Chapter 6 Taking Him Home!

Chapter 6: Take Him Home!

Despite Lei Ding’s precautions—taking Wu Qiu’s pulse and administering all the medicine he carried—Wu Qiu still developed a fever late that night.

He had spent the entire night terrified and on edge; the tension that had sustained him after ensuring his mother-in-law’s safety finally snapped. Compounded by other factors, his illness surged uncontrollably. His whole body burned with heat, and he occasionally mumbled incoherently in his delirium.

The night was pitch-black, the dilapidated temple remote and isolated. There was no way to know where the two fugitives had gone, whether they had accomplices, or whether they might return—or even lie in wait along the road. After careful deliberation, Lei Ding concluded it would be unwise to leave Wu Qiu alone while seeking help from villagers, nor was it practical to guide both of them through the dark village paths in search of shelter. They had no choice but to endure there until dawn.

Lei Ding already knew Wu Qiu was a widower—but lives were at stake, leaving no time for concerns about propriety or physical contact. Too weak to move, Wu Qiu had to be half-carried to the fire for warmth. The only two thin quilts were entirely covering Yang Shu, so Lei Ding draped his own cloak over Wu Qiu.

The firelight flickered. Lei Ding saw the flush on Wu Qiu’s cheeks and lightly pressed the back of his hand against them to gauge his temperature. Wu Qiu’s lips moved, uttering words as faint as a sigh. Lei Ding withdrew his hand and leaned closer, holding his breath to listen. But the moment he pulled back, Wu Qiu’s voice trembled with a sob: “Don’t… go… please…”

Before the words faded, Wu Qiu’s body shuddered violently. His hand reached out helplessly—but he did not wake. The cloak slipped off with the movement.

Wu Qiu felt as though he were drifting through an endless dream.

In it rose towering floodwaters, his deceased parents, his mother-in-law lying deathly ill, and the village bullies and refugees who tormented him. Their faces swelled and shrank, flipped upside down, then vanished. Tears streamed ceaselessly as he ran desperately—yet could not escape this tangled, dizzying dream.

He wasn’t sleeping deeply either; he seemed to awaken several times, though each time he could not distinguish dream from reality. Once, he heard someone call his name and tell him to open his mouth. He obeyed—and a few spoonfuls of cool water were fed to him. Dully, belatedly, he realized it must be Lei Ding caring for him, and managed a weak “Thank you.”

The second time, he sensed the cold receding from his body. He felt something wrapped around him—and realized he was no longer lying on the straw pile in the broken temple. Warmth pressed close behind him. Just before sinking back into sleep, Wu Qiu caught a faint whiff of medicinal scent—the fragrance familiar, soothing, safe—and instinctively curled closer toward that warmth.

He seemed to recall something: in the carriage, because they’d sat so closely, he’d smelled the same scent on Lei Ding.

The third time he woke, wind howled in his ears alongside loud voices, and violent jolting shook his body. Wu Qiu’s head throbbed unbearably. He whimpered twice—and fell asleep again. Just before losing consciousness, he faintly heard someone whisper by his ear: “Don’t be afraid—you’ll be better soon.”

Then he dreamed of his mother again. She looked just as she had years ago, beckoning to him: “Qiu Er, come here—let Mother look at you. You’ve grown so big.”

Tears poured uncontrollably—but Wu Qiu couldn’t bear to spend too long wiping them away. He hastily brushed them aside and stared, unblinking, at his mother’s face. “Mother, I’ve missed you so much.”

He threw himself into her arms and sobbed, “I’m scared, Mother—I’m afraid…”

She smiled without speaking, stroking his hair and gently wiping away his tears.

When he finally opened his eyes fully, he found himself lying in a bed, his inner clothes soaked with sweat. Glancing sideways, he saw Cui Nanshan seated on the edge of the bed, holding a small white porcelain bowl. He was scooping up a spoonful of herbal decoction and gently blowing on it. Seeing Wu Qiu awake, Cui Nanshan let out a long, relieved sigh—as if a great weight had lifted—and smiled. “Praise the Bodhisattva! Dear child, you’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for a full day.”

Wu Qiu stared blankly, only remembering after a long pause to struggle upright and bow in gratitude. Cui Nanshan hurriedly helped him sit up, told him not to move about, fetched a soft pillow to prop behind him, draped a garment over his shoulders, and brought the spoonful of medicine to his lips—all the while comforting him gently: “Your mother’s illness isn’t serious either. With a month or two of rest, she’ll recover completely. She’s resting in the room over there now. I’ve asked Yue Er to help care for her, and we also have our servant, Mistress Liu, tending to her. Don’t worry. For now, stay indoors—lest your condition worsen. You can visit her once you’re stronger. Your illness stems from exposure to cold, anxiety, and inner turmoil. It’s not severe—you’ll recover fully very soon.”

Though Wu Qiu couldn’t remember clearly, he roughly surmised that Lei Ding had brought them back to the clinic to recuperate. His heart swelled with gratitude—and tears nearly dripped into the medicine bowl.

