Chapter Sixty-Nine: Apologies and Reconciliation

Watching the four figures disappear into the distance, Ankang turned back, intending to comfort Anyi, only to find her cheerfully chewing on a stalk of licorice, not the least bit annoyed. Surprised, he asked, “Little sister, you’re not angry?”

Anyi spat out the licorice and replied, “There’s nothing to be angry about.”

“But that woman called you a country bumpkin,” Anjian reminded her.

“She didn’t call me names. She simply stated the truth—I am a country bumpkin,” Anyi smiled. In fact, she was quite content being just that, cherished by her mother and protected by her brothers.

Anjian snorted in protest. “That’s not true. My little sister is the most clever, capable, gentle, kind, innocent, and adorable country girl in the world!”

Anyi burst out laughing. “Second Brother, if you flatter your little sister so outrageously, people will laugh at you.”

“Who dares laugh?” Anjian clenched his fists, feigning ferocity. “I’ll teach them a lesson.”

Ankang reached out and tapped him on the head. “All you ever think of is using force to solve problems.”

“Didn’t little sister say that? Whatever works to resolve the problem is a good solution,” Anjian hopped away, wary of another knock from Ankang.

“When did I ever say that? You’re making things up again, Second Brother,” Anyi pouted.

“You definitely said it; you just won’t admit it now,” Anjian insisted.

“That’s not exactly what I said.”

Anjian scratched his head. “I don’t remember your exact words, but that was the gist.”

“What I said—”

“Little sister,” Ankang called, cutting short the siblings’ bickering.

“Yes?” Anyi looked up, noticing his serious expression. She pressed her lips together. “Elder Brother, what is it?”

“Why didn’t you compete with her? With your medical skills, you shouldn’t fear her,” Ankang asked.

“I didn’t compete with her, so she’ll only bother us these two times. She won’t come again. But if I had, she’d never stop creating trouble. Besides, Master always said that studying medicine isn't like studying literature or martial arts, where you can rank first or second. Medicine is vast and profound—even the most renowned physician cannot cure every grave illness, and a wandering healer might save someone from the brink of death. That’s what Master taught me,” Anyi replied solemnly.

“That’s not right. If a famous physician can’t cure the illness, it’s hardly likely a wandering healer can,” Anjian disagreed.

“What’s so strange about it? Master once told me a story. In a small town, there were two doctors—one skilled, one less so. One day, the skilled doctor’s mother fell gravely ill. No matter how he treated her, she didn’t recover. As her life hung by a thread, he realized he couldn’t cure her, but he didn’t want to lose her, so he invited the less skilled doctor. The second doctor checked her pulse, reviewed the prescription, added one ingredient and adjusted the dosage. After a few doses, her condition greatly improved. Master said that as students of medicine, we must remain humble, seek advice where we lack understanding, never be arrogant, nor seek to compete with others.”

“Physician Lu’s words are wise, and you have done well,” Ankang commended, smiling.

Anyi grinned and tugged at Ankang’s sleeve. “Elder Brother, I want to swing. You push me—push me high! Second Brother is mean and won’t push me.”

“If you go too high, you’ll fall. Little Huzi fell off the swing and bruised his backside so badly he couldn’t even lie down, only sleep on his stomach!” Anjian tried to frighten her.

“I’m not Little Huzi. I’ll hold the ropes tightly and won’t fall,” Anyi insisted, still tugging Ankang’s sleeve. “Elder Brother, push me high!”

“All right, let me push you.”

Anyi sat on the simple swing, gripping the ropes on either side. “I’m ready, Elder Brother.”

When Ankang saw she was steady, he gave the swing a push. It began to soar, and he pushed a few more times, sending her higher and higher.

After the Grain Full festival, several rains drenched the land, leaving everything damp. Finally, a clear day arrived. Anyi hurried to the Herb Garden and found traces of cutworms in the fields. At last, her insecticide could be put to use.

Anyi killed several caterpillars with the concoction, but she wasn’t sure it would eradicate the cutworms. She decided to treat only one plot, leaving the rest to be cleared by hand—if the insecticide proved ineffective, they wouldn’t lose too much.

Anjian’s little friends were delighted by the news and romped through the fields, digging with gusto and sending clouds of dust into the air.

“Be careful not to break the roots of the herbs,” Anyi reminded them.

“Don’t worry, Sister Xier. Big Brother taught us well—we won’t damage the plants!” several boys chorused.

Even if she was still uneasy, Anyi couldn’t drive them away, so she let them be, hoping the insecticide would work so they wouldn’t have to trouble themselves in the future.

