Chapter 32 - Divine Doctor (Unedited)

  It was the hottest time of the year when Rong Heng received a letter informing him that Song Chaoyan was on a hunger strike. He was shocked and felt a chill down his spine, as if he was in the middle of winter. Song Chaoyan, committing suicide by starving herself? How could she do something so foolish?

  He rushed to the Marquis Mansion. Song Chaoyan was standing behind a rockery, her face pale and weak, as if she was about to die the next second.

  They hadn't seen each other for just a few days, and Song Chaoyan had visibly declined. She was much thinner than before, and her already somewhat sickly face now looked even more listless, as if she would ascend to heaven at any moment. As she was a woman he once loved, Rong Heng's heart ached. He looked at her with pity and asked, "Chaoyan, what's wrong?"

  Song Chaoyan gave a wry smile. "Young Lord, Chaoyan doesn't want to live anymore."

  "How can you have such thoughts? Even an ant clings to life, don't be so reckless."

  Song Chaoyan shook her head with a wry smile. "But Your Highness hasn't come to see me for a long time, and you haven't sent anyone with a message. Do you think we have no hope, that you have forgotten our vows from the past? Your Highness, do you remember you promised to marry me?"

  Rong Heng was stunned for a moment. He and Chaoyan had known each other since childhood, and he had indeed made such a promise. They often met in secret, which was against the rules, and his upbringing demanded he take responsibility. However, he never expected that Song Chaoxi would marry his father. Now that it had happened, he and Song Chaoyan had no chance. What was the point of saying those words again?

  "Chaoyan, you need to be rational. This was an imperial decree. Now that my father has woken up, she is my stepmother. There's no way in this world for two sisters to marry a father and son. Even if we don't care, my father would never allow it. We can't lose face for the Duke's Mansion because of this. Just consider it my fault, bme me if you must."

  Song Chaoyan clutched her handkerchief tightly and said resentfully, "It's clearly Song Chaoxi's fault! If she hadn't married your father, how would we have been separated? I will never marry anyone else but you. If Your Highness doesn't want to marry me, let me die. There's no point in living anyway."

  Her face was pale, and her small face was filled with weakness. Rong Heng couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "Don't do this. You still need to eat. You're not in good health anyway. If you keep torturing yourself, won't you hurt the people around you?"

  Song Chaoyan lowered her head. "Sister refused to give me her blood. I'm afraid I won't live long. Even if I do, no other man would catch my eye. Your Highness, you know how Chaoyan feels."

  Rong Heng was in a difficult position. He didn't know how to handle this situation, so he said, "Let me think of a way. Maybe there will be a chance."

  Song Chaoyan didn't seem happy. His words were light and airy, although he cared about her, he wasn't as close to her as before. He was distracted when talking to her, as if he was looking at someone else through her. Who else could he be looking at? Song Chaoyan's heart fshed with the possibility she didn't want to admit. Song Chaoxi, it was Song Chaoxi again! Song Chaoxi was a real curse. She ruined her marriage, and now she was ruining her retionship.

  She lowered her eyes, trying to make herself look pitiful. Rong Heng softened his tone again, showing pity for her.

  He couldn't stay long. As he left, Song Zongming frowned and asked, "How is Chaoxi doing at your Duke's Mansion?"

  Rong Heng was startled. "She's fine, of course."

  "This is the st time. Don't come looking for me to meet Chaoyan again!"

  Rong Heng frowned, then he heard Song Zongming say, "Chaoxi has married your father. You and Chaoyan should stop meeting in secret. It's against the rules. Besides, Chaoxi doesn't like it, and I can't be too close to you anymore. I don't want to make my sister unhappy."

  Rong Heng: "..." Where's the good friend I knew?

  Song Chaoyan, who was silently pying the role of a brother in a corner where her sister didn't know, was almost moved by herself.

  Nowadays, there are not many brothers who care for their sisters so selflessly without expecting anything in return.

  Song Zongming said in a deep voice, "Don't come to the Hou Mansion anymore. Remember to be polite to Chaoxi when you see her. She's gentle and kind, and she doesn't know how to scheme. Don't bully her!"

  Rong Heng frowned. How could he bully her? Song Zongming thought too highly of him. Everyone around him seemed to be obsessed with Song Chaoxi. He really didn't know what charm she had that made everyone go crazy for her.

