3 Encounter with the Girl of Strange Illness (3)

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Oh no, in her haste, she had actually recited the contents from the storybook aloud.

Jiang Xiaoman, oh Jiang Xiaoman, it’s all your fault for spending every day at home, lost in those chaotic tales from the Three Realms storybooks. Father always said those were worthless books, yet you insisted on reading them.

…but they really are quite captivating.

Though she had been curious before—did the Celestial Maiden with pheasant feathers truly stop the resolute departure of the Celestial Lord Tianyuan with just that one line? The book said so, and she believed it.

It seemed to work, at least this person had stopped moving now, though his expression was far from pleasant.

“What did you say?”

His face was ashen, the atmosphere unbearably awkward.

“I-I was reciting from the storybook,” Jiang Xiaoman scratched her cheek awkwardly.

Ling Sicheng’s expression darkened further.

Without a word, he turned to leave, but suddenly seemed to notice something and asked over his shoulder, “Your illness… it hasn’t flared up this time?”

His words made Jiang Xiaoman freeze.

She hadn’t even noticed before, but in her panic, she had recited a long sentence in one breath.

She examined herself carefully from head to toe for any discomfort. But—there was none.

…

Just as Jiang Xiaoman was about to speak again, a sudden fit of coughing burst forth unexpectedly.

The cough left her jaw flush and nearly breathless.

In the past, whenever her illness flared, it felt like knives twisting in her abdomen; this time, however, it was a stifling sensation in her neck, and her mind seemed stormy and turbulent… could it be that her illness had mutated again?

“Stop pretending,” Ling Sicheng shook his head with a sigh.

After a moment, sensing something was amiss, he hurriedly stepped forward to check the pulse on her neck.

After coughing for a while, Jiang Xiaoman caught her breath slightly and, seeing the serious expression on his face, felt a flicker of fear.

“Is it serious?”

Ling Sicheng glanced at her sideways, his face gradually relaxing.

“It’s just a blockage in the Chengguang acupuncture point—nothing serious, don’t worry.”

He reconsidered thoughtfully. Previously, when he had tried to infuse her with spiritual energy, he hadn’t expected her internal strength to be so weak she couldn’t withstand it. The excess spiritual energy had temporarily failed to disperse, causing the blockage.

But the blockage itself was no great matter; it would clear on its own in about seven days. Usually, it had little effect. It was likely her recent tension that disrupted the flow of qi and blood, causing the coughing fit.

However, the sword-flying technique used by all in the Immortal Sect relies on this point to connect with the energy of heaven and earth. She would have to stay grounded for the next seven days.

Still, he was quite concerned about her illness not flaring up. Could her previous fainting spells have been feigned? Yet the blockages in her meridians were clearly real.

Why then, did nothing happen during their two encounters?

Taking advantage of the young man’s momentary distraction, Jiang Xiaoman grabbed his wrist, her slender fingers clasping tightly around the snow-leather bracer.

“Let go.”

Ling Sicheng glanced at her and relented, “Fine, I won’t leave.”

Jiang Xiaoman refused to let go under any circumstances.

…

Seeing her grip tighten, Ling Sicheng realized he was dealing with someone stubborn.

However, a new question arose in his mind that he wanted to clarify. He spoke softly, “Alright then, try reciting a long sentence again. If you do, I’ll give you the Demonic Pill.”

“Really?” Jiang Xiaoman’s eyes lit up immediately.

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes and quickly thought it through. Coincidentally, she had the same curiosity and doubts she wanted to test.

Clearing her throat, she slowly recalled a passage she had read a few days ago in the storybook: “The War God of the Cloud Sea roared angrily, ‘Evil fiend, do not run!’ With a sword strike that split the air, thunder flashed across the sky, golden light blazed forth, and the Western Demon Lord was struck down from the heavens into Xiang Lake…”

She closed her eyes, bracing against the discomfort, yet once again, nothing happened.

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Ling Sicheng looked at her and couldn’t help but smile faintly.

“Rare to find someone who knows the War God of the Cloud Sea.”

