Chapter Eighty-One: The Playboy

By the time Jing Yijun left, it was nearly dusk. Not long after she departed, Yin Ruxin and Yin Ruyun, both clad in plain mourning clothes, approached Yang Yaozong’s bedside. Yang Yaozong noticed their eyes were swollen and red, clear signs they had been crying recently.

Yin Ruxin gazed at Yang Yaozong with eyes full of gratitude and deep affection, her voice gentle as she spoke, “I know what you wish to ask, what you wish to know. Your internal injuries are severe, so I have prepared a medicinal bath for you. Let me take you to soak in it first, and once you’re better, I will tell you everything.”

Yang Yaozong nodded in agreement.

Yin Ruxin glanced at Yin Ruyun, who, slightly embarrassed, stepped forward and cradled Yang Yaozong in her arms to carry him from the bed.

Yang Yaozong, never fond of being carried by a woman, struggled and protested hurriedly, “No need, I can walk. I’m not that fragile.”

Yin Ruyun, carrying him out with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance, retorted, “You think I want to carry you?”

Yin Ruxin followed behind, admonishing, “Be obedient. Sister is doing this for your own good. Once you’ve finished the medicinal bath, I’ll help you back myself.”

Yang Yaozong pouted, as if suffering some great grievance, and finally quieted down.

Seeing his aggrieved expression, Yin Ruyun was both exasperated and tempted to simply drop him, injuries or not, and let him smash into pieces on the floor.

In the warm, mist-filled bathhouse, Yang Yaozong lounged with his eyes half-shut, thoroughly enjoying the medicinal soak and Yin Ruxin’s skillful massage.

Yin Ruyun, dressed in light pink underclothes, stood outside the bath barrel. She carefully examined Yang Yaozong’s body; apart from some wounds on his head, there were no visible injuries elsewhere—save for a large patch of bruising on his back, clear evidence of a heavy blow. Observing this, Yin Ruxin immediately understood his internal injuries must have come from that strike. The thought of the pain and torment Yang Yaozong had endured brought tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

Sensing Yin Ruxin’s shift in mood, Yang Yaozong took her delicate hand and drew her close to the edge of the bath, softly reassuring her, “It’s all right now. I’m safe and by your side, aren’t I?”

Yin Ruxin nodded, then slowly leaned down to rest on the edge of the tub, gently rubbing his large hand against her cheek, her eyes misty and tender. “Before I met you, I never imagined what my future husband would be like. After meeting you and becoming close, I started to dream of a husband—someone humorous, unrestrained, and talented like you. Since opening my heart to you, you’ve become so busy, but each time I see you, I notice you change in remarkable ways. Every brief moment together, I never want to part. I know you’re always working hard for me, and that makes me feel so warm and happy. Today I realized even more that my man, Yang Yaozong, is not only a renowned scholar, but also a man of strategy, responsibility, and integrity. I’m proud of you. I know I’ve made many mistakes and caused you a lot of trouble. I know I was wrong, I…”

Thinking of all the trouble she’d brought the man she loved—including the incident where Yang Yaozong was kidnapped by the eldest prince, Jing Min—she blamed herself deeply, her heart aching as if pierced by needles, and tears once again streamed down her face.

Yang Yaozong gently wiped her tears, his voice soft, “You are my woman. Whatever you do, it’s my duty to bear it, isn’t it? What do you want me to do? I know you didn’t act for yourself, nor was it your intention. You, too, were deceived and used by the Prince of the Realm—you’re a victim. If your master is to be pitied, then I think you and your sister are the ones most deserving of pity.”

Grateful for his understanding, Yin Ruxin felt her heart overflow with tenderness, his deep affection nourishing every part of her being, leaving her fully immersed in the intoxicating warmth of love.

After the bath, Yin Ruxin helped Yang Yaozong back to her room. She was just feeding him some congee when Ruyi’s voice came from outside, “Miss, there’s a Miss Mu Qinghan here. She says she’s come to examine Lord Yang’s injuries.”

Knowing Mu Qinghan was a famed physician, Yin Ruxin gave Yang Yaozong a meaningful glance, then called to Ruyi, “Invite Miss Mu in.” She turned to Yang Yaozong with a teasing look, producing a delicate porcelain bottle and scolding coquettishly, “You certainly have no shortage of beauties—first a princess, now a lady physician. This bottle contains medicine for external wounds that your princess beauty gave me. I checked—it’s worth more than gold, far better than ordinary ointments.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now this Miss Mu…”

Yang Yaozong smiled sheepishly and explained, “The princess told me before she left that Elder Mu Chuchen would come to treat me. Perhaps the elder was busy, so Miss Mu was sent instead.”