  How could someone so scheming deserve such love?

  When Taozhi returned to the courtyard, she worriedly said, "Miss, now that the eldest miss has married into the Duke's Mansion, she'll be seeing the Young Master all the time..."

  Song Chaoyan shook her head, picked up the medicinal tea that the maid had just brewed. She had been on a hunger strike for the past few days, and her cough had gotten worse. She had to drink this medicinal tea to suppress it. After hearing Taozhi's words, her expression changed slightly. "She is his mother. With that retionship, what could he possibly think about me? It's impossible!"

  "But..."

  "Enough! I don't want to hear these baseless guesses. The Young Master loves me, and that will never change!"

  Taozhi and Songzhi looked at each other, both seeing worry in each other's eyes. How could one's heart be so easily controlled? The sisters looked alike, but Song Chaoxi was bright and generous, and she was Rong Heng's mother, close at hand, within reach, yet she couldn't get him. People are like that. The more they can't have something, the more it itches at their heart. Gradually, their thoughts grow like towering trees, becoming more and more wild.

  Song Chaoxi met Rong Heng on the water corridor. He was wearing a dark blue robe with cloud patterns and embroidered flowers, walking from the opposite direction. He looked preoccupied. When he passed by, he was clearly startled and lowered his head to greet her. "Mother."

  Song Chaoxi replied with a zy wave of her hand. "Young Master, you don't have to be so formal. Get up!"

  Rong Heng respectfully stood aside, the etiquette of a noble son was impeccable. As he lowered his head, he saw her wearing a crimson jacket. She looked very bright in this color, bold and unrestrained, but it magnified her beauty to the extreme.

  She seemed to be in a good mood. Was she happy with his father? Otherwise, why didn't she seem worried at all?

  She was carefree, but she left all the difficult problems to others.

  He couldn't help but blurt out, "Do you know that Chaoyan is on a hunger strike at home?"

  Song Chaoxi was a little surprised. In the book, Song Chaoyan was a person who remained optimistic even in adversity and always pnned for herself. How could such a heroine go on a hunger strike? Was the male lead now going to seek justice for the female lead?

  She couldn't help but ugh. "Really? I didn't know that."

  Rong Heng was stunned. He had wanted to bme her, but after she said that, he didn't know how to respond. "Chaoyan is so distraught that she's on a hunger strike. She almost lost half her life."

  Song Chaoxi smiled and shook her head. Rong Heng frowned. "What are you ughing at?"

  Song Chaoxi looked at him as if he were an idiot, but her tone was very kind:

  "I was just thinking, my sister is really interesting. If she really wanted to die, she could have hanged herself or jumped into a ke, found a pce where no one would know, and ended it all. There are plenty of ways that others wouldn't know about. But she chose to go on a hunger strike. What's a hunger strike? Someone comes, and she yells, 'I'm not eating, I'm not eating.' Another person comes, they try to persuade her, and she still doesn't eat. Everyone knows she's on a hunger strike, knows she's heartbroken, knows she wants to die. To be honest, someone who really wants to die wouldn't bother to say a word. It's just that my sister is smart. She knows that her previous whining and tantrums won't work anymore, so she's come up with a more advanced version. She's started a hunger strike. Look, didn't you, the audience, come to me because she's on a hunger strike?"

  She gazed off toward the distant trees, her absentminded expression tinged with sarcasm. Rong Heng was momentarily stunned by her words. On reflection, they seemed to make a certain amount of sense—yet not entirely. It felt like sophistry. He wanted to argue back but didn’t know how. With what Song Chaoxi had just said, it felt as though everyone was being toyed with by Song Chaoyan, and he was the biggest fool of all, unable to see through even her petty tricks.

  Frustrated and unwilling to accept it, he said, “If she really dies, wouldn’t it be your fault? Don’t you feel the slightest guilt?”

  Song Chaoxi found it funny. “It was one thing when I lived in the marquis’s manor, but now I’m far away—and you’re still trying to pin this on me? This is what you’d call cross-regional scapegoating! As for guilt… Young Lord, you eat chicken, duck, fish, and goose every day. Did you feel guilty for any of them dying?”

