Who will heal my ailment?
The tender vegetarian eel, the crispy and fresh spring bamboo shoots, the soft and mushy winter mushroom bits, along with the sweet potato vermicelli cooked to perfection, with a slight springy texture. All paired with the secret chicken broth that had been simmered overnight. The freshness of spring, the beauty of autumn, and the richness of winter all came together in one bowl. The soup slid down the throat, leaving a lingering, soft, and delicate aftertaste.
On the canal, the waves gently rippled, causing the thin porcelain bowl on the table aboard the boat to reflect the shimmering light.
A servant gently knocked on the door. He saw an empty bowl on the table and his master seated at the desk, reviewing documents. He presented tea and cautiously inquired, “Master, the staff below are asking if there’s anything specific you’d like to eat in the coming days? It’s difficult to shop while on the boat, so they can stock up on ingredients now.”
The person at the desk seemed not to hear, continuing to review the documents. After having a bowl of vegetarian eel porridge in the morning, he hadn’t moved, working for over two hours straight. These documents had been sent urgently by express couriers, but no matter how quickly they traveled from the distant Yue lands, by the time they reached him, it was already too late.
Just as he dipped his brush into ink, his right arm suddenly trembled. The brush, soaked with fresh ink and yet to touch the paper, slipped from his fingers without warning, falling with a thud. The tip of the brush rolled on the paper, staining the letter he had just written with a large ink blot.
“…Master?” The servant instinctively stepped forward but didn’t dare assist.
The man slowly raised his left hand, clutching his right shoulder. He stared at the ink stain on the paper with a furrowed brow. His eyes seemed to harbor a faint trace of hostility. After a while, he regained his composure, though he did not mention it, and instead, with an impatient tone, offhandedly said, “For lunch, just bring that porridge again!”
“This…” The servant felt awkward but didn’t dare question further. He awkwardly reminded, “Master, that was the last bowl.”
Hearing the servant’s polite reminder, the master seemed to realize the situation belatedly. His already poor mood sank further. He reached out to retrieve the brush, but whether it was the brush being uncooperative or his arm intentionally defying him, the handle spun in his fingers and rolled even farther away.
A rare expression of frustration crossed his face. He roughly flipped over the inkstone with his left hand and angrily snapped, “Bring whatever food! Must I personally oversee such trivial matters as well?! Get out!”
The servant dared not stay any longer, much less mention such “trivial matters” as food and drink again. He promptly scurried out the way he had come.
After leaving the cabin, he bumped into the doctor who had been summoned to check the master’s pulse. In a foul mood, the servant stuck his foot out to block the “renowned physician” and sneered, “Oh, Dr. Hou, is it? You’ve been treating the master for several days now, making him drink medicine every day, yet not only hasn’t his condition improved, but the master’s appetite has vanished too!”
Dr. Hou, a hunchbacked elderly man, habitually kept his head low as he walked. Hard of hearing in his old age, he was startled when a boot suddenly appeared in front of him. He stopped in his tracks, looked up blearily, and repeatedly mumbled, “Ah, ah, Master Zhou!” He craned his neck, straining to hear, pretending not to know, “Master Zhou, what are you saying?”
Zhou Feng pursed his lips in frustration, gripped the sword at his waist, and nudged the old doctor’s shoulder with it. Leaning close to his ear, he shouted, “I said, Dr. Hou! Can you cure my master’s illness or not?!”
“Oh dear, oh dear! This old man’s not deaf, I can hear you!” Dr. Hou, shielding one ear, responded placidly, “This illness…it’s an old affliction! You mustn’t rush, you mustn’t rush…”
“You may not be in a hurry, but I am!” Zhou Feng threatened, “If you can’t fix it soon, I’ll toss you overboard to feed the fish!”
As the doctor watched Zhou Feng’s retreating figure, he muttered, “Ah, the emperor’s calm, but the eunuch’s frantic…”
Zhou Feng, sharp-eared and not far off, felt an urge to toss the old man overboard. But, recalling that even a skinny mosquito is still meat, he restrained himself. At least medicine was better than none, so he gritted his teeth and waited nearby.
Though the main dock of Dongchong Prefecture was bustling with ships, their particular passenger boat, tall like a towering building, still stood out, attracting attention. All day long, groups of children gathered to gawk and throw clumps of grass at the ship. Their master’s status was special, and they had been instructed to keep a low profile throughout the journey. Zhou Feng paid no mind to the children. However, today, for some reason, the usual gang of rascals didn’t show up.
Zhou Feng couldn’t resist glancing down and spotted a familiar boy looking glum. The two exchanged glances, and Zhou Feng, catching the grass clump the boy tossed up, asked curiously, “Why are you alone?”
“They all went to the Buddhist festival!” the boy grumbled, then turned hopeful, shouting, “I want to go up and have a look! Can I come aboard? Just to play for a while, I won’t stay long!”
Leaning lazily against the ship’s rail, Zhou Feng replied, “No!”