Yin Ruxin bit her lip and eyed him with some indignation. “Oh?”

Sensing her jealousy, Yang Yaozong hurried to flatter her, “After soaking in the bath you prepared, I already feel much better and stronger. Why don’t I send Miss Mu away? I believe in your medical skill—give me a few days and I’ll be as lively as ever.”

Suppressing a laugh, Yin Ruxin sniffed, “That feeling of relief and renewed strength isn’t just from my bath. It’s thanks to your princess beauty exhausting her own energy to heal your meridians. My bath was just to stimulate your blood circulation. I was actually planning to let some blood to check its color—if it’s black, it would prove you’re a… a philanderer! Hmph!” She added with mock annoyance, “Our Miao medicine is not like your orthodox Chinese medicine. If I accidentally worsen your injuries, there’ll be a whole crowd of people heartbroken, maybe even wanting to kill me!”

A knock sounded at the door. “Miss, Physician Mu has arrived,” Ruyi announced. Yang Yaozong felt a wave of relief—dealing with jealous women was truly taxing.

Noticing Yang Yaozong’s furtive smile at her, Yin Ruxin wanted nothing more than to bite him. She shot him a glance and went to the door herself. Opening it, she found Mu Qinghan standing there, smiling. “Miss Mu, please come in.”

After introducing herself, Mu Qinghan was led into the courtyard by Ruyi, who had her wait while she went to inform the others. Mu Qinghan noticed the main hall had been arranged as a mourning chamber, with a coffin displayed in the center. A woman in mourning, her back turned, knelt before it, burning paper and weeping. Mu Qinghan’s heart thudded with unease. She recalled Qin Haizhou’s words that Yang Yaozong had merely suffered serious internal injuries—could something have changed? She couldn’t help but stare at the coffin, lost in thought, until Ruyi’s return roused her.

Mu Qinghan tentatively asked Ruyi, who led the way, “May I ask, Lord Yang… is he…?”

Ruyi responded with a puzzled “Hmm?” then said, “Lord Yang is upstairs. I’ll take you to him now.”

Relieved that the deceased was not Yang Yaozong, Mu Qinghan’s curiosity about the relationship between the dead and Yin Ruxin subsided.

Mu Qinghan had met Yin Ruxin a few times before, but always when she was dressed glamorously. Now, seeing her in plain mourning clothes and without makeup, she couldn’t help but be awed by her beauty. A woman who could be as enchanting as a red spider lily and as pure as a white lotus—no wonder Yang Yaozong was captivated by her.

Upon hearing of Yang Yaozong’s injuries, Mu Qinghan had felt some dissatisfaction on behalf of Nangong Qingyi, since he was recuperating here rather than at the Nangong residence. But recalling Yang Yaozong’s tacit acknowledgment of his relationship with Yin Ruxin, she could only sigh for Nangong Qingyi.

After nodding a polite greeting to Yin Ruxin, Mu Qinghan went straight to Yang Yaozong’s side. He smiled at her, but she pretended not to notice, instead frowning as she checked his complexion. She sat on a round stool by the bed, put her medicine box down, and began examining his pulse as he extended his arm.

Yang Yaozong, seeing her cool demeanor, felt as though his enthusiasm was met with cold indifference. Yin Ruxin, seeing the two of them, gave him a sly, fox-like smile, which only made Yang Yaozong glare at her in mock annoyance—though her delighted laughter only deepened his vexation.

Mu Qinghan, blushing slightly, turned to Yin Ruxin, “Miss Yin, could you please help Lord Yang remove his shirt?”

Yin Ruxin, though a bit shy about undressing Yang Yaozong in the presence of another woman, complied gracefully, exposing his well-built chest.

Though she had treated many men before, seeing Yang Yaozong’s bare torso now made her heart race. Her cheeks flushed, and she regretted agreeing to treat him in her father’s place. She tried to calm herself, recalling what he’d said while setting her bones: he was just treating her as a patient. She silently repeated to herself, “He is a patient, I am a doctor.”

Mu Qinghan, not wanting to betray her own nervousness, remained composed, pressing and kneading his chest and asking, “Does this hurt? What about here?” Watching for his reactions, she confirmed the extent of his injuries.

“Turn over,” she instructed.

Yin Ruxin helped Yang Yaozong lie face down. When Mu Qinghan saw the large, bruised, swollen area on his back, she asked Yin Ruxin to fetch a basin, then unwrapped a cloth bundle from her medicine box, revealing an array of fine needles. “If you feel pain, let me know.”

Yang Yaozong assented.