  “How is that the same? Those are just animals! Your sister is a living, breathing human being!”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right. My sister is a human being, superior to animals—slightly. So, Young Lord, is there anything else?”

  Rong Heng nearly coughed up blood from anger. He realized he truly couldn’t win against this woman. What did she mean by “slightly superior to animals”? It definitely didn’t sound like a compliment!

  Why did she have so many twisted arguments? He couldn’t outtalk her no matter what.

  Could she act like this in front of his stern, dignified father? Surely not—his father would never tolerate it.

  —

  The next afternoon, after the old madam awoke from her nap, Rong Heng went to pay his respects. But to his surprise, Rong Jing and Song Chaoxi had already arrived. Rong Heng hesitated briefly, then quickly bowed. “Father.”

  He looked at the composed Song Chaoxi and mumbled, “Mother.”

  Rong Jing gave a light acknowledgment. Song Chaoxi said bndly, “We’re all family here, no need for such formalities, Young Lord.”

  Rong Heng lowered his gaze, his brow twitching. Why did it feel like she was speaking from a position of superiority?

  Rong Jing then asked him a few questions about his studies. Rong Heng answered properly. Song Chaoxi noticed the books he had been reading were fairly ordinary. She wasn’t sure if he was hiding his abilities, but Rong Jing showed no emotion after listening. His tone carried the authority of a father: “You’re not young anymore. Since you’ve chosen this path, you must prepare well and see it through. Don’t bring shame to your grandfather or the Duke’s estate.”

  “Yes, Father,” Rong Heng replied. He couldn’t help but think: grandfather might have had military merit, but he had already been surpassed by Father. The one he shouldn’t embarrass was his father.

  Once finished, Rong Jing turned to the old madam. “Your son has been unfilial, making you worry.”

  The old madam put her palms together and thanked the Bodhisattva before saying, “You went to the edge of death and back. Not just me—the Emperor, your two brothers, your old subordinates—none of us could rest easy. Thank heavens you’ve recovered. That’s more important than anything.”

  Rong Jing set down his bck-gzed teacup with maple leaf patterns and listened quietly. Then he nodded. “I heard from Nanny Yang that your health hasn’t been well.”

  The old madam took a sip of her medicinal tea and smiled. “I wasn’t feeling great before, but your wife secretly adjusted my diet. I just found out today that I’ve been eating medicinal meals these past few days—there were quite a few rare herbs in them. After just a few days, my chronic indigestion is already much better. I haven’t felt bloated once recently.”

  Rong Jing turned slowly to look at Song Chaoxi. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away and said, “A few days ago, I heard Nanny Yang mention your stomach troubles. Since you didn’t want to see a doctor, I took the liberty of changing your meals. It was presumptuous of me—I hope Mother won’t hold it against me.”

  “Why would I bme you? You cured me just by adjusting my food—I should be thanking you! If I hadn’t asked today, Nanny Yang and Xiyue wouldn’t have even told me. I wouldn’t have known it was you who helped me recover. You’re sincere and humble—not seeking credit. Your temperament reminds me of your grandfather,” the old madam said cheerfully, then turned to Rong Jing. “Don’t you think, my son, that Chaoxi is both capable and beautiful—a rare treasure?”

  Though Song Chaoxi had thick skin, she still wasn’t used to such praise. “It wasn’t much—Mother, you ftter me.”

  Rong Jing put down his tea and said calmly, “Mother’s not wrong.”

  Whether he was replying to the old madam or speaking to her, Song Chaoxi wasn’t sure. But what did he mean by “not wrong”? Did he think she was pretty? Or that she was capable? This habit of his—only saying half of what he meant—really needed to change.

  Nearby, Lady Gao felt a sour pang in her heart. She had served the old madam for over a decade, even helping manage the household. Even if she hadn’t done anything great, she had certainly toiled. Yet, in the old madam’s eyes, she was still inferior to the newly arrived Song Chaoxi. True, Song Chaoxi was skilled in medicine and good-looking, but wasn’t she also competent? Why did the old madam only praise the second daughter-in-w and overlook her efforts? Now that Song Chaoxi had entered the household and was already being held in such high regard, wouldn’t she soon take over the management of the estate? And once she gave birth to a son—then what?