Without precise instruments or laboratory mice to test the insecticide’s toxicity, Anyi could only use it and observe the results, carefully ladling it onto the roots of the herbs with a wooden spoon.

“Careful!”

Anyi, too absorbed in her task, failed to notice a cow whip on the ground. As she stepped back, she tripped on it and fell. Upon hearing a familiar voice, she turned to see Han Songyan approaching, dressed in a cerulean robe, the silk sash at his waist swaying with his stride.

Anyi was momentarily taken aback; she had thought he would never return.

“Is Sister Xier so surprised to see me? Did you think I wouldn’t come back?” Han Songyan stopped in front of her, reaching out his hand and teasing her gently.

Anyi ignored his offer of help, got up on her own, and stepped back. “That’s not what I thought.”

Han Songyan withdrew his hand, folding it behind his back. “I came to apologize.”

“You’re too polite, Fourth Young Master,” Anyi replied, eyes lowered.

“It was my lack of consideration that caused you distress. I feel deeply guilty and have reflected on it for days. I’m here today to apologize. Will you forgive me?” Han Songyan’s eyes were full of expectation.

“You did nothing wrong, Fourth Young Master. There’s nothing for me to forgive,” Anyi answered with a gentle smile.

Han Songyan’s lips twitched into a slight smile. “If I’ve done nothing wrong, then why do you still refuse to sell your herbs to the Benevolence Hall?”

“I don’t want Miss Cheng coming to make trouble,” Anyi replied, frowning slightly.

“Benevolence Hall is Han family business, unconnected to the Cheng family. She’s currently grounded by my aunt and won’t be a problem. You needn’t concern yourself with her,” Han Songyan said. He understood that Cheng Shuangshuang, raised in seclusion and spoiled by her parents, was ignorant of the ways of the world and unreasonably willful. For the sake of his uncle and aunt, he had tolerated her again and again, but this time, her interference in the affairs of Benevolence Hall had infuriated him. After that day, he realized she was utterly foolish. Even if he had once felt affection for her, he would now cut all ties—he could never marry such a fool.

Anyi only smiled, saying nothing. A mother’s heart is soft—she might scold her daughter one day and dote on her the next. How long could such confinement last? If she delivered her herbs to Benevolence Hall today, Cheng Shuangshuang might show up tomorrow with a group to cause trouble. Ordinary people should not cross officials, nor the poor contend with the wealthy. She would not risk her brother Ankang’s reputation for such a trifling matter; after all, he still hoped to enter officialdom.

“My aunt is soft-hearted and probably won’t keep her confined for long, but my uncle will soon send my cousin to the capital for the selection of palace maids. She will never return to Lingling,” Han Songyan said, sounding relieved.

Anyi raised her brows. Once one enters the palace, it is as deep as the sea—Cheng Shuangshuang would indeed never return. But if she was gone, there would never be anything between her and Han Songyan. “Doesn’t that sadden you?”

Han Songyan smiled. “She is my cousin.”

He deliberately emphasized the word, and Anyi picked up on his meaning, but their affairs had nothing to do with her. If there was no trouble, she was happy to provide herbs to Benevolence Hall, but her harvest was small and couldn’t supply two shops.

“Sister Xier, to be frank, several branches of Benevolence Hall have recently received large quantities of counterfeit medicines, suffering great losses. Money is a small matter. If a patient’s life is lost because of fake medicine, it is a grave issue. Please, help me,” Han Songyan pleaded, brows knit. After the incidents of the previous year, he was even more convinced that working with trustworthy herbalists was the only way to ensure quality. No matter how skilled the shopkeeper, mistakes could be made, and if someone acted with ill intent, they were impossible to guard against.

Most of the herbs Anyi supplied were common, inexpensive varieties, but their high usage made them essential. Because they were so common, they were often checked less carefully than costly medicines, making it all the more troublesome if someone tampered with them. This was one reason Han Songyan was so determined to have her continue supplying Benevolence Hall.

Anyi considered him for a long moment, noting his sincerity, and finally nodded. “All right.”

“Thank you!” Han Songyan was overjoyed and bowed deeply.

“It’s I who should thank you, Fourth Young Master, for your patronage,” Anyi replied, curtsying. “Thank you, Fourth Young Master.”

“That’s enough. No more thanking each other. Sister, I’ve boiled the water; you can come make tea now,” Ankang called, smiling from nearby.

“One moment; I’ll wash my hands first.” Anyi took off her gloves and fetched water from the jar to clean her hands.

When Anyi returned to the pavilion, Han Songyan had already brewed the tea and was chatting animatedly with Ankang. Seeing her arrive, he poured her a cup. “Sister Xier, Second Brother told me you used your insecticide on a patch of herbs. Can you tell me what you used to make it?”

