Chapter 129: The Argument

Chapter 129: Argument

Under the Imperial Tutor's watchful eye, Jiang Xun forced himself to write out the prescription.

He knew nothing about medicine—merely replicating the information provided by 66. Xue Jin watched as he lifted his brush and paused mid-stroke, muttering skeptically, "This prescription is rather strange."

Traditional Chinese medicine was usually decocted, but Jiang Xun listed many herbs, some to be ground into powder, others to be soaked in alcohol and distilled—all unorthodox techniques.

Xue Jin was puzzled. "Mr. Xun, this...?"

Jiang Xun replied, "Follow this prescription."

66’s database had undergone extensive trials—this was the best method to extract the active ingredients.

Though Xue Jin didn’t understand, he trusted instinctively and handed the prescription to a servant. "Do as it says."

Shen Que, sitting nearby, suddenly remarked, "Bold and precise strokes, hinting at inexperience yet full of character. For someone so young, Mr. Xun’s calligraphy is quite beautiful."

Jiang Xun’s hand faltered as he put away the brush and ink, the tip slipping and leaving a long ink stain on the back of his hand.

He wore a veiled hat, deliberately concealing his face, and used white gauze to hide most of his frame. He even lowered his voice, all to pass as someone older. Both Shen Xiu and Xue Jin assumed Jiang Xun was at least a decade older, well into his thirties. Yet Shen Que, evaluating his handwriting, called him "young" and noted its "hint of inexperience."

Jiang Xun had only seriously studied calligraphy after arriving in the modern era. As a student, he was more accustomed to using fountain pens—his brushwork was merely adequate. Though he had studied masters like Yan Zhenqing and Liu Gongquan, he had only mimicked the form without delving into their essence.

This level was enough to satisfy a warrior like Xue Jin, but against Shen Que, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Jiang Xun replied, "...I’m undeserving of such praise."

He hid his ink-stained hand in his sleeve, intending to wash it later, but Shen Que instructed a servant, "Bring some water. Mr. Xun’s hand is dirty—it must be inconvenient."

"..."

At Marquis Zhenbei’s residence, Xue Jin was the master of the house, while Shen Que, as his teacher, held even higher status. Without the host’s dismissal, Jiang Xun couldn’t leave.

He sat rigidly by Shen Xiu’s bedside, waiting for the servant to bring water. But when the servant arrived with a copper basin, they placed it before Shen Que instead.

Shen Que dipped his fingers into the water, swirling the washcloth.

He soaked the cloth thoroughly, wringing it damp, then folded it neatly. His hands, accustomed to brushes and memorials, moved gracefully even while wringing the towel.

Jiang Xun fidgeted with his concealed hand restlessly inside his sleeve.

Then, Shen Que took a clean cloth, walked over to Jiang Xun, and took his hand, bending as if to wipe it himself.

Jiang Xun startled. The coolness of Shen Que’s damp fingers made his skin prickle.

Unnoticing, Shen Que held his fingers, examining the ink-stained hand at close range—as if to kiss it.

Then, he pressed the warm cloth against it.

Shen Que said, "Both of your hands are inked. Cleaning them yourself might stain them further, so allow me."

"..."

Jiang Xun stayed silent as the cloth wiped away the worst of the ink, slipping between his fingers to clean the crevices. He shivered uncomfortably, only to notice Shen Que’s gaze lingering on his fingertips—

Specifically, the nail beds.

Jiang Xun abruptly withdrew his hand.

For those who know someone well, the hand is the best way to identify them apart from the face. The width and shape of people’s nail beds vary, as do the lengths and arrangements of their finger bones. Shen Que had often wiped Jiang Xun’s hands in the palace—a close look would be enough to recognize him.

Shen Que: "Mr. Xun?"

Jiang Xun felt extremely uneasy, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He still kept his voice low: "You honor me too much. I, Xun, am merely a humble man from the wilds, unworthy of troubling Senior Tutor Shen."

He stressed the words "Senior Tutor Shen," reminding him of his status.

Shen Que didn’t push it and handed him the towel to clean himself. Jiang Xun wiped his hands sullenly, his movements rough. After a few passes, the skin on his hands reddened slightly.

Shen Que's brows furrowed slightly before quickly smoothing out: "Come to think of it, Mr. Xun always calls himself 'Xun,' but we still don’t know your surname."

At this, Xue Jin also nodded in agreement: "Oh, right, right!"

The two had just been speaking in veiled terms, leaving Xue Jin completely lost. Now that there was something he could chime in on, he happily added: "Mr. Xun, what is your surname? I still don’t know!"

Jiang Xun: "..."

