“Young… Young Master?” Bai Lan asked cautiously. “May I… may I leave?”
Ning Muyan said nothing. His mouth felt bitter; words wouldn’t come.
When Bai Lan quietly moved toward the door, Ning Muyan finally spoke: “Even if all this was a misunderstanding, I still want to ask…”
“Do you… truly have no feelings for me at all?”
Bai Lan froze.
He faced away from Ning Muyan, unwilling to meet his gaze.
He thought carefully before answering, but the truth was elusive. He wasn’t naive—since returning to the Ning residence, he had keenly noticed Ning Muyan’s care and favoritism, all of it tangible.
But he had avoided contemplating Ning Muyan’s question. Life was simple: eat, sleep, make medicine, write, repeat. He didn’t leave any room for thoughts that would lead nowhere—only to trouble him.
He had tried not to think, yet now the question was being asked, and by Ning Muyan of all people.
Bai Lan stood there, unsure of what to do, frozen for a long while.
After a deep breath, he turned, his voice calm: “Young Master… no.”
Ning Muyan met his gaze, pressing his brows together.
Even across the distance of the rooms, Bai Lan could feel the weight of Ning Muyan’s disappointment. He dared not imagine why—it was enough that he instinctively muttered: “If there’s nothing else, I’ll return to rest.”
He opened the door hurriedly, his nervousness exposed.
But before he could leave, Ning Muyan’s voice rang out behind him: “I’m sorry… I do have feelings.”
Bai Lan didn’t know how he made it back to Tianmendong. Perhaps he had walked; perhaps he had run. He was already in his courtyard, yet his soul felt left somewhere behind.
Yet those five words thundered in his mind, rolling over and over, impossible to ignore.
Ning Muyan paced quietly, hands behind his back, watching Bai Lan busy at the workbench in the courtyard. His mind still reeled from the previous day—Ning Muyan had admitted he had feelings. He had said it. For him.
Bai Lan’s heart raced and tumbled over itself at the thought. Did this mean Ning Muyan truly felt something for him?
Outside, the wind had picked up, rattling the trees and bushes as if trying to drown out the storm in Bai Lan’s heart. But the man standing by the window remained oblivious, his hair tousled by the gusts.
Bai Lan hadn’t slept all night.
The next day, he dragged himself through the courtyard, the dark circles under his eyes stark, and absentmindedly ground herbs at the workbench. Ning Zhengyu, still brimming with energy, burst into the garden to pay morning respects to Ning Muyan, chattering endlessly in the young master’s room before finally leaving.
“Hey, where’s Bai Lan today?” Ning Zhengyu asked, noticing Sanleng pouring water nearby.
“He’s in the courtyard making medicine,” came the reply.
“Oh, is that so?” Ning Zhengyu bounded up the steps into Tianmendong. “The ointment from yesterday really works. I just saw my brother’s scrape has healed quite a bit. Give me two jars—I’ll keep them for later use.”
Bai Lan didn’t look up, continuing his work. Bringing up the ointment, are you serious? If it weren’t for you taking the wrong jar, today’s mess would never have happened.
Ning Zhengyu, noticing Bai Lan’s silence, leaned closer, tilting his head to peer at Bai Lan’s face, and exclaimed in surprise, “Ah! Why do your eyes look like my brother’s—didn’t you sleep last night?”
Bai Lan rolled his eyes. “If anyone else hears you say that, what would they think?”
“You’re acting weird today, not energetic at all. Just now there was some fine chestnut cake—my brother called you to eat, and you didn’t even go.”
“I’m just a servant—why would I eat a master’s food?” Bai Lan replied, keeping to his task.
“Who considers you a servant? My brother treats you differently from others, and you take care of grandmother’s health. Everyone in the household respects that. No one dares think of you as a mere servant.”
Bai Lan waved a hand. “But Second Young Master constantly scolds me like I am a servant.”
“That’s just teasing—you don’t need to take it to heart.”
“Yesterday we went out, and last night was windy and noisy. I couldn’t sleep. My whole body is sore… Second Young Master can do as he pleases.”
“Ugh, you really are something!” Ning Zhengyu grumbled, following Bai Lan into the back courtyard, his voice carrying from Tianmendong. “If you keep this up, I swear I’ll trample your herb garden!”
Ning Muyan stood under the eaves of Tianmendong, hands behind his back, listening to the half-hearted banter. Unlike his usual lively self, he felt a complex mix of emotions and did not step inside.
For three or five days, Bai Lan had been unusually diligent at Bao’an Hall, deliberately avoiding the study and keeping away from Ning Muyan. If Ning Muyan came, he would hide—so they existed under the same roof without crossing paths.
On this day, Bai Lan once again thought of an excuse to avoid the study, only to be spared when Qingmo arrived first, saying that the young master had visitors. Relieved, Bai Lan closed the doors of Tianmendong and continued tinkering with his formulas inside.
