Chapter 103 The Reclusive Young Master (Second Update)

A figure in azure entered, eyes the color of clear lakes, lips curved in a gentle, kind smile. That face resembled a scroll of fine calligraphy—mild and refined, pleasing to the eye.

“Young Master,” the innkeeper and the attendant greeted him respectfully, both letting out a sigh of relief.

“Uncle Hua, look how frightened you all are,” the young man teased.

A young girl emerged from behind him, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. Her hair was most unusual—a cascade of golden curls, tied carelessly at the back of her head, giving her an air of lively exuberance.

The appearance of this pair drew thoughtful glances from Zuo Qiu Liye and Dan Ying.

“I am Luo Hua, the proprietor of this inn,” the man in azure introduced himself. “I have been informed of your needs. Why not allow my attendant to help this young lady change into dry clothes and take a hot bath? The rest of you might enjoy a cup of tea and some rest. I will see to her treatment shortly.”

“That will do,” Wu Liye agreed, his gaze lingering on the golden-haired girl before he nodded.

“Please, this way.”

Once the others had left, the golden-haired girl approached Xuexue, gently calling, “Sister, are you alright?” She placed her hand on Xuexue’s feverish cheek, her worry clear.

“Who are you?” Xuexue woke slowly, feeling the cool touch on her face, her thoughts still muddled.

“Sister, you’re awake!” The girl’s eyes sparkled with delight. “It’s me, Yueying. Have you forgotten?”

“Yueying?” The name brought her mind sharply back. The voice was indeed hers. “It’s you. But why are you here?”

Yueying, once the regent consort of the city-state, had no reason to be here now.

“Well, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything once you’re better.” Yueying dodged the question, quickly changing the subject. “Sister, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into a hot bath. When you’re ready, Luo Hua can see to your health. It’s the dead of winter—you’ll catch your death like this.”

“Alright.” Xuexue didn’t press further; the clammy clothes made her miserable.

In the garden, sunlight danced across the pond, where lotuses bloomed in abundance. Each blossom stood proudly at the water’s heart, pure and elegant—like maidens standing tall and unsullied amidst the mud.

The lotus is the gentleman among flowers.

“It is still winter, yet your lotuses are in full bloom. You must have a rare touch, young master,” Zuo Qiu Liye remarked, gazing at the pond, his long, narrow eyes shining like stars.

Clad in inky robes, he resembled a flower himself—not the pristine lotus, but rather the noble, sumptuous peony.

The peony: the flower of wealth and honor.

“It is nothing,” Luo Hua replied with a courteous smile, his emerald eyes calm. “I have some knowledge of medicine and have studied the habits of lotuses. That is all.”

“Young master Luo Hua, you do not seem the idle sort or a mere commoner. May I ask who you truly are?” Dan Ying asked, watching the lotuses with apparent nonchalance.

Luo Hua simply smiled. “You think too highly of me. I am merely a leisurely man.”

“To the contrary, your attendant doesn’t seem ordinary either. She appears quite familiar to me,” Dan Ying said bluntly.

“I know not who Yueying was before, but here and now, she is simply my attendant,” Luo Hua replied without a trace of emotion.

“Luo... young master, the young lady has finished her bath and is ready for you,” Yueying’s voice rang out before she appeared, rushing into the garden with little of an attendant’s decorum.

“Slow down,” Luo Hua chided gently, steadying her as she dashed forward. “Forgive us for the disturbance.”

Zuo Qiu Liye and Dan Ying watched, their expressions unreadable.

The sun set quietly, painting the horizon with dreamlike hues.

Within the room, Luo Hua conducted his examination in private—no one else was permitted, his customary practice.

“You have only caught a chill; there is nothing grave,” he assured Xuexue after feeling her pulse. He studied her eyes, his words becoming vague. “As for your eyesight, there is little for a physician to do. When your heart is healed, your eyes will recover of their own accord.”

His words held hidden meanings.

“Young master Luo Hua, I too wonder when my eyes will see again,” Xuexue replied, her words equally veiled.

This Luo Hua was indeed different. They had exchanged only a few words, yet she felt at ease with him, as if he were a man like the lotus—courteous, with an air of depth. Was he perhaps a hermit hidden away in the mountains?

But why was Yueying here, and so familiar with Luo Hua?

“You are wise, so my concern is unfounded,” Luo Hua said, admiration glinting in his green eyes.