“Fine, then! Stingy!” The boy stuck out his tongue, spat, and ran off.
Zhou Feng turned around abruptly, startled by the sound of a shattered cup from inside the cabin. Soon after, Dr. Hou hurried out, muttering under his breath. Zhou’s expression changed, and he immediately stepped inside to check. He found his master, Yan Chang, leaning against the Luohan couch, his face dark with displeasure, gripping his longsword. At his feet lay scattered shards of porcelain.
On the table, a teapot pressed down on an unfolded prescription, containing at least a dozen or more ingredients.
No one likes to be steeped in medicine for years, let alone someone like Yan Chang, the Prince of Yue. Under the reign of two emperors of the Daxia dynasty, he had helped quell chaos, solidify the empire, and repel foreign invaders. While his contributions were not enough to be immortalized for eternity, they were far from insignificant. To reduce such a man to frailty worse than an ordinary person—what kind of torment was this?
Zhou Feng stood frozen, as Yan Chang suddenly unsheathed his sword and slashed forward with force.
The unparalleled sword, sharp enough to cut through iron like mud, was named *Quji* by the late emperor, symbolizing the removal of all ills across the four seas, and the safeguarding of peace within the empire.
“Master!” Zhou Feng shouted.
Yan Chang’s five fingers stiffened, and the sword, carried by its fierce momentum, flew out of his hand, landing with a thud as it embedded itself between the planks of the cabin floor. The blade was so sharp that its tip sank nearly three inches deep, reflecting a cold, chilling light.
Zhou Feng hurried over, pulled the sword out, and quietly put it away behind him.
“It’s yours,” Yan Chang said flatly, throwing the scabbard over as well. “Take it.”
“Master, what are you saying? This is *Quji*!” Zhou Feng was stunned, holding the sword, unsure what to do.
Yan Chang sneered, “*Quji*… It may cure the ills of the world, but who will cure mine? If I can no longer wield a sword, what use is it? Better to melt it down into a few pieces of horse iron, which might at least be of some use.”
Zhou Feng mustered the courage to ignore his master’s words. He sheathed the sword and hung it back on the wall. After clearing the broken porcelain and retrieving the prescription, he quietly said, “Master, though I’m just your errand boy, I know that those who achieve great things don’t necessarily need to wield a thousand-pound sword. Sometimes, they only need to move four ounces of gold with a single hand. And the ills of the world need not always be cured with a sword… Master, whatever you want to accomplish, all you need to do is speak the word. I’ll be your hands…”
Yan Chang looked up at him, his gaze neither warm nor cold, and stared for a while before gradually lowering his eyes to his own right hand. He interrupted, “Do you have anything else to say? If not, leave.”
Zhou Feng glanced at his master’s expression, hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly smiled and asked, “Master, there’s a Buddhist festival in Dongchong Prefecture right now. Will you go? Perhaps offering incense might bring some divine intervention and heal your illness.”
“How can one believe in such nonsense!” Yan Chang reprimanded him coldly. Zhou Feng let out an “Oh” and was just about to prepare to “roll” out, when he heard a rustle of sleeves, as if Yan Chang had risen from the couch. “…Fine, let’s go take a look.”
Zhou Feng immediately ran over to fetch a cloak.
It wasn’t the first or fifteenth of the month, nor was it Lantern Festival or New Year’s Eve. The Buddhist festival at Huanshan Temple had been specially scheduled for the consecration of a newly cast Buddha statue. Huanshan Temple had stood for over a century, and it was rare for them to host such a grand event. The ceremony would last for half a month, with monks from nearby temples coming to listen to the teachings. From a hundred paces away, one could hear the solemn and majestic chanting of hundreds of monks, the scene nothing short of grand.
Yu Jinnian had come out to wander, partly to shop, partly to enjoy the scenery, and partly for a personal errand. He hadn’t expected to stumble upon the consecration festival at Huanshan Temple. He wasn’t well-versed in Buddhism or Daoism, and after hearing a few verses, he’d usually feel drowsy. His current enthusiasm was purely for the marketplace festivities surrounding the temple.
Min Xuefei had gone off to handle matters, so they had parted ways early. Sui Sui, still looking downcast, was taken by Qing Huan to watch a juggling act. Only Min Mao, Su Ting, and a few others remained, trailing behind Yu Jinnian aimlessly. With the bustling crowd and all eyes on him, Ji Hong naturally worried. He had four or five guards following Yu Jinnian, almost as if they were ready to tie a rope around him to keep him close.
But despite this vigilance, a troupe of performers suddenly passed by, beating gongs and drums, and in that moment of distraction, Ji Hong lost sight of the young man. He recalled Yu Jinnian mentioning something about visiting a goldsmith’s shop, so he quickly sent people to wait there.
Meanwhile, he continued searching through the festival grounds.
