By the time Bai Lan returned to the clinic, it was late. After having dinner with Jiang Zichun, he stayed at the clinic that night, formulating prescriptions.
In the back courtyard, Jiang Zichun was brewing ointments when he went to the front to fetch herbs and noticed Bai Lan still in the clinic. He couldn’t help but be surprised. “Don’t you usually go for a walk by the lake after dinner? Why haven’t you gone today?”
Bai Lan paused, keeping his thoughts to himself, and only shook the pen in his hand. “Writing prescriptions.”
“You can write them tomorrow. Going out for a walk is good for the eyes. After long periods of reading, vision becomes unclear.”
Bai Lan nodded. “I know.”
Jiang Zichun chuckled. “What’s the matter? Seeing all those couples by the lake got you feeling tight in the chest, not wanting to go?”
“Father, it’s nothing like that.” Bai Lan was part of one such pair himself—no need to envy others.
Jiang Zichun said, “You’re at the age for marriage. If there’s someone you wish to marry, tell me. I can find a matchmaker. Even if you approach a family yourself, it won’t bring ridicule. Don’t just bury yourself in medical books—you still need to think about life’s important matters.”
Bai Lan considered saying that the family in question probably wouldn’t let a matchmaker go lightly, but seeing Jiang Zichun so concerned, he obediently nodded. “Alright.”
Jiang Zichun patted his head and returned to the back courtyard with his things.
Normally, after dinner, Bai Lan would have rushed to the lake, eagerly awaiting Ning Muyan. But today, after returning from the Bian household, he felt somewhat listless—not because of Bian Daiyun. He cupped his cheeks and sighed softly.
Earlier, joking about a future where he and Ning Muyan had children, he had been filled with anticipation, but suddenly he remembered the last days of his past life as a wandering spirit.
That day, he had returned to the city and seen Ning Muyan, elderly and near the end, surrounded by grandchildren. The scene was so heartfelt, yet he wondered where so many people had come from to see him off. The more he thought about it, the more bitter it felt. When the appointed time arrived, he still lingered in the clinic, reluctant to go out.
It was mid-summer; cicadas chirped and frogs croaked, but Bai Lan grew increasingly restless, fanning himself haphazardly. The clinic had been treated with a special insect-repellent solution, so there were no mosquitoes to strike at—even a fly to take out his frustration on was missing.
“Brother, the medicine.”
Bai Lan was snapped back by a soft, gentle voice. A little boy, only as tall as the counter, ran into the clinic. Bai Lan quickly took the child’s hand. “What medicine do you need? Do you have a prescription?”
The boy placed a willow sprig on the table. “Timely medicine—deliver it to the lakeside pavilion.”
Then, the boy ran off on his own.
Bai Lan looked toward the lake, pursed his lips, and placed the willow in a narrow-necked bottle without water.
He walked around the counter and descended the lakeside steps. The breeze on the water made it cooler than the clinic. Night had fallen; lanterns lit the streets, though only one or two dimly lit the lakeside.
Bai Lan walked along the shore as usual, and by the Willow-Haitang Pavilion, he saw a graceful figure standing at the railing, bathed in silvery moonlight.
He cleared his throat. The figure turned, voice tinged with slight reproach: “Why are you only just here?”
Bai Lan stepped forward. “The clinic is busy. I was delayed.”
Ning Muyan watched quietly. “That’s a lie. No one went to the clinic after dinner today.”
“Then, aside from consultations and prescriptions, I can’t do something else?”
Bai Lan tilted his head, intending to appear profound, but seeing Ning Muyan’s face up close made him stifle a laugh.
He poked at Ning Muyan’s face, red and swollen from mosquito bites. “How impudent these mosquitoes are! Even daring to bite Director Ning—you’ve got such a good-looking face, and now it’s all ruined.”
Ning Muyan grabbed Bai Lan’s wrist. “All because you were late.”
“All right, all right.” Bai Lan led Ning Muyan to sit by the pavilion and took out the repellent, applying it to the swollen spots. “This medicine doesn’t smell good, but it works.”
Ning Muyan tilted his chin, letting Bai Lan apply it. “Dr. Xiao Jiang seems to be in a bad mood today. Did someone upset you?”
Bai Lan paused, tossing the bottle aside, and lowered his head to sit quietly.
Ning Muyan put the bottle away and watched him. “What’s wrong?”
Bai Lan rubbed his hands. “I just suddenly remembered some things from the past.”