“Thank you, young master Luo Hua. If I may, I have a question: you must have heard of the Soul-Leaving Herb. It is said that harvesting it brings wounds from a certain venomous insect. Do you know what it is?”

“The Centipede,” Luo Hua replied. “A rare and precious venom when used in medicine, but a deadly toxin otherwise. The centipede exists for the Soul-Leaving Herb, and only the herb itself can counteract the poison. The herb is rare, but other medicines can delay its effects if the antidote is not available.”

“And if there is never an antidote?” she wondered, thinking of Ji Wu Qing.

“The Centipede’s toxin is slow but deadly. Over time, the body decays, and death comes miserably and horribly.”

“I see. Thank you for your explanation.”

“It is my duty as a healer,” Luo Hua said, standing up. “You must rest well, or you truly will be left with lasting illness.”

“Thank you.” She nodded.

After Luo Hua left, she curled into the warmth of the silk blanket, her mind hazy—she wanted nothing more than a long sleep.

Night fell, the darkness thick and the stars dim.

A gentle lamp lit the room where Luo Hua sat, reading scroll after scroll, his serene eyes never tiring. He reached for his jade tea set, but found the pot empty. Glancing to the side, he found the culprit drinking deeply.

“Xiao Ying, fetch another pot of tea.”

“Oh.” Yueying pouted, but there was little room for protest—after all, she owed him a favor.

Luo Hua smiled to himself at her reluctance.

Just as the door closed, a shadow slipped inside. “Young master.”

“How did it go?” Luo Hua asked without looking up.

“All is done. The message has been sent to Ji,” the newcomer replied.

“Good.” He nodded, as though everything was within his grasp.

Ji Wu Qing, you owe me a great debt.

The garden was silent, the lotuses solitary.

The flawless white blooms inevitably reminded him of someone—her face as pure as a lotus, her manner elegant and unworldly, her every smile and frown subtle and restrained. Yet, the clearer the image became, the harder it was to tell if it was truly her… or another.

“Master, as you predicted, Luo Hua is indeed suspicious,” Yu Die reported softly at his side. “There was a stranger in Luo Hua’s courtyard, likely a spy. And someone seems to have headed toward Ji.”

Luo Hua was not to be underestimated. As for Ji Wu Qing… he needed no intervention, not with Zuo Qiu Liye present.

“Let’s leave it be. I am curious to see what Zuo Qiu Liye does next.”

Elsewhere, Zuo Qiu Liye had just received the news.

“Any movement from Dan Ying?” he inquired, standing in the corridor, his long hair falling like a cascade.

“Prince Dan has remained inactive,” Yunwu replied.

At this, Zuo Qiu Liye smiled faintly, betraying no emotion. Instead, his thoughts shifted elsewhere. “I wonder how the medicine for Xuexue is coming along. Go and check.”

Xuexue lay curled under a brocade quilt, looking unusually small. She had slept for hours before waking sluggishly, head still heavy—this time, she was truly ill, nothing more than a simple chill.

“Awake at last, little Xue? I have been waiting quite a while,” Zuo Qiu Liye said as he entered, his voice low and touched with reproach.

“You’re right, I am at fault. But for you to visit my chambers at night—it is hardly proper,” Xuexue replied, too tired to guess his motives; all she wanted was rest.

“You wrong me; I have brought you medicine,” he said.

At his words, she did indeed catch a bitter medicinal scent.

She sat up, took the bowl, and drank it down in one gulp. She had little sense of taste, but the bitterness made her frown deeply—it was true that good medicine is always bitter.

“Thank you for the medicine,” she said as she lay back, her small face scrunching up in misery. The medicine was almost unbearably bitter.

Watching her, Zuo Qiu Liye smiled languidly. “Are you going to sleep now?”

“Suit yourself,” she replied. The bitterness cleared her head, returning her thoughts to the present.

Both Zuo Qiu Liye and Dan Ying were equally troublesome.

Dan Ying was holding onto her, likely to threaten Ji Wu Qing, knowing she was not the real Yuan Xue, and so would show no mercy.

As for Zuo Qiu Liye—he seemed determined to have her, going so far as to risk war with Ji to bring her back to Wu. Wu itself was a strange kingdom, its royal family practicing mysterious arts.

“Little Xue, can you really sleep now?” Zuo Qiu Liye asked, still seated at her bedside, showing no intention of leaving.