Qin Wangchuan's Rescue Plan Begins!

Qin Wangchuan walked across the courtyard and pushed open the half-closed door.

The master leaned against the headboard, his face still sallow, but he looked more energetic than the last time I saw him.

Seeing Qin Wangchuan enter, his eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth slowly curved into a smile.

"The Wangchuan has arrived."

"Here it is, I brought the medicine."

Qin Wangchuan placed the medicine pot on the table and then took a small potted plant from the basket and placed it on the windowsill.

The teacher glanced at the potted plant. "Forget about the medicine, why bring this little thing?"

"It's lush and green, it's pleasing to the eye, and it helps heal faster," Qin Wangchuan explained.

What he didn't say was that Gathering Spirit Talisman was pasted under the potted plant, so the gathering of Spiritual Qi was better than nothing.

I opened the medicine jar and ladled out a small bowlful.

The master didn't ask what it was, took it, tilted his head back, and drank it down without even frowning, as if it were a bowl of water.

After finishing his drink, he handed the bowl back and wiped his mouth.

Qin Wangchuan observed carefully and nodded after finding nothing unusual.

Clean up the dishes and jars, and pour the dregs of the medicine into the basket.

The master leaned against the headboard, tilting his head to look at him.

He thought to himself, "Wangchuan seems so ordinary on the surface, but he keeps everything bottled up inside."

The child will probably be sad after I leave.

Thinking about this, I started to worry.

"The Wangchuan," the Master began, his voice soft.

Qin Wangchuan turned around.

"Birth, aging, sickness, and death are the natural course of life. You don't need to remember me now that I'm gone." The Master paused, as if considering his words. "I've already told them not to erect a monument for me."

"If it's gone, it's gone. What's the point of a monument? It's too painful for future generations to remember it."

"Remembering it for a while is enough; as time goes by, you should forget about it."

"Master," Qin Wangchuan said, "Having something to look at gives you something to look forward to."

In fact.

Qin Wangchuan has already seen many friends off.

Han Han, Yuniang, Tan Lingfei —one by one, they vanished before his eyes.

Especially Tan Lingfei, that mixed-race guy.

He buried it himself.

It's good to have something to look forward to.

The Master understood that look in his eyes, his eyes twitched slightly, but he remained silent.

He stared at Qin Wangchuan for a long while, then suddenly burst out laughing.

That wasn't a happy laugh.

In the days that followed, Qin Wangchuan delivered medicine daily, adjusting the dosage according to the master's condition.

Be extremely careful, like groping for an unseen path in the dark.

After a month, the teacher's complexion improved.

Her sallow complexion had faded somewhat, replaced by a rosy glow, and her voice was louder than before.

Qin Wangchuan saw this and finally felt relieved.

But taking medicine alone is not enough.

He began practicing acupuncture, and also—alchemy.

Herbal decoctions are never as effective as elixirs.

She learned acupuncture quickly; she could twirl the silver needles between her fingers and prick the cloth bag hundreds of times, finding the acupoints even with her eyes closed.

The problem lies in alchemy.

Alchemy, alchemy—nothing is easier said than done.

The furnace, the heat, the combination of medicinal herbs, and the catalyst for the elixir—none of these can be mastered simply by reading a few books.

This period has been tough for Zhou Heng.

He forges iron during the day, gets needled by Qin Wangchuan in the afternoon, and has to go home to cultivate at night.

I'm busy, but I feel at peace.

He felt he was doing the right thing.

Just thinking--

"Oops!"

In the Qin Clan Courtyard, Zhou Heng's face suddenly twisted.

His lips were slanted upwards, half his face was frozen, and he spoke with a lisp, "Where did you stab me??"

He cursed as he touched his face, his expression filled with panic.

It feels like half of my face doesn't belong to me anymore.

"Don't be afraid," Qin Wangchuan said, inserting a needle an inch behind his ear.

The silver needle was twirled, and Zhou Heng's facial muscles twitched a few times before returning to normal.

"Hey!" Zhou Heng touched his face, stroking it left and right, his expression full of curiosity. "You know what, this thing is pretty amazing."

He paused, hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help pointing to the side of his face that had been tilted:

"Try inserting the needle into that spot again."

Qin Wangchuan glanced at him, said nothing, and inserted the needle.

Zhou Heng's face twisted again.

His lips were smirking, his eyelids were twitching, and his speech was even more slurred than last time. "Back, back, back, hurry back--!"