He lowered his voice and continued, “Before ascending, he was an ancestor of my Ling family. But his ten-day, ten-night fierce battle with the Western Demon Lord cannot be summed up in a few words.”

Jiang Xiaoman pressed her lips, remaining silent and waiting for him to fulfill his promise.

Ling Sicheng lowered his gaze, pondering for a long while.

Once a word is spoken, it cannot be taken back. But the Demonic Pill was a cursed item—how could he give it away lightly and let it be misused?

He sighed softly, accepting his fate.

“Your sudden illness was indeed my fault. Now your Chengguang point is blocked, preventing you from flying with your sword. Since it’s come to this, I’ll escort you back to Tuzhou.”

Jiang Xiaoman was clearly displeased with this reply and was about to protest but was cut off mercilessly.

“When I send you back, I’ll hand over the Water Demon Demonic Pill to you in front of Patriarch Jiang. Then we’ll be even. How does that sound?”

Jiang Xiaoman frowned, her mind racing.

…This man is quite cunning!

However, even if her father had the Water Demon Demonic Pill, it would be easier to obtain from him than from Ling Sicheng.

She smiled brightly, “Deal!”

* * *

October marked the transition from summer to autumn, and Jiangnan City was picturesque and enchanting.

With the Water Demon affliction dispelled, Yangzhou City returned to its usual bustling and lively state. The streets were crowded with horses and carriages, pedestrians thronged about, laughter and chatter filling the air—a truly vibrant city.

“Your noodles are here.”

In a local noodle shop, two bowls of minced meat noodles were cheerfully served by a waiter, the noodles springy and fragrant, filling the bowls with steaming heat.

Jiang Xiaoman expressionlessly picked up her chopsticks and slurped a mouthful.

The person seated opposite her was unhurried, not rushing to eat, instead repeatedly flipping through a stack of yellowed papers, studying them carefully.

Jiang Xiaoman was quite displeased.

They had said they would send her home, yet here they were on the third day still lingering in Yangzhou City. In four days, her blocked Chengguang point would clear naturally—could he be trying to renege?

Perhaps noticing Jiang Xiaoman staring at him, Ling Sicheng stopped flipping through the papers and asked, “Why aren’t you eating? Weren’t you hungry earlier?”

She retorted irritably, “Didn’t you say you’d send me home?”

Besides, even if she had been hungry before, she had eaten noodles for three days straight. And always minced meat noodles at that—Yangzhou was a big city, yet he never treated her to anything new. Not at all like her eldest senior brother.

Ling Sicheng’s gaze returned to the papers in his hand, flipping to another page.

“What’s the rush? Once your Chengguang point is clear, I’ll escort you back.”

At this, Jiang Xiaoman snapped off a noodle with a “snap.”

“So you mean when you said you’d send me home, you didn’t mean carrying me back?”

Greatly disappointed—after all this, she still had to fly back herself? She hated sword-flying; if it weren’t for the Water Demon Demonic Pill, she definitely wouldn’t have begged her father to let her go on this journey.

Moreover, her senior brothers and sisters, who had been knocked out by her medicines a few days ago, were probably frantic and searching for her everywhere by now. They might have already reached Yangzhou. If she didn’t get the Demonic Pill soon, she would be dragged back. Could she not be anxious?

Still, these past three days had made her realize something miraculous—somehow, when talking with this second young master Ling, her strange illness would not flare up.

So over these three days, their conversations grew smoother. Long discourses she once dared not utter could now be spoken with ease.

Ling Sicheng merely glanced at her coolly before continuing to study the papers.

Jiang Xiaoman chewed her noodles but kept her eyes fixed on the focused man opposite her.

She had many complaints but couldn’t help but be curious—what was it in his hands that fascinated him so?

Since the day he took the yellowed papers from Prefect Lin at the farewell, he had been reading them constantly—while eating, walking, even sleeping. They lodged in separate rooms at the inn, but she guessed he was probably still reading then.

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Finally unable to contain her curiosity, Jiang Xiaoman propped herself on the table and leaned in to take a closer look.