On the other side, Min Mao, like a monkey let loose, had dragged Yu Jinnian through two streets, leaving Su Ting and Ah Chun panting behind them. By the time they stopped, they had reached the far end of the marketplace. The crowd was bustling, but the shops here were a bit more refined—calligraphy and painting shops, antique stores, and jewelry shops lined the streets.
It seemed that Min Mao’s collector’s itch had flared up again, as he insisted on buying some “elegant” items to take back.
Yu Jinnian had no understanding of such things. Min Mao, engrossed in examining a fan painting, was deep in conversation with the shopkeeper, arguing passionately about whether the fan was an original work or a mere copy. The festival was a time of joy for the common people, so the antique shop was sparsely populated. Yu Jinnian wandered around the shop and noticed a man standing before a treasure cabinet, staring at it for a long time without moving.
Inside the cabinet was a pair of amber glass cups. With Yu Jinnian’s limited knowledge, he couldn’t discern their value, but judging by the man’s expression, he seemed very pleased with them.
The man reached for the cup. The cabinet shelf wasn’t high, and he took hold of it easily. However, in that instant, a look of pain flashed across his face, and his arm stiffened. The amber cup slipped from his hand as if greased, and despite his futile attempts to catch it, he failed.
Yu Jinnian, quick to react, leaped forward and caught the priceless amber cup with both hands just before it hit the ground.
“Whew…” Yu Jinnian let out a long sigh of relief, carefully placing the cup back on the shelf. He remarked, “Beautiful things are always fragile. You should be more careful!”
Yan Chang lowered his stiff arm and muttered a “thank you,” preparing to leave.
Noticing Yan Chang’s awkward movement, Yu Jinnian asked curiously, “Is your shoulder injured? Did you get hurt before?”
Yan Chang stopped in his tracks, instinctively hiding his arm behind his back, and turned to frown at him.
Yu Jinnian gave him a quick once-over and said, “If it’s a dull, aching stiffness, you should stop by a pharmacy on your way back and buy some mugwort. Roll it into small moxa cones. Twice a day, light the moxa and use a slice of ginger as a buffer to apply heat to the area where the pain or stiffness is most severe. After the moxa burns out, slowly rotate your arm thirty times.” He raised his right arm and demonstrated how to rotate it. “Remember to move slowly and gently, don’t be too forceful… This method won’t cure the root problem, but it should make the next couple of days more comfortable.”
Yan Chang asked cautiously, “You know medicine?”
Just as he spoke, Zhou Feng rushed over, hurriedly calling out, “Master,” interrupting their conversation.
Yan Chang opened his mouth but found that the young man had already turned away.
Yu Jinnian, spotting a platform set up along the riverside in the distance, saw a large red banner hanging high above, reading “Flower Identification Competition.” The crowd below, filled with men, women, and children, was bustling with excitement. He paid no further attention to Yan Chang and his servant, and instead, excitedly called out to Su Ting, “Su Ting, Ah Chun, let’s go take a look!”
Su Ting, who always followed Yu Jinnian’s lead, said nothing and immediately went with him.
After much effort, they managed to squeeze through the crowd. Surrounding them were others who had come to watch the commotion, not knowing exactly what was going on. Yu Jinnian casually asked around, piecing together the general idea—the “Flower Identification Competition” was hosted by a local incense merchant. A platform was set up for anyone interested to compete. Since the host was in the incense business, the challenges naturally revolved around flowers and plants.
It was said that those who performed well could even win generous prizes.
At that moment, the competition had already reached its midpoint, and many participants had left in disappointment. Yu Jinnian found it interesting. Besides, flowers and herbs happened to be his strong suit, so he took a token and joined the crowd to give it a try.
The first challenge, though it had stumped a few novices, wasn’t too difficult. Participants had to identify various types of fragrant powders from among several similar-looking pinkish piles.
Most of these fragrances were also medicinal herbs, and as someone knowledgeable in medicine, these were familiar to Yu Jinnian. Incenses like agarwood, sandalwood, clove, and musk each had their distinct scents. Ingredients like borneol, angelica, bletilla, and sweet flag had unique aromas, and as for peppermint, white sandalwood, and camphor, Yu Jinnian could discern them just by their scent, not to mention the differences in their color and texture.
It didn’t take him long to write down his answers.
After submitting his paper, Yu Jinnian turned and smiled at Su Ting, who was watching from below the platform, flashing a look of pride that clearly said, “Look how great I am.” The sunlight cast down, illuminating his amber-colored eyes, which reflected a warm, soft light. His expression was youthful, yet there was something about it—an innocence mixed with confidence—that made him irresistibly likable. It wasn’t just the honest and straightforward look in his eyes; it was his natural charm, the kind that lightly tugged at the heart of anyone watching, like a tender hook pulling one’s soul up from the depths of despair.
Yan Chang clenched his fist, then slowly released it. “Who is this person?”
Zhou Feng let out a soft “Ah,” and replied, “Not sure. Judging by his accent, he doesn’t seem to be from around here…”
Yan Chang ordered, “Go investigate.”