Qin Wangchuan withdrew the silver needle and inserted it again.

His face is straight again.

"Truly amazing."

Zhou Heng rubbed his cheek, grimacing, but his eyes were bright.

"However," he said, "Is this thing really effective for the Master's illness?"

"It works," Qin Wangchuan said with certainty.

Zhou Heng muttered something to himself but didn't say anything.

Clearly, they don't believe it.

The two were receiving acupuncture when Qin Zhaoer walked in carrying a food tray.

She glanced at Zhou Heng and said irritably, "What are you doing here?"

Zhou Heng raised his head Qi Ingestion: "What's wrong with me?"

Qin Zhaoer didn't respond, she just placed the food tray on the table.

Qin Wangchuan glanced at it and saw a bowl of noodles with two steamed buns next to it.

She placed the bowl of noodles in front of Qin Wangchuan:

"You eat this."

He then placed the plate of steamed buns on the table in front of Zhou Heng.

"You eat this."

After thinking for a moment, he took another one from the plate and handed it to Qin Wangchuan.

After doing all this, she nodded in satisfaction.

Zhou Heng looked down at the lone steamed bun in front of him, then at the bowl of noodles in front of Qin Wangchuan, and then at the extra steamed bun beside him. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer:

"What's the meaning?"

Qin Zhaoer immediately made a face at him. "You're incredibly lucky to be able to eat something made by me."

"But I'm warning you, if you dare steal his food, you're dead! Hmph~"

After saying that, she turned and walked away, her steps light and quick, her skirt fluttering in the wind.

Zhou Heng picked up the lone steamed bun, took a vicious bite, chewed it twice, and turned to look at Qin Wangchuan:

"I remember she wasn't like this before, has she changed?"

Qin Wangchuan shook his head, indicating that he knew nothing about it either.

During this time, Qin Zhaoer kept bringing food to feed them.

That's good, it saves us the trouble of eating out.

He placed another steamed bun in front of Zhou Heng and looked down at the bowl of noodles in front of him.

Steaming hot, with thin, white noodles and a clear broth.

I initially thought it was made by Wen's mother, but now it seems—it was actually made by Eighth Sister.

He picked up his chopsticks, took a bite of noodles, and put it in his mouth.

The taste wasn't particularly good, but it was hot.

Before he had finished his bowl of noodles, a woman's voice suddenly came from outside the courtyard gate.

"Is this a blacksmith's workshop?"

Zhou Heng turned his head and saw a middle-aged woman with a headscarf standing at the door, carrying a cloth bag in her hand, peeking inside.

"Here it is. What do you want to fight?" Zhou Heng went up to him.

The woman kept rambling on, saying that she had a knife that she had used for several years, and the blade was chipped in several places, so she had to saw back and forth to cut vegetables.

I just want to fix it; as long as it works, that's fine.

Zhou Heng took the knife, flipped it over to look at it, and nodded. "Come pick it up in a day."

The woman thanked her repeatedly and turned to leave.

Zhou Heng glanced at Qin Wangchuan, who was eating and flipping through a book by the stone table, and silently walked into the backyard.

It's time to get to work.

I haven't even finished yesterday's work.

What was originally Qin Wangchuan's blacksmith shop, run by one person, has now become a partnership between two people.

One was reading books, preparing medicine, and administering acupuncture; the other was wielding a hammer, forging iron, and receiving customers.

They just naturally connected like that.

The hammer fell one blow after another, clang clang clang, the sound echoing in the yard like a heartbeat.

White Dew lay under the Jujube Tree, her ears twitched, but her eyes remained closed.

Another month has passed.

Before the acupuncture treatment could even begin, the master's illness suddenly worsened.

When Qin Wangchuan arrived at the alley entrance, he could hear coughing coming from inside the house, one cough after another.

He quickened his pace and pushed open the door. The doctor was coming out of the inner room, carrying a medicine box, and looked unwell.

The two met briefly in the main room.

Qin Wangchuan called out to him, "Wasn't Master much better before? How come suddenly..."

The doctor stopped, glanced back at him, and shook his head.

"Illness strikes like a landslide, without any explanation."

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, he silently closed it again.

Qin Wangchuan has been busy taking care of the doctor these past few days, and the doctor has seen it all.

I really want to tell you: Don't bother, it can't be cured.

But the words just wouldn't come out.