  —

  The old madam brought up the many gifts the estate had received after Rong Jing regained consciousness. “His Majesty gave an order that no one was to disturb your rest, so everyone simply sent word instead. Since they weren’t sure if they counted as ‘unimportant,’ they didn’t dare come in person.”

  But sending a message wasn’t enough—every family had sent gifts too. The more favored the Duke's estate was, the more it had to keep a low profile. The old madam refused most of the gifts, citing the recent wedding as a reason not to accept. Still, some were forced in, so she prepared a detailed list to help Rong Jing handle it.

  Xiyue respectfully presented the written list. Rong Jing only gnced at it before handing it straight to Song Chaoxi.

  She was startled but accepted it. She looked at him, trying to read his intentions, but he gave no hint, so she had no choice but to open it. The list contained many valuable items: cloisonné inid ruyi scepters, a reproduction of Along the River During the Qingming Festival, rubbings of ancient stone inscriptions, bamboo slips, antique bronzes… Most of it was art or schorly items reted to epigraphy.

  “You like epigraphy?” Song Chaoxi asked. She actually had a collection of bronzes and stone tablets back in Yangzhou from her te uncle, who disliked them himself, so she’d never studied them seriously. If she had known, she would have brought them to the capital.

  When standing, Rong Jing exuded a strict and cold aura; seated, his presence was less oppressive. He replied, “Not obsessed, but interested.”

  “Studying inscriptions and rubbing stones to learn from the ancients… That’s a refined hobby.” She couldn’t master it, but she knew how to ftter.

  Rong Jing smiled and shook his head, saying nothing.

  Of course, he already knew how to handle these matters—she couldn’t really make decisions. She flipped through the list casually. It was clear that most gift-givers had done their homework on his tastes—except the one who gave the cloisonné ruyi. With his rank and status, he had seen all kinds of things. Nowadays, officials often gifted ruyi scepters, but doing so too obviously was considered tacky. This one had sent it anyway. Should she praise him for being straightforward or for being clueless?

  She remained rexed, not taking it seriously, but the old madam smiled meaningfully, and Lady Gao’s heart sank.

  The Duke had only been awake a few days, and he hadn’t even met Song Chaoxi before they married—he’d been forced into it by the old madam. Yet now, he was treating this wife with such importance. In front of outsiders, he handed her the gift list. That was a clear sign of trust and recognition.

  When the previous Duke was away at war, their family members had to stay in the capital. Rong Feng, the eldest son, worked in the court then. During simir gift-receiving situations, she had once asked to see the list and was immediately scolded: “What’s a woman doing meddling in such affairs?”

  Now, the situation was almost the same, but the Duke’s approach was entirely different. What woman wouldn’t want to be treated with such respect by her husband? The difference in treatment between her and Song Chaoxi was enough to make any woman bitter.

  ■●■●■●■●■●●■■●■●■●■●■●■●■●●

  Here is the English transtion of the passage you provided:

  Rong Heng stood quietly to the side. On such occasions, he usually had no pce to speak. When his father and grandmother chatted about family matters, it wasn’t appropriate for a younger generation like him to interrupt. If they discussed the intricacies of politics or changes among court officials, he had even less standing to speak. While his father was unconscious, he had entertained the idea of revitalizing the Duke’s estate. But now, he found that notion ughable. With his father present, even standing on his father's shoulders wouldn't get him to the same height—he feared it would take him a lifetime and still not be enough.

  Today, Song Chaoxi wore a scarlet robe embroidered with plum blossoms, while Rong Jing wore a dark, round-colred long robe. Their colors were completely different—one bold and one somber—yet strangely complementary.

  Rong Heng used to find it odd how submissive Song Chaoxi became in front of his father. Now he suddenly understood: people instinctively act submissive in front of those more powerful than themselves. His thoughts wandered so much that he didn’t even hear what his grandmother said until she ughed and asked, “Heng-ge’er, you’re of marrying age now. Things were deyed because of your father’s illness, but I’ll help you find a good match soon.”

  Rong Heng lowered his gaze, feeling extremely uncomfortable. He was about to get married, yet he didn’t feel happy at all. After all, the person he had once wanted to marry was her. What would she feel hearing this? Maybe he was the only one feeling uneasy—she was probably as carefree as ever.

