Chapter 115 “It’s a pill.”

Chapter 115: "It's medicine."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Jiang Congyan couldn’t put her feelings into words, so she simply stared at him without blinking. She watched him for a long time until her eyes began to sting; then, she quickly lowered her head, her gaze falling onto her wrist.

Maybe because he was used to rough work, or perhaps it was his first attempt at handiwork, the bracelet was uneven and crooked, like something a child might make. Yet it was this very clumsiness that bridged ten years of distance, carrying the most sincere emotion from his childhood.

A bittersweet ache welled up inside her.

Tuo Baxiao noticed her silence and fixed gaze, observing how delicate and slender her wrist was, her skin like snow—flawless even compared to white jade.

Yet now, this graceful hand bore a bracelet clumsily woven from dried grass, clearly too large and rough, looking mismatched.

Tuo Baxiao had originally thought this was a heartfelt gesture. For her birthday, he’d thought long and hard. Ordinary gifts like gold or silk felt insincere. He never placed much value on material wealth; if she asked, he would give it without hesitation. But how could such things count as gifts? After much deliberation, he had finally settled on this one token of his feelings.

At the time, he had hesitated. Making a bracelet for a woman felt too sentimental for a man like him. Even now, as he presented it, he felt somewhat awkward—such an act was entirely unlike his usual demeanor. Noticing her reaction, he suddenly felt uncertain.

"Do you like it?" He spoke softly, unlike his usual self.

Jiang Congyan paused for a moment, choking back emotion. "I love it."

She leaned into his embrace once more, her slender arms encircling his strong waist.

"More than all the gold, silver, and jewels you’ve given me before," she added.

Tuo Baxiao was overjoyed, hugging her so tightly it almost hurt.

He held her for what felt like forever before finally releasing her. Jiang Congyan adjusted the bracelet, shortening it slightly so it wouldn’t slip off.

She lifted her forearm to show him. "Does it look good?"

Tuo Baxiao: "...It only looks good because it’s on your wrist."

Though he’d made it, he couldn’t lie about its quality.

Jiang Congyan laughed—who knew he had a humble side? Usually, he acted so arrogantly, as if he were the greatest in the world.

That snowy wrist kept swaying before his eyes, and Tuo Baxiao was no saint. He immediately grabbed her hand and kissed it hungrily...

The grass bracelet couldn’t get wet, so every time she washed or bathed, Jiang Congyan would remove it and place it on her dressing table.

When A Fei saw it, she thought it was strange. At first, she assumed Mica had given it to her—it looked so poorly made. But after noticing her mistress wearing it for several days in a row, and the Prince of Mobei’s occasional glances toward it, his eyes brightening whenever he saw the bracelet, it dawned on her—had the Prince of Mobei given her this?

The idea made A Fei shiver.

It didn’t fit at all—how could such a rugged man have such a sentimental side? And yet, her mistress didn’t seem to mind it at all; in fact, she treasured it.

Having never experienced romance herself, A Fei couldn’t understand the joy in it, so she quietly swallowed her questions.

The grass bracelet was delicate. Despite Jiang Congyan’s careful handling, after a few days, it began to feel brittle. The rough edges chafed her wrist raw.

That night, after washing up, she thought for a moment and asked A Fei to fetch some colored threads.

Wrapped in a cloak, she sat before the warm brazier, a delicate bamboo basket in her lap filled with balls of colored thread. By the flickering light of the bronze lamps beside her, Jiang Congyan spread the threads across her palm, comparing which combinations would look best.

She studied Tuo Baxiao’s bracelet closely—there was a shape resembling a peach blossom in the middle—so she selected three colors: tender green, soft pink, and golden yellow.

Her handiwork was decent. In both her past and present lives, she had spent long periods confined indoors, unable to engage in strenuous activity. The ways to pass the time were limited—reading, writing, painting, listening to music, or doing small crafts.

After some trial and error, she figured out how to weave it.

Tuo Baxiao came out after his bath, pulling on his outer robe as he walked over. "What are you doing?"

Jiang Congyan looked up at him. "The straw bracelet is too fragile and won’t last long. I plan to keep it safe and make an identical one with colored threads."

Tuo Baxiao felt his heart swell with joy—she treasured it so much.

