The summer rain was heavy. The firewood left out last night had soaked through, and everything was dripping.
The surrounding fields were filled with the rushing sound of water. Bailan opened the door to see villagers hastily wading through the muddy village roads, trousers rolled up.
With the night’s heavy rain, the rice paddies had surely collected a lot of water. It wasn’t officially summer yet, so the weather was not dry. Ponds and fields were full, and if the rain continued, the dikes could break, flooding lower fields and draining the stored water.
Furthermore, the strong wind and rain had likely ripped thatch roofs or tiles from farmhouses, letting water into homes.
Such mornings, after a heavy rain, were always the busiest. People wore raincoats and straw hats to inspect the fields; others repaired roofs. The village buzzed with activity.
Bailan put on a small straw hat and checked his family’s medicinal herbs in the field. They had been battered by the wind and rain but hadn’t fallen over. He also picked a few rain-soaked scallions and vegetable shoots to take home.
Upon returning, he saw his father rushing with the medicine box: “Bailan, I have to go out. Old Master Wang at the village head has broken his leg. I must check on him.”
Bailan quickly removed his mud-caked rain boots. “What happened?”
“Yesterday, the large locust tree in his yard was struck by lightning and fell onto the roof. He was inside sleeping when it hit him.”
Bailan’s heart leapt. He hurried to help Jiang Zichun gather supplies, putting on a hat and boots.
“Don’t wait for me to eat,” Jiang Zichun said, hastily adjusting his shoes and hat, carrying the medicine box out the door. “The ground outside is slippery. Go only once it clears.”
Bailan nodded. “I understand. Be careful, Father.”
No sooner had his father left than a knock sounded at the door.
Bailan opened it to see a new young man.
“Who are you looking for?”
“I’m from Zanyu Manor,” the young man said anxiously. “Someone in the manor is ill and requested the doctor come over.”
Bailan’s brow furrowed. “But my father has already gone to see a patient.”
“Then… could the young doctor make the trip?”
Bailan thought quickly. “I haven’t formally visited patients before. Perhaps we should wait for my father to return. Besides, Zanyu Manor has never requested a doctor from our village before. How have they handled illnesses?”
The young man said, “There was a doctor living at the manor, but he went to the city yesterday and won’t return for two days. We’re just servants. It’s already generous of the master to hire a doctor for the manor. We didn’t want to trouble the head of the manor, so we came to request the village doctor nearby.”
“It’s nothing serious,” the young man explained. “Last night the wind and rain were fierce, and my mother caught a chill. If the young doctor could prescribe a couple of doses for the common cold, that would be enough.”
Having drawn out the truth, Bailan’s instincts as a healer kicked in. “Then wait a moment. I’ll grab some things and come over.”
Following the young man, Bailan made his way to Zanyu Manor. The path was slippery; by the time they arrived, his rain boots were caked with two pounds of wet mud. It was his first visit. The manor’s spacious courtyard, paved with flat stones, reflected the rain from the previous night. A few servants were sweeping fallen leaves.
Unlike the bustling village, the manor was orderly and quiet.
Bailan picked up a small stick outside to scrape the mud from his boots, then followed the young man in. They walked through the main gate and along the side corridor.
“Bailan? What brings you here?”
At the end of the corridor, Bailan saw a waiting hall where two men were having tea. When they noticed him, Liu Jin looked up first.
“I’ve come to see a patient.”
“You know how to treat patients too?” Liu Jin asked, surprised.
Bailan merely nodded, not wishing to explain, and kept pace with the young man. Once they walked a little away, Bailan asked, “Do you know why those two are here?”
The young man answered politely, “They’re here to pay respects to the master of the manor.”
Bailan wondered why, if they didn’t usually visit, they were suddenly so attentive these past couple of days. He was about to ask whether Ning Muyan was still at the manor when the young man spoke first: “We’ve arrived.”
Soon, Bailan was led into a room. On the bed lay an elderly matron.
“Mother, the doctor is here.” The young man helped her sit up. Bailan approached, palpated her pulse, and checked her forehead. “You have a slight fever. I brought some herbs, but it may not be enough; I’ll need to return with more.”
“If the young doctor says it’s only a mild fever, I’m relieved. Please prescribe the medicine; the manor has the basic herbs.”
Bailan noted that large manors were well-stocked. “That’ll do.”
For a common fever, no complex prescription was needed. The herbs were familiar and easily identifiable. Bailan recited the formula.
“Take the medicine on schedule. The fever will subside quickly. Even in summer rains, don’t stay chilled. If your hair or clothes get wet, change immediately.”
The young man nodded twice. Bailan rose. “I’ll take my leave. If anything else arises, come find me.”
“Thank you, young doctor.” The young man reached for the payment, but a middle-aged man entered first.
“Master Huang,” the young man greeted respectfully.
The middle-aged man strode in. “How is Mother Zhang?”
“Thank you for your concern, Master. The doctor says it’s just a mild fever.”
The man glanced at Bailan and smiled faintly. “I heard Mother Zhang was ill, and you went to fetch a doctor. Now that I’m here to check on her, I might also trouble the doctor with another visit.”
“Is there someone else ill?”
Master Huang didn’t answer directly, only gesturing for Bailan to follow. “This way, please.”
Bailan followed, uneasy. He feared it might be a collective fever outbreak—then it wouldn’t be a simple illness.