After all, Wu Qiu was a man. While he lay unconscious, it had been Cui Nanshan himself who tended to him. Now that he was awake, little Lei Tan was the first to rush in. Even before entering the room, his voice boomed from outside: “Mr. Wu! Mr. Wu! I heard you’re awake—you scared us all to death!”

Cui Nanshan set aside the medicine bowl, shaking his head with a smile. “This boy—still can’t shake his reckless, impatient nature. Very well, let him come in and keep you company for a bit. I’ll go to the kitchen to prepare some simple food. Taking medicine on an empty stomach will harm yours.”

Lei Tan was already peeking through the doorway. Wu Qiu quickly invited him in—and the boy dashed joyfully inside. Cui Nanshan reached out and tapped his head. “Keep Mr. Wu good company. If anything comes up, go find your eldest brother—or come fetch me in the kitchen.”

Lei Tan agreed and bounded into the room, plopping onto a low stool nearby. Wu Qiu asked him what had happened after their return. Lei Tan slapped his thigh—like a storyteller striking his wooden clapper—and launched into an animated, nonstop account: “Don’t even mention it! Yesterday was absolutely terrifying. I got up early and went to open the main gate. The moment I looked up, I saw our family’s carriage heading straight for the clinic. I thought, ‘Oh no—something’s happened!’ I didn’t even have time to run inside and call anyone—I just stood at the gate shouting for Second Brother and Father. Guess what? The driver wasn’t my eldest brother either—it was Yu Geer, husband of the village chief’s youngest son from Dayou Village.”

Originally, Lei Ding had been driving. The village chief’s wife, Mistress Li, and Yu Geer had ridden in the carriage to help care for Yang Shu and Wu Qiu. It was a light carriage—unable to accommodate anyone else—so no additional help had been summoned. Lei Ding wished he could make the carriage fly all the way—but fearing excessive jolting, he restrained himself, though anxiety gnawed at him. Unexpectedly, just after leaving the village entrance, shouts erupted from inside the carriage. Yu Geer cried out repeatedly: “Brother Lei! It’s bad! Brother Lei—come quick and look!”

Wu Qiu, who had been quietly unconscious, suddenly coughed several times, tilted his head to the side, and vomited the medicine he’d taken that morning. Lei Ding checked his pulse and deduced it was likely due to the carriage’s jolting and Wu Qiu’s extreme weakness—his body simply couldn’t withstand it. But Yu Geer, naturally timid, was instantly terrified out of his wits. Fearing something terrible might happen to Wu Qiu, he insisted on switching places—he would drive, and Lei Ding would remain in the carriage to care for Wu Qiu.

So Lei Ding stayed in the carriage, supporting Wu Qiu’s body and letting him lean halfway against his chest so he wouldn’t lie too flat. Wu Qiu seemed slightly conscious, letting out a few weak moans. Lei Ding untied the leather water flask from his waist and let him sip a little water to rinse his mouth. Though still dazed, Wu Qiu obediently took the water. As Lei Ding gently gathered his disheveled hair, he whispered softly by his ear: “Rinse your mouth—and spit it out.”

Wu Qiu obediently complied again.

It was truly heartbreaking. Lei Ding was not a man of many words. Compared to idle talk, he valued practical action far more—giving most people the impression of being taciturn. Now, knowing Wu Qiu likely couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t help but murmur reassurance to the person in his arms: “Don’t be afraid. We’ll be home soon. It’ll be over quickly.”

Lei Tan shook his head repeatedly at the exciting part of the story. “Mr. Wu, you don’t know—Yu Geer is *so* timid! I saw his face turn pale, tears almost welling up—and it scared me so much I didn’t know what to do either. Later, Father kept teasing me, saying I usually seem fearless—but freeze up when something actually happens.”

Hearing his lively retelling, Wu Qiu felt much better—and smiled, lowering his head.

Seeing him smile, Lei Tan giggled along. Just as they were enjoying themselves, Lei Ding’s voice sounded from outside the door: “Is Mr. Wu awake? May I come in to check your pulse?”

Wu Qiu was already dressed and hurriedly invited Lei Ding in. After exchanging a few polite words, Lei Ding gently rolled up Wu Qiu’s sleeve. Seeing the fading scars on his pale wrist, he first took out a small box of ointment from his robe and slowly applied it to the wounds.

Lei Ding’s hands were bony and distinct—lean and strong. Given how effortlessly he’d subdued Zhao Wu at the broken temple, Wu Qiu imagined the strength in those hands must be formidable. Yet his movements while applying the ointment were extraordinarily gentle—as if afraid of causing pain. Finally, he placed the ointment box beside Wu Qiu’s bed. “Remember to apply it twice daily. If you have other injuries, use it there too. They’ll heal within a few days.”

Wu Qiu felt another wave of anxiety. Penniless, he relied entirely on the Lei family’s kindness for shelter and aid. Though small, the porcelain jar containing the ointment was exquisitely crafted—he assumed it must contain precious medicine and dared not accept it outright. Lei Ding seemed to read his thoughts and smiled faintly. “Mr. Wu—please use it with peace of mind.”