Ling Sicheng hadn’t guarded against her peek, allowing her to glance.

…

[Ingredients: One tael of Angelica, five qian of Ginseng, three qian of Deer Antler, two qian of Jade Bamboo, five qian of White Crane Flower, three qian of Silver Lotus.

At sunrise, gather the spiritual energy of heaven and earth in a jade pot. Cleanse the Angelica, Ginseng, Deer Antler, and Jade Bamboo in clear spring water and dry them. Separately, wash the White Crane Flower and Silver Lotus in fresh snow and dry them.

Grind all herbs into fine powder, then add to the pot. Calcine over a fierce fire for twelve hours, then simmer in the morning sunlight. The White Dew Pill is thus formed.]

—

This was… a prescription?

No way. To think this Ling fellow cared so much about her illness?

Could it be he had taken a liking to her?

Jiang Xiaoman blushed inwardly, recalling the romantic scenes of couples deeply entwined from the storybook. She couldn’t help but scrutinize the person before her and murmured softly, “Handsome, but not as interesting as eldest senior brother.”

Ling Sicheng only slightly raised his eyelids and asked coldly, “What are you saying?”

“I appreciate your kindness, but don’t bother. My illness can’t be cured.”

“…”

He pushed the yellowed paper he was reading toward her. “Take another look.”

Jiang Xiaoman took it and read carefully again.

At the top were the words, “For Treating Pityriasis.”

“…Pityriasis?” she said, confused and a little embarrassed.

“It’s a rare illness suffered by Old Madam Cen of Meixue Manor. Her body is covered in blue patches like scales, unbearably itchy, unable to sleep at night,” Ling Sicheng paused, “I was entrusted by Prefect Lin to visit the manor tonight to treat her. You should return to the inn and wait in Yangzhou city these few days. Once I’m done, I will come find you.”

Jiang Xiaoman was stunned.

“I’m coming too!” She slammed the table, making the noodles jump and the porcelain clatter.

What a joke—he hadn’t even given her the Demonic Pill yet, and he wanted to run off and renege?

Ling Sicheng raised his hand to signal her to calm down. “You don’t understand medicine. Don’t cause trouble. Listen to me and stay—”

Before he could finish, Jiang Xiaoman interrupted.

“‘Fragrant Plum Falling Snow,’ Meixue Manor.” She muttered to herself, “By the way, the Saint of the Qin has some connection with my family. Aren’t you really going to take me?”

Her meaning was clear: The residents of Meixue Manor must include Cen Sanbian, renowned in Yangzhou for the piece “Fragrant Plum Falling Snow.” His family always made friends through music, and the Jiang family tames beasts with immortal music; musical technique was also a required skill. If Ling Sicheng took her along, their mission would surely be far easier!

Ling Sicheng looked at her, silent this time, seemingly deep in thought.

It seemed he understood.

Jiang Xiaoman smiled inwardly—you’re just as inexperienced in medicine as I am, only patching up with a prescription at the last minute.

She pressed the advantage, closing in step by step: “Under the guise of a fake doctor visiting the Cen family at night, what exactly is Second Young Master Ling going to do?”

Seeing he did not answer, she knew she was right.

Coincidentally, one of her senior brothers had been a famous Qin player in Yangzhou before joining the Jiang Immortal Sect. He had visited Meixue Manor several times to exchange musical arts. She often eavesdropped on their conversations in the backyard and had heard him mention that the Cen family’s daughter was stunningly beautiful, as graceful as a falling fish or a descending goose. Many talented scholars used the excuse of musical exchange to secretly admire her beauty.

If this Ling fellow was pretending to be a doctor just to see the beauty, she wouldn’t be surprised—at worst, she’d laugh at him a little. But if he was willing to hand over the Water Demon Demonic Pill first, maybe she could even help him.

Just as she was seriously calculating in her mind, the man opposite her spoke softly, word by word:

“I’m going to slay an earth-level demon—Guiyin.”

Clatter—

The chopsticks in Jiang Xiaoman’s hand slipped down.