What a shame—my surname is Jiang. Which Jiang, you ask? The royal Jiang.

Jiang Xun coughed to cover his tracks: "...My surname is Lu—the Lu as in 'three-four-five-six.'"

66 tilted its screen, puzzled, on Jiang Xun’s shoulder.

Jiang Xun: "Sorry, 66. It’s urgent—I’ll borrow your surname for now."

66 floated up cheerfully: "No worries!"

If the system had a tail, it’d be wagging right now.

The first host to take its surname!

Shen Que nodded: "Mr. Lu."

As they spoke, a servant brought the first dose of medicine and placed it by Shen Xiu’s bedside.

Jiang Xun lifted the bowl, pretending to inspect it while 66 scanned all the ingredients, confirming the extraction was complete and the components effective. The screen beeped and flashed a big green checkmark.

Jiang Xun said: "Have him drink it. Please take care of Shen Xiu. If his condition improves or worsens, contact me immediately."

With that, he stood up to leave.

Shen Que rose with him: "Where is Mr. Lu going?"

Jiang Xun slung his medicine chest over his shoulder: "I’m going to check on the military camp."

Shen Xiu wasn’t the only one struck by the epidemic. In fact, the plague had been tearing through the army for days, infecting no fewer than a thousand people.

Xue Jin had established a camp in the western outskirts to isolate the sick from the healthy and prevent further spread.

Among the patients, some were severe, some mild—some coughing blood for days on the brink of death, others merely coughing without worsening.

They couldn’t all be treated with the same prescription; the medicine needed to be adjusted case by case. Jiang Xun planned to take 66 and examine them all.

Shen Que said sharply: "That’s not up for debate!"

Jiang Xun paused mid-step.

His reaction was too intense, starkly contrasting his usual composed and gentle demeanor. Xue Jin turned to him in surprise: "Mr. Shen?"

Jiang Xun had already stepped out of the door ahead of him. Concerned about the situation in the camp, he ignored Shen Que and simply said, "Master Xue, come with me."

Master Xue could only turn to him again: "Master Xun?"

Shen Que: "Master Lu, you’ve just arrived and aren’t yet accustomed to the harsh winds and cold of the northern frontier. Your constitution is already weak, and judging by your lean build, your foundation isn’t strong. If you rashly enter the plague camp now and fall ill, the cost would be too high. I suggest categorizing the patients by symptoms and bringing two typical cases for you to examine. Using similar treatments should suffice."

Master Xue agreed: "Master Xun, Master Shen makes a valid point."

Jiang Xun: "My constitution is exceptional—I won’t be infected. Moreover, lives are at stake. The Northern Di still lurks beyond the frontier, poised to strike, while the camp is ravaged by disease. Qingping Pass is Great Wei’s last line of defense. Beyond this pass lie open plains. How can we afford the slightest negligence in such a critical place?"

Master Xue nodded: "Master Shen, Master Xun also makes a valid point."

Shen Que ignored Master Xue and fixed his gaze on Jiang Xun, frowning deeply: "A wise man does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. Since you are a physician, Master Xun, how can you believe anyone has a constitution so exceptional that they are utterly impervious to illness? If you possess the means to cure, you must understand how crucial physicians are during an epidemic. The priority is to protect yourself. If you fall early on, what will we do when the situation becomes truly dire?"

Master Xue turned again: "Master Xun, Master Shen really does make a valid point."

Jiang Xun and Shen Que could bear it no longer. They both glared at Master Xue: "Shut up."

Master Xue: "...Oh."

Only then did Jiang Xun turn back, locking eyes with Shen Que through the veil of his veiled hat.

The white gauze obscured his expression, but Shen Que could sense the young man’s unwavering resolve, leaving no room for negotiation.

Shen Que: "Are you certain, Master Lu?"

Jiang Xun replied coldly: "Certain. You needn’t worry, Master Shen. As a physician, I know my own condition and whether I’ll fall ill. If I say I’m confident, I absolutely won’t fall before the final battle."

"..."

Shen Que closed his eyes briefly.

He exhaled softly, remaining silent for a long while before reopening his eyes. His sharp gaze had softened into resignation and gentleness, and he regarded Jiang Xun with an unreadable look, his authority fading.

Shen Que took a step back, dropped into the chair. He propped his forehead on one hand, taking a moment to steady himself before asking, "Then what if you do fall ill?"

This time, it wasn’t a debate or a demand, but a careful question. The Imperial Tutor asked softly, "If you fall ill, what should we do?"

Jiang Xun had always yielded to kindness, never to pressure—both in his past life and this one. Seeing Shen Que relent first, he softened as well. "Give me the same remedy you gave Shen Xiu."