“Go on, I’ll listen.”
After a pause, Bai Lan asked, “Did you… marry again in your past life?”
“Hmm?” Ning Muyan frowned. “Why ask that?”
Bai Lan hedged, “Just asking. You can tell me—I won’t get angry.”
“I didn’t remarry. Those years in Lingnan were turbulent. After returning to the capital, the new emperor kept me in service, but I resigned and opened a school in the city. I devoted myself to teaching. There was no second marriage.”
Hearing this, Bai Lan’s heart warmed. Yet he said, “Now there’s no proof either way, so what you say must be true.”
Ning Muyan, sensing the concern wasn’t unfounded, asked gently, “Why bring this up?”
Bai Lan said, “When you died in the past life, I saw it all—a room full of people. But they weren’t family. Who were they, standing by the bed?”
Ning Muyan sighed. “Those were the students. Respecting their teacher—they wouldn’t bar them from attending. Besides, I had no strength then.”
“Really?”
Ning Muyan shook his head with a smile. “How could that be faked? I didn’t expect you to really return. At the end, I thought it was a hallucination.”
He remembered his waning breath, lying on the bed, life memories flickering. Many details were blurred, but every moment with Bai Lan remained vividly clear.
He knew his life’s regrets and attachments centered on only one thing. In that obsession, he once again saw the face he had longed for. He wanted to speak, yet a thousand words choked him, jostling for escape but unsure which to release first.
Before he could look closely at the person, a gust of wind arose, and he drifted away with it.
He reached out and wrapped an arm around Bai Lan. “Even if these things can no longer be verified, what I’ve said is true.”
Bai Lan pressed his lips together, no longer pressing the matter further.
“Oh, by the way—what happened to my lamb ribs?”
Ning Muyan’s brow twitched slightly. “Oh, I bought them just now, but you didn’t come for so long they got cold, so I ate them.”
Bai Lan punched him in mock anger. “You didn’t buy them at all!”
“I really did.”
Ning Muyan stood up. “Want me to go get another one for you?”
Seeing Bai Lan silent, he stepped forward. “Then I’ll go?”
“You’re still trying to escape,” Bai Lan huffed, moving to chase him. “Serves you right, feeding the mosquitoes out here.”
The two of them ran, one after the other, scaring a young couple holding hands, who dove into a large tangle of wisteria.
The couple, shaken, relaxed a little when they realized it was just two young men. The boy, slightly younger than Bai Lan, with a mole at the corner of his eye, stepped out and bowed politely to Ning Muyan. The girl covered her face and turned away.
Bai Lan cleared his throat, feeling awkward for spoiling their moment. He scratched his nose and tapped Ning Muyan’s arm.
Ning Muyan’s lips curved slightly as he grasped Bai Lan’s hand and led him away.
Once they were a safe distance, Bai Lan finally laughed aloud. Seeing Ning Muyan remain expressionless, he nudged him with his elbow. “Are you some kind of Jin Yi Wei? Why aren’t you laughing?”
“I just found that boy familiar,” Ning Muyan replied.
Bai Lan raised an eyebrow.
“All right, it’s getting late. I should go back.”
Ning Muyan tugged on Bai Lan’s hand. “The hour is still early. Do you have to leave so soon?”
Bai Lan nodded.
“I can take you to the market to grab a bite.”
“No need. Eating too much at night will upset my stomach,” Bai Lan said.
But Ning Muyan didn’t want to let go. After a busy day, he had been hoping to spend more time with him, though he hadn’t said much, feeling reluctant to part.
“Then… can I sit in the clinic for a while?”
Bai Lan’s eyes widened. “If you’re going to the clinic, why come to the lake at all? You could just announce it with a drum and lanterns.”
“The doctor has likely already rested for the night,” Ning Muyan said, shaking Bai Lan’s hand.
Bai Lan looked at him and sighed softly.
…
“Shh, step lightly.”
Bai Lan led Ning Muyan to the clinic. The neighborhood was quiet; doors were shut. Seeing that Jiang Zichun was not in the clinic, he assumed he had returned home. To avoid running into him, Bai Lan ushered Ning Muyan into the back room. Once the door was closed, he finally relaxed.
It was Ning Muyan’s first time in Bai Lan’s room. He looked around, taking in the small space.
“It’s small, but make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some tea.”
Ning Muyan agreed, settling onto the bed, faintly smiling at the lingering scent of fresh herbs.