“I’ve meant to come over for some time,” Qingmo said. “When Zhengyu got frightened at the polo grounds, you should have come to check on him. But with household matters lately, you haven’t had the chance. Is Zhengyu all right?”
Ning Muyan poured tea for Qi Zhuo in the room. “What could be wrong? Boys his age recover quickly from bumps and bruises. You needn’t worry so much.”
Qi Zhuo smiled faintly, taking a sip. “What’s been keeping the household busy lately?”
He set down his teacup. “When you left so hurriedly from the polo grounds, I intended to introduce you to the newly appointed Official Bian of Yongchang Prefecture.”
Ning Muyan’s brows furrowed.
“This Bian family originally held only a minor seventh-rank judicial post in the county,” Qi Zhuo explained. “Their daughter bore the emperor a son, earning the favor of the court. The emperor granted the family great honors, elevating them to control the prefecture’s salt revenue. Their prominence is undeniable.”
Ning Muyan nodded. “The prefect certainly did his duty as host. No wonder you were busy attending him.”
Qi Zhuo lowered his voice, leaning closer. “The Bian family has a young son of age, unmarried. I heard they’re seeking a capable son-in-law. During a banquet with my father, after three rounds of wine, Official Bian even inquired about talented young men in the prefecture. Muyan, you were surely mentioned. Official Bian holds you in high regard.”
Ning Muyan’s gaze shifted slightly. He chuckled lightly. “The Bian family certainly doesn’t hide their intentions. But spare me the flattery—Beijing is full of remarkable men. The Bian family, now favored by the emperor, would hardly notice a family as thinly represented as mine in court.”
“Whether your family is thinly represented is known to us, and others are not fools. I speak not to tease, but so you may be aware—if you are interested, you can seize the opportunity; if not, at least be prepared.”
Ning Muyan nodded. “You truly understand me and think so carefully on my behalf.”
“Ha, why say such things? It feels formal and distant,” Qi Zhuo teased.
The two shared a knowing silence, sipping their tea. The air had grown cold, and a brazier was lit in the room.
“You seem a little tired today. What’s wrong?”
“The approach of winter. The nights are cold, and I sleep poorly,” Ning Muyan replied.
“Take care of yourself. You’ll be entering the capital for the imperial exam next year. Though Yongchang isn’t far from the capital, poor health could still hinder you.”
Ning Muyan merely nodded, a trace of helplessness in his eyes.
“Speaking of health, there’s something I must discuss with you,” Qi Zhuo said. “Do you remember the household concerns I mentioned before?”
“Yes, what about them?”
Qi Zhuo sighed. “Still the same. I fear that after you go to the capital, Wei Yan will have an even harder time at home. Recently, I heard of a doctor renowned for rejuvenating treatments, especially skilled with women’s ailments. Wei Yan and I wanted to invite him, but the doctor’s whereabouts are uncertain. We haven’t been able to secure him yet.”
“Which doctor is so skilled that even you couldn’t manage to invite him?” Ning Muyan asked. “I know you’re eager for a child, but don’t let anyone exploit that desire to deceive you. If this truly is a doctor of rare talent, he wouldn’t be so hard to find for no reason.”
“Everyone who’s been treated by him praises his skill,” Qi Zhuo replied. “He can adjust a patient’s body to aid conception. I even heard of a young man who, under his care, successfully fathered a child. Some servants have sought his remedies; he is clearly no charlatan.”
Ning Muyan furrowed his brow, seeing how deeply Qi Zhuo worried over the matter. “Then tell me carefully what you know. I’ll see if there’s a way to help you locate him.”
“I heard the doctor is a young man,” Qi Zhuo explained. “He sets up his stall at the South Gate Temple on the fifteenth and the last day of each month. Patients and those seeking remedies gather in great numbers. He has a peculiar temperament—no matter how many come, he won’t act outside the agreed times. Sometimes he doesn’t even show up on schedule.”
“….”
Ning Muyan paused, momentarily at a loss for words.
Seeing his hesitation, Qi Zhuo continued earnestly: “It really works. Don’t laugh at me for believing it. Talented people often have abilities beyond ordinary understanding. Muyan, aren’t you seen this way by others?”
Ning Muyan chuckled. “You do like to tease.”
“I’ve said so much—have you heard of him? If it’s true as the rumors say, perhaps he could be invited to treat Grandmother’s headaches as well.”
Ning Muyan nodded. “Since you’ve brought it up, I can’t refuse to help.”
He sighed lightly. “I do know this doctor. His temperament is… hard to judge. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always unpredictable.”
Qi Zhuo’s eyes lit up. “Really!”
Ning Muyan was unaware that the household’s young physician had already earned a reputation, even being called a famous doctor—truly impressive. Now, however, he wondered if the doctor would even meet him, given that he had neglected him for several days.
“Do you know where he lives? Perhaps I could send a note, or I could bring Wei Yan myself!”
Ning Muyan stood. “Very well. You shall come with me.”