“Decoctions of bitter vine and chinaberry seeds.”

Han Songyan stared in surprise. “Both are poisonous. How did you think to combine them for an insecticide?”

“What? The insecticide is poisonous? You mustn’t touch it anymore, little sister!” Ankang exclaimed anxiously.

Anyi laughed. “Elder Brother, all medicine is, to some degree, poisonous. Many herbs are toxic, but how many physicians have you heard of poisoning themselves?”

“No need to worry, Brother An. Sister Xier studies medicine—Physician Lu must have taught her how to handle such things,” Han Songyan reassured.

Ankang flushed slightly. “I suppose I was being overly anxious.”

Han Songyan then asked for details, and Anyi gave a half-true, half-fanciful explanation. His amazement only grew, and he became ever more convinced of her talent. “Sister Xier, I met a chronic patient in the capital. I hope you might offer me some advice.”

“Fourth Young Master, my studies are shallow. I’m afraid I can’t help,” Anyi demurred politely.

“No need for modesty. I sincerely seek your counsel. Please do not decline,” Han Songyan pressed, bowing.

“Little sister, though you haven’t studied long, Physician Lu says your skills surpass many practicing doctors. Not treating people might delay their recovery. Songyan here isn’t even asking you to treat the patient, just to advise him. There’s no harm,” Ankang added.

Anyi glanced at Ankang, sighed inwardly, and relented. “Please, go ahead, Fourth Young Master.”

“The patient suffers from itching on the inside of the lower leg, which, when scratched, becomes red and swollen, then ulcerates and fails to heal after a long time. The edges of the ulcer thicken, forming a rim like a jar, the surface appears grayish white, the pus is foul and dirty, and the surrounding skin is mottled with red-brown spots. His tongue is thinly coated yellow, with petechiae, and his pulse is wiry and rough. My diagnosis is damp-heat in the spleen and stomach, which translates to heat descending and blocking the meridians, causing stagnation of qi and blood, leading to this illness.”

Anyi considered for a moment. “Your diagnosis is correct. What prescription did you use?”

“I used Bi Xie Detox Soup.”

“Bi Xie Detox Soup treats damp-heat abscesses. According to what you’ve described, this is a chronic ulcer—so it’s appropriate,” Anyi paused, then revised her answer. “I think using the Tenfold Tonic Soup to nourish from within, combined with an ointment that draws out pus and promotes flesh regeneration, might work better.”

“What led you to suggest the Tenfold Tonic Soup?” Han Songyan questioned.

“Does the patient stand for long periods, over many years?”

Han Songyan’s eyes lit up. “Yes.”

“Chronic ulcers, also known as lower limb ulcers, commonly afflict those who stand or carry heavy loads for years. The treatment should clear heat and dampness and regulate qi and blood.”

Han Songyan nodded slightly and smiled. “Should the patient recover, it will be entirely thanks to you.”

“I’m not sure if I’m right, so I can’t claim the credit,” Anyi replied with a modest smile, sipping her tea.

Ankang watched the two of them, a dark gleam flickering in his eyes.

Han Songyan, eager to report the matter to his grandfather in the capital, hired an ox cart and departed that afternoon. Anyi watched the cart roll away, and a gentle smile appeared on her lips. He was truly an excellent physician.

The next day, Anyi inspected the patch of herbs treated with insecticide and found no new traces of cutworm damage. Realizing the solution worked, she applied it to all the remaining plots that hadn’t yet been dug over.

Anjian’s little friends were crestfallen—there would be no more steamed buns as reward.

Standing atop a small mound, Anjian put his hands on his hips. “Don’t look so glum. My mother is making buns at home. Go and eat, and afterward, we’ll go up the mountain to gather herbs. From now on, I’ll pay you by the pound for what you dig up.”

The boys’ frowns turned to cheers, and they raced toward the An family home.

Anyi didn’t want to sever business with Golden Fortune Hall without cause, but with only herself and her brothers, they couldn’t supply both shops. After discussing it with her brothers, they decided to mobilize the villagers.

After their meal, Anjian sent the boys home to fetch baskets and hoes, then led them up the mountain to dig herbs.

Anyi went to the Lu household to prepare more insecticide. With a good supply, she needn’t fear further infestations. But before she finished making the new batch, the rice fields were struck by a pest. The leaves yellowed, and the blight spread from the center outward.

For farming families, nothing is more feared than natural disasters or pestilence.

Luo Fugui stared at the rice fields, frantic with worry. By morning, two large blisters had formed at the corners of his mouth.