Wu Qiu lowered his head in thanks. “Thank you, Young Master Lei.”

Lei Ding shook his head. “It’s my duty. No thanks are needed, Langjun.” He paused, as if considering for a moment, before continuing. “Since Langjun is staying here, there’s no need to be so formal with us. My courtesy name is ‘Liang Ye.’ You may address me as such.”

Lei Tan nodded eagerly. “Exactly! I don’t know how old you are, Mr. Wu—if you’re younger than my eldest brother, you can just call him ‘Brother Lei.’ Many close friends do.”

Just then, Cui Nanshan entered carrying a food box. “Oh my—why is the room so crowded? Xiao Qiu has just woken up, and you’re making such a racket around him!” He sat by the bed and opened the food box. Inside sat a bowl of shredded pork congee topped with a poached egg, alongside two refreshing cold side dishes. Cui Nanshan stirred the congee with a spoon and instinctively moved to feed Wu Qiu. Embarrassed, Wu Qiu took the spoon himself and began gently blowing on it.

Lei Tan, sitting nearby, propped his chin and laughed. “Father always coaxes the little children who come to the clinic to take medicine. Now even Brother Qiu has become a child.”

Cui Nanshan pinched Lei Tan’s cheek. “How old is Xiao Qiu this year? I think he looks even younger than Ting Er—surely still a child?”

Wu Qiu smiled. “I’ll be twenty-seven after the Start of Autumn. How can I still be considered a child? I’m simply grateful for your care, Langjun.”

Though their acquaintance was brief, Cui Nanshan genuinely cherished Wu Qiu from the bottom of his heart—finding his gentle nature, politeness, and likable character deeply endearing. He gazed at Wu Qiu repeatedly, couldn’t help reaching out to stroke his hair—and sighed. “Poor thing—you’ve grown so thin wandering outside. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a proper meal. Eating rich, heavy food right now wouldn’t suit you—your stomach couldn’t digest it. So for these couple of days, stick to congee, noodles, and such. Once your stomach adjusts, we’ll nourish you properly.”

Tears welled in Wu Qiu’s eyes. The accumulated grief and fear since fleeing home threatened to spill over—but mindful of the others present, he was too embarrassed to weep openly. Lei Ding, standing nearby, saw him lift his head—using a smile to mask his tears, his eyes shimmering with unshed moisture. It pierced Lei Ding’s heart even deeper. He thought it might be better to step out first—letting Wu Qiu have a good cry rather than bottling it up and worsening his illness. So he called Lei Tan, and the two of them left Wu Qiu’s room.

Once outside, they both sighed deeply. Lei Tan, with a child’s temperament, shifted moods quickly. Moments earlier, he’d nearly cried alongside Wu Qiu—now he remembered something else. “Wasn’t that wound ointment the one you had me prepare just the other day, following the prescription you wrote? You said Miss Liu from the Liu family burned her hand with lamp oil and needed it for healing and scar removal. Why wasn’t it delivered to the Liu family after all?”

Lei Ding merely smiled. “The Liu family’s servant came by and only took some ordinary golden wound medicine. This ointment uses top-grade ingredients throughout. Leaving it unused would only diminish its potency. Better to give it to Qiu Geer—it’s just as well.”

Lei Tan had a gut feeling the truth wasn’t quite that—but couldn’t spot a flaw in the explanation just yet, so he let it go and returned to his own room. By now, it was dark, and the clinic was closed. Unless a patient arrived with a nighttime emergency, no further visits were needed. Yet Lei Ding didn’t return to his bedroom. Instead, he went back to the study, sat down, and casually picked up a book. Tucked inside was a prescription listing over a dozen medicinal ingredients—sanqi, dragon bone, bai ji, borneol, and more. Some were circled, others crossed out; quantities were listed beneath each, accompanied by numerous scribbles and corrections.

This was a formula Lei Ding had been refining for several days—consulting countless medical texts and ancient records to adjust.

The candle flame flickered. Lei Ding ground ink, dipped his brush, pondered briefly—and murmured: “Metal completes its number at nine, and the qi harmonizes. The season of nine harmonies is autumn.”

He lifted his brush and inscribed the three characters “Jiu He Fang” (Nine Harmonies Formula) onto the prescription. He stared at it for a long time before slipping it back between the pages of the book—and blew out the study lamp.

There *was*, indeed, a wealthy Liu family in Yongning City. Yet the Liu family had sent no one to the clinic recently. Lei Tan rarely ventured out and knew nothing of affairs within such secluded, deep-set mansions. Master Liu had two sons and one *gelang*—but no daughters. There was no “Miss Liu” in the Liu family. From the outset, this prescription of Lei Ding’s had been intended for another purpose entirely.

Author’s Note:

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Lei Ding: Of course I’ll use the best materials to make wound medicine for my wife!

Lei Tan: I feel like you’re hiding something from me [?]