for him in vain these years!”
The housekeeper tried to console her. “Young master is overly sentimental. This incident may well have been stirred up by that Yi boy. It’s not entirely his fault.”
Madam Bian’s gaze darkened further. “If Daiyun persists, I won’t be lenient with the Yi family. In the past, I restrained myself for old ties, but the Yi family has no sense of their station.”
“Please calm yourself, madam,” the housekeeper said.