As they moved from the smaller quarters into the main hall, Bailan’s apprehension grew. At the doorway to the principal room, he paused. “Master Huang, I’ve come from outside… my boots might dirty the floor.”
Master Huang looked at his shoes. “It’s fine.”
He then retrieved a clean pair of slippers from the rack by the doorway and handed them to Bailan. Holding the slippers, Bailan could find no excuse to refuse. He changed into them and followed inside.
As Bailan entered the main room, he saw a young man seated at a desk, head lowered as he wrote. His hair, likely only recently set, was casually tied back with a green jade hairpin.
“Young master, the doctor has arrived.”
Hearing this, Ning Muyan set down his brush and looked up at Bailan, who had followed behind Master Huang.
Master Huang, seeing this, understood without a word, bowed slightly, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Bailan instinctively inhaled and felt a pang of wanting to flee.
“Did you already eat breakfast?” Ning Muyan asked as he rose from the desk.
Snapping back to reality, Bailan ignored the aside and assessed him professionally. “Young Master Ning looks radiant and in good spirits. What seems to be the discomfort?”
Ning Muyan noticed the deviation from the question but did not seem angry. “Chest tightness, shortness of breath, restless sleep… no apparent cause.”
“Perhaps your body is adjusting to the local water and climate,” Bailan suggested.
Ning Muyan sat by the desk, sleeves rolled up. “Let’s examine the pulse.”
Bailan took the seat opposite him, observing the long, slender wrist in front of him. Sighing quietly, he hesitated briefly before placing a silk handkerchief over the wrist, then began palpating the pulse.
The skin’s warmth was higher than normal. Even through the silk, Bailan could feel it. Though not scorching, the heat flushed his ears.
Though reborn after their shared past, Bailan couldn’t help but recall the lingering memory of warmth and closeness from before.
He quietly mourned, leaving behind the naïve identity of the village doctor, knowing he could never return to that innocent time.
Ning Muyan studied the handkerchief over his wrist. His expression was pale, but his brow twitched ever so slightly. “Young Doctor Jiang… you can even examine the pulse through a cloth?”
“My father taught me.”
“Such skill in someone so young, impressive indeed.”
Bailan felt a heady mix of pride and fluster at being called “Young Doctor Jiang” repeatedly. Heart racing, he closed his eyes to focus on the pulse and silently signaled Ning Muyan to keep quiet.
But Ning Muyan had no intention of keeping silent. Instead, he asked, “Is there anything wrong with my body, or some hidden ailment?”
Bai Lan couldn’t help thinking, What hidden ailment could you possibly have that I don’t already know about?
He cleared his throat. “Young Master Ning, you worry too much. It’s nothing serious—just a mild cold causing some fever.”
“Is that so? Then I suppose I was unduly alarmed,” Ning Muyan said, his gaze resting on Bai Lan’s wide eyes, calm and even. “Someone mentioned I might have a hidden ailment, but after listening to Dr. Jiang, I feel much reassured.”
Bai Lan’s small face brightened, and he quickly withdrew his hand along with the silk scarf he had been holding. “Surely that person was only joking with Young Master Ning. Your character is noble; there’s no way you would take it to heart.”
“I thought that person was timid, but it seems they too can joke. I admit I misjudged them.”
“People have more than one side. Perhaps Young Master Ning doesn’t fully know this person.”
Ning Muyan looked at Bai Lan thoughtfully. “You are right—I don’t know him well.”
“In that case, I shall make it my task to understand, to make amends for any oversight,” Bai Lan said, though a shiver ran down his back. Make amends… sure, but really, it’s unnecessary.
“I will prescribe some medicine—brew a bit of cinnamon twig decoction to treat the fever,” Ning Muyan said with a small smile. “I heard that the village has some basic medicinal herbs. I shall notify the steward, and I’ll take my leave for today.”
Bai Lan, afraid that Ning Muyan might linger and say more, breathed a silent sigh of relief. Ning Muyan didn’t linger; he simply said, “Thank you, Dr. Jiang,” and called out to those waiting outside. The door opened, and he left without further words.
Bai Lan followed the steward out, slightly pursing his lips in thought. This person’s manner was truly inscrutable.
The steward spoke kindly. “Thank you, Doctor, for coming so early. There are some pastries prepared in the front hall—please take them before you leave.”
Bai Lan was about to refuse, but the steward continued, “This is the estate’s way of showing courtesy. Our young master and young ladies are of noble health and rank. We, the servants, cannot be negligent. If the doctor were to leave now, it would be a waste of a trip. Please wait a moment while I fetch the consultation fee for you.”
Bai Lan hadn’t paid much attention to these words. Ning Muyan, though a scholar, had a body as strong as a plow ox—hardly a delicate bookworm.
The Ning household, a refined family, did not raise idle heirs; their scholars were trained in the Six Arts, skilled in horseback riding and archery, capable even on the battlefield. A mild cold would hardly pose a problem.
Had the steward not summoned the doctor so quickly, Ning Muyan’s mild fever would likely have healed on its own.
The main concern now was settling the fee. Bai Lan didn’t want the trip to be wasted, so he didn’t refuse. He followed the steward obediently.
This time, they walked along a different corridor, parallel to the one they had taken in the morning. From below, the Liu father and son spotted Bai Lan trailing the steward toward the front hall. Both quickly stood and craned their necks to watch.