Mu Qinghan began the acupuncture, her hands swift, precise, and steady. Soon Yang Yaozong resembled a porcupine. Some of the needles caused sharp pain, but he endured in silence. Beads of sweat formed on Mu Qinghan’s forehead and nose as she finished the needlework. She then withdrew the needles one by one, and dark, reddish blood began to ooze from his back. Yin Ruxin helped clean the blood with white cloths. Afterward, Mu Qinghan applied a special ointment to the bruised areas.

When done, she asked Yin Ruxin to help him sit up.

Yang Yaozong smiled, “Miss Mu, you truly are a miracle doctor. My back feels much lighter and doesn’t hurt as much.”

Mu Qinghan remained serious, ignoring his compliment. “Sit up straight!”

He complied, and Yin Ruxin, anticipating what came next, picked up the basin.

Mu Qinghan, surprised by her readiness, nodded approval. “There were a few needles in your back that were quite painful, but you endured without a word. What comes next will hurt more. If you can’t bear it, cry out—no one will laugh at you.”

Yin Ruxin’s expression also grew solemn.

Mu Qinghan picked up a long silver needle and inserted it into an acupoint on Yang Yaozong’s chest, twisting and pressing it in while observing his expression. At first, he felt nothing, but gradually the pain became excruciating. He clenched his teeth, sweat beading on his brow. Mu Qinghan, satisfied he was at his limit, stopped. She repeated the process with several more needles. As the last ones went in, Yang Yaozong’s complexion paled, and his body shook with fatigue.

Yin Ruxin, feeling his pain as if it were her own, stood trembling, supporting him as he leaned against her.

After a quarter of an hour, Mu Qinghan announced, “I will start removing the needles now.”

As the first needle was pulled, Yang Yaozong was overcome with nausea. With each needle withdrawn, a wave of blood energy surged within him. At the last, he couldn’t help but vomit several mouthfuls of black blood into the basin. Exhausted, a heavy sleepiness came over him, but his body felt vastly relieved, the crushing weight on his chest gone.

Yin Ruxin hurried to help him rinse his mouth with fresh water.

Mu Qinghan, wiping the sweat from her brow, began cleaning up. “Most of the stagnant blood in your body has been expelled. With a couple more sessions, it should all be gone.” She handed Yin Ruxin two bottles. “The white bottle is ointment for his wounds; the blue one contains pills for his internal injuries—one each morning and evening. I’ll bring herbs for decoctions tomorrow. Please prepare them for him daily until he’s able to walk on his own.”

Yin Ruxin bowed in thanks, “Thank you, Dr. Mu, for coming to treat Yaozong.”

Mu Qinghan frowned. “No need to thank me. I am sworn sisters with Nangong Qingyi—helping to care for Yang Yaozong is my duty.”

Yin Ruxin recognized the deliberate message but only smiled and nodded in return. Sensing Mu Qinghan wished to speak privately with Yang Yaozong, she excused herself to clean the basin.

Mu Qinghan checked Yang Yaozong’s forehead. “You have a mild fever, which is normal. Don’t worry—it will subside after you take your medicine.”

Yang Yaozong forced a smile, “Thank you.”

Mu Qinghan repeated, “As I said, there’s no need to thank me. When I finish treating you over the next two days, I’ll be heading to see Qingyi.”

He frowned. “But your leg isn’t fully healed. Why rush?”

She replied, “Though there haven’t been any major battles at the border, there are constant skirmishes and many wounded. I can help ease Qingyi’s burden. And, Yang Yaozong, though I don’t know how you were injured, it’s clear someone meant to take your life. For Qingyi’s sake, take care of yourself—don’t let her worry about you from afar.”

Yang Yaozong nodded, smiling. “Then I must ask you not to tell Qingyi about my injuries.”

Mu Qinghan agreed, “All right, I promise.” With that, she left.

Not long after, Yin Ruxin returned, helped Yang Yaozong take the medicine, and applied more ointment to his wounds. “If you’re tired, rest. I’ll be here with you.”

Yang Yaozong smiled, “Miss Mu and Qingyi are close friends. She’s just straightforward—don’t be upset with her.”

Yin Ruxin shot him a playful look. “And if I said I was jealous, what would you do?” Seeing his awkwardness, she laughed. “I remember the first time we met, wasn’t it this Dr. Mu who slapped you?”

Yang Yaozong, realizing she wasn’t truly upset—only teasing—relaxed. “You little fox!”

Yin Ruxin huffed, “I actually like Miss Mu’s forthrightness. She says what she means. But I can see she genuinely cares about you.”

Yang Yaozong retorted, “She’s Qingyi’s friend. Of course she cares.”

Yin Ruxin blinked innocently, teasing, “I didn’t say otherwise. You’re the one overthinking! Hmph! After vomiting all that black blood, you’re clearly a philanderer! A philanderer!”

Once again, Yang Yaozong was left fuming at her playful taunts.