Jiang Xun walked out briskly.

Master Xue glanced at his departing figure, then at Shen Que, who sat silently in the armchair with his eyes closed. After a moment’s hesitation, he crossed the threshold: "Master Xun, wait! Let me guide you."

The infirmary camp was set up in the outskirts, some distance from Marquis Zhenbei’s residence. Master Xue called for a palanquin to carry him and Jiang Xun there.

Along the way, he seemed troubled, hesitating several times as if wanting to speak.

Jiang Xun: "If you have something to say, speak freely."

Master Xue: "It’s nothing much. Just a reminder—the infirmary camp holds not only those infected with the epidemic but also battlefield casualties. Some have knife wounds to the waist, others arrow wounds to the abdomen. It’s gruesome—might shock you."

Jiang Xun wore a blue robe draped with white gauze, a jade pendant hanging at his waist and a sandalwood hairpin shaped like drifting clouds in his hair. To Master Xue, he looked every bit the scholar who’s never seen battle.

Master Xue hadn’t met many scholars, but he knew they rarely faced bloodshed—some even fainted at the sight of wounds.

Jiang Xun, however, replied: "I’ll manage."

Master Xue nodded: "Oh. Then if you feel dizzy or unwell in the camp, tell me right away."

Although Jiang Xun said it was fine, Xue Jin wasn’t convinced. He believed Jiang Xun would inevitably feel uncomfortable—it was just a question of degree.

Humans are innately afraid of wounds. Even someone as brave as Xue Jin couldn’t sleep for days after seeing the wounded from the battlefield for the first time. He didn’t think Mr. Xun would fare any better.

Yet when Jiang Xun entered the camp, he showed no reaction. He calmly examined each patient, and if someone was too weak to rise from their mat, Jiang Xun would lift the hem of his green robe and crouch beside them, unfazed by the blood and gore.

Xue Jin muttered, "How are you so composed?"

Jiang Xun replied, "Seen worse."

During those seven days after death, hadn’t every sight been bloodier than today?

With Shen Xiu’s data as a template, 66’s scans were swift. Before Jiang Xun had even circled halfway through the camp, the system had already examined everyone. After analysis, it informed Jiang Xun that they were all infected with the same disease, with no signs of mutation or progression—making it relatively easy to control.

Jiang Xun breathed a sigh of relief.

Following 66’s instructions, he relayed the prescription to Xue Jin and had him arrange for the medicine to be prepared.

Thus, the day’s work concluded. Jiang Xun and Xue Jin got in the carriage heading back. Leaning against the carriage wall, Jiang Xun rested his forehead on his hand and dozed off, only to notice Xue Jin acting restless again, just as he had on the way there.

Jiang Xun asked, "Is there something else?"

Xue Jin hesitated before whispering, "Is there… bad blood between you and Senior Tutor Shen? Both of you seemed really tense today."

In Xue Jin’s memory, both Shen Que and Jiang Xun were calm and collected people, yet today, they had both lost their composure and nearly argued.

Jiang Xun was momentarily speechless. After a pause, he said, "No, I hold no grudge against him. But… perhaps he holds one against me."

This wasn’t a lie. In his past life, he’d done Shen Que wrong, and in this life, he had detained him in the palace, ruining his good name. If Shen Que hated him, it was possible—but Jiang Xun harbored no resentment toward Shen Que. On the contrary, he felt deep remorse.

Xue Jin hesitated again before cautiously asking, "Then… may I make a request?"

Jiang Xun was taken aback. "What request?"

Xue Jin said, "Senior Tutor Shen is actually ill. Though he showed no signs of it earlier and appeared as composed as ever, he was putting on a brave face. Oh—I live next to him. Last night, the Tutor coughed so bad I could hear it through the wall. The maids who cleaned his room also said there was blood on his clothes from coughing."

He gave a bitter smile. "Right now, the city’s in chaos. The Tutor bears heavy responsibilities and hasn’t had a moment’s rest. He dares not show his illness, but I know he’s been putting on a brave face. If you have time… could you check on him too?"

Jiang Xun went still. "...What?"

Xue Jin’s letter had mentioned Shen Que’s illness, and Jiang Xun had immediately checked his condition earlier. Shen Que had seemed perfectly normal—his speech was clear and coherent—so Jiang Xun had assumed he had recovered.

Xue Jin pressed, "The Tutor’s condition can’t be delayed any longer. I’m really worried he might collapse. If there’s no old grievance between you, could you please see him?"

As he spoke, he cautiously studied Jiang Xun’s expression.

Mr. Xun wore a veiled hat, making it impossible to see his face—but his fingers white-knuckled as they clutched his robe.