He grabbed a stool and sat beside her, watching her intently.

She sat sideways to him, wrapped in her cloak like a soft little snowball, yet revealing a pale neck fairer than snow. The warm candlelight gently bathed her, illuminating her delicate and tender profile.

Her head was bowed in quiet concentration, radiating a quiet calm that seemed to give him a sense of peace.

Suddenly, Tuo Baxiao recalled his childhood—sitting on the grass with his mother as she taught him how to weave bracelets. Back then, his mother had smiled too, as if all hardships had faded away in that moment. Lost in sweet memories, she had laughed like a carefree girl—the most beautiful she'd ever looked to him.

His mother had never told him about her past or the name of the man she loved. She had only said, "When you find a girl you love, treat her well."

"Don’t repeat my tragedy." She hadn’t spoken those last words, but Tuo Baxiao understood.

He thought, at least in this, he hadn’t failed his mother’s expectations. He had met the girl he loved, they had become husband and wife, and now they were happy.

Jiang Congyan tried once, and by the second attempt, the bracelet came out right—soft pink peach blossom petals, a golden center for the stamen, and the rest in fresh green.

She tested it against her wrist, adjusted the length, then trimmed the excess threads. Picking up the original straw bracelet, she compared the two.

"Don’t they look exactly the same?" she asked, turning to him with a touch of pride.

Tuo Baxiao put on a serious face. "No, they don’t."

"Huh?" Jiang Congyan widened her eyes.

Seeing her disbelief, he tweaked her puffy cheek. "Yours is better than mine."

"..."

So now he could tease her too.

Jiang Congyan rolled her eyes and put the bracelet on, admiring it for a moment. Just as she was about to set the sewing basket aside, she noticed a bundle of red strings inside.

Since she was in a crafting mood, she stared at him for two seconds, then cut a few lengths of red thread.

"What else are you making?" Tuo Baxiao asked, puzzled.

Jiang Congyan ignored him, focusing solely on the threads in her hands.

After some work, the outline of a knot that looked like a 'peace knot' took shape.

Peace knots came in many varieties—the one she was weaving was a Shakyamuni knot.

When she finished, Tuo Baxiao asked, "What knot is this?"

"A Shakyamuni knot," Jiang Congyan replied.

He thought it was just a passing fancy, but then she held it up to his waist.

His green eyes brightened. "For me?"

Jiang Congyan looked down slightly, her long lashes shadowing her eyes. "Mm. A Shakyamuni knot—to turn away misfortune and turn calamity into blessing."

Tuo Baxiao suddenly grabbed her hand, not even realizing his own strength.

The man shook like a volcano about to erupt, every muscle in his body quivering as he struggled to restrain himself.

Jiang Congyan winced slightly in pain but didn’t scold him, only murmuring softly, "I know you’ll face many battles in the future. These divine blessings are just fleeting hopes, but I still pray you can..."

"Turn bad luck into good, and danger into safety."

Tuo Baxiao could no longer hold back, pressing his lips to hers, his large hand enveloping hers completely—along with the Buddhist knot (Shakyamuni knot).

For these words alone, even through carnage and ruin, he would claw his way back to her.

Jiang Congyan yielded to his kiss until he finally pulled away, panting heavily, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his body rigid as stone.

It was her time of the month.

After a moment, he drew her hand to him.

"...Wait, let me put these things away first."

Tuo Baxiao had to let her go.

Jiang Congyan sat before the vanity, tidying up the loose threads into a small basket and setting it aside. Then she opened a drawer in her jewelry box and placed the bracelet woven from grass inside.

Tuo Baxiao recalled the gold, silver, and gemstone jewelry he had gifted her—she never seemed to wear them. Curious, he pulled open a compartment to see what she kept inside, only to find a small porcelain bottle.

Huh? A small porcelain bottle in a jewelry box was rather odd.

It was a slender-necked bottle, entirely different from the jars with wide openings she used for ointments.

Jiang Congyan caught a glimpse of the white porcelain from the corner of her eye, her heart skipping a beat. Instinctively, she reached for it, but the man got to it first.

He shook it—the sound of something granular rattled inside.

"What is this?"

Jiang Congyan tensed, her spine prickling as if every hair stood on end. But in an instant, she regained her composure.

"Just some pills," she replied calmly.