Bai Lan brought in the tea. “Though the room is small, it doesn’t feel hot in the summer.”
“The shade from the old trees in the back courtyard keeps it cool. The sun doesn’t hit directly during the day.”
After a few words, a low rumble shook the air. “Thunder.”
Bai Lan opened the window; wind swept through, and flashes of lightning illuminated the sky.
“Ah, I’ll go collect the clothes from the yard. You make yourself comfortable.”
He dashed outside. Jiang Zichun also heard the thunder and came out; father and son busied themselves—one gathering clothes, the other moving the stove—just as the rain began to fall heavily.
Summer rains came fast. Bai Lan ran back, seeing Ning Muyan still quietly sitting inside. His brow twitched. “You’re still here?”
“I can’t go out while Doctor Jiang is outside,” Ning Muyan said.
“Father is busy in the backyard. You could have gone out the front of the clinic; he wouldn’t see you,” Bai Lan said, frowning.
“I just didn’t want to risk running into him.”
Bai Lan raised an eyebrow.
Seeing this, Ning Muyan relented. “Fine, I’ll leave now.”
He stood by the window. “What heavy rain.”
Bai Lan stayed by the bed, silent, watching him.
Seeing Bai Lan not respond, Ning Muyan added, “Not even a single umbrella for me?”
Bai Lan smiled. “Oh? You want an umbrella to go back? Wasn’t Qing Mo supposed to wait by the carriage with one?”
“Riding the carriage would be too conspicuous. I came alone and left Qing Mo at home.”
Bai Lan clicked his tongue, nodding in understanding.
“Fine, without an umbrella, I’ll head back.”
Bai Lan watched him go. “Better wait for the rain to stop. If you get wet and a fever sets in, you’ll need medicine again. Some people don’t pay, you know—I don’t want to give free treatment.”
Ning Muyan smiled, stepping back and bowing slightly. “Even if we are family, I thank Dr. Xiao Jiang for his consideration.”
Bai Lan wiped the raindrops from his hair. Outside, the rain continued. As night deepened, the two lay together on the bed. Though cramped, neither complained about the small space.
“If the rain keeps falling, when will you leave?”
Bai Lan rested his head on Ning Muyan’s arm, wrapped in the calming scent of sandalwood.
“Before dawn. I’ll leave before Doctor Jiang wakes,” Ning Muyan said, knowing Bai Lan would prefer discretion.
Bai Lan asked, “What if the neighbors see you leaving the clinic?”
“I’ll sneak through the side gate into the academy, then leave from there.”
Watching Ning Muyan, so upright and proper, preparing to scale the wall to leave, Bai Lan couldn’t help but smile to himself, thinking he must wake early tomorrow just to watch.
“By the way, the old man sleeps little—my father gets up very early,” Bai Lan remarked.
Ning Muyan replied, “Even though I’m young, I rise as early as the elders.”
Bai Lan laughed. “Young? You’re even older than my father.”
“You’re the same,” Ning Muyan countered.
Bai Lan shot him a look. “But I died young—I never grew old.”
Hearing this, Ning Muyan’s brow furrowed slightly; he opened his mouth but said nothing.
Realizing he had spoken insensitively about a sorrowful topic, Bai Lan fell silent. He gazed at the face so close to his, reaching out to touch Ning Muyan’s nose, then traced his dark brows.
“How is it? Satisfied?”
Bai Lan smiled. “Young Master, you’re very handsome.”
He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on Ning Muyan’s brow, then drew back beneath the covers. “Sleep now.”
The bed was cramped and uncomfortable, but his heart was content, allowing him a deep, restful sleep.
The next morning, Bai Lan turned in bed, feeling unusually light and relaxed. But something felt off. When he opened his eyes, the person who had lain beside him the night before was gone.
He sat up and glanced out the window; it was already bright.
He sighed, thinking of Ning Muyan scaling the wall. He had no idea when he had slipped away. If Bai Lan had gone along, he might have at least handed him a small stool to avoid hurting his back.
Bai Lan lay back down, reaching out to the spot where Ning Muyan had slept. The warmth was gone, but faint traces of his scent remained—proof that it had not been a dream.
He felt a tinge of melancholy, uncertain when he would again awaken to find the person still beside him.
Though the day had not yet fully arrived, there was reason to rejoice:
On this first day of autumn, Qingshan Academy was completed.