  Then he thought of Song Chaoyan and suddenly didn’t know how to respond. He simply said, “I’ll follow Grandmother’s arrangement.”

  The old dy smiled. “What kind of girl does Heng-ge’er like?”

  For some reason, Rong Heng thought of Song Chaoxi’s face. Realizing his thoughts were wandering, he suddenly became nervous. His father was right across from him—had he noticed something? And if he had, then what? Rong Heng didn’t even understand what he was thinking anymore. He should be in love with Song Chaoyan, but when she told him to marry Song Chaoxi, everything had gone off track.

  “I’ll follow Grandmother’s wishes,” he repeated.

  Song Chaoxi scoffed inwardly, clearly looking down on Rong Heng’s cowardice. He was the male lead, yet he seemed to be shrinking more and more. In the original story, at least he’d fight gods and demons for Song Chaoyan. Now he didn’t even have the courage to admit anything. How amusing.

  Noticing the old dy wanted some private conversation with Rong Jing, Song Chaoxi sensibly excused herself. The old dy reclined on a chaise, resting her arm on a longevity pillow. Xiyue pced an embroidered cushion under her waist. The old dy had lingering back pain from childbirth after bearing three sons, and could only sit comfortably like this.

  Granny Yang lit some sandalwood incense, and several maids began to fan her gently.

  The old dy gnced at her son, her tone teasing:

  “No one else is here—just you and me. I want to ask you something in private. Tell me honestly, how do you feel about the wife I found for you?”

  Rong Jing knew her personality well. She looked dignified and proper, but she loved to joke. He remembered how she’d once dressed as a man and followed him and his father to the battlefield. Without the rules of the Duke’s estate to restrain her, he had suffered quite a bit at her hands. Now that he was older and more guarded, he seldom fell for her teasing.

  Without lifting his head, he calmly replied, “I don’t know what Mother means.”

  The old dy gred at him. “Your wife is very pretty and charming, right?”

  Rong Jing’s eyelids twitched, but he stayed composed, taking a sip of tea before replying, “Mother always has good judgment.”

  A teasing glint appeared in the old dy’s eyes. Tapping her embroidered pillow with a finger, she said:

  “Judging by your tone, you’re not satisfied. That’s fine—it’s normal. After all, I forced her on you. If you’re unhappy, we can fix it. How about I bring in a few concubines to serve you? If you don’t like someone as bright and lively as Chaoxi, I can find some gentle, delicate ones. Just visit Chaoxi’s room once a month for appearance’s sake. The rest of the time, you can go wherever you like.”

  Rong Jing put down his teacup, his expression dark and firm. “I’m busy with official duties. I have no interest in entertaining others.”

  “You don’t need to entertain anyone. You’re busy by day—surely you’re not busy at night too? Dealing with a few concubines only requires a bit of effort in the evening. It won’t dey your work.”

  “No need. I have no fondness for such things.”

  Though his expression didn’t change much, the old dy could tell he was close to pushing back. She sighed inwardly, slightly disappointed. When he was little, he was easier to tease. Now, he was too serious—no fun at all.

  “Alright, alright, you’re getting more and more stiff. You’re already so much older than Chaoxi. If you keep acting like such an old man, don’t bme her if she starts disliking you.” The old dy smiled and fiddled with her prayer beads, then added, “Your wedding night was deyed. It’s time to make it up. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a baby in this household. You and Chaoxi are both very attractive—your child would surely be exceptionally good-looking. Start building your retionship and make that wedding night happen.”

  Rong Jing remained still, fingers rubbing the golden tea cup, gaze downcast. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “You know? You always say that. If you stay this aloof, I might have to go to the monastery and light incense for you. And besides, even if you can put up with it, can Chaoxi? She married you to bring good fortune, and there are plenty of people inside and outside the household watching and gossiping, thinking your marriage won’t st. You, as a man, won’t be bmed. But for her, it’s much harder. If you truly care for her, you’ll take this matter seriously.”

  Rong Jing didn’t argue, but he was never someone who could be easily swayed. Knowing his nature, the old dy dropped the subject and waved him off.

  As he left her quarters and walked down the corridor, Rong Jing took in the estate’s trees—they seemed even lusher than before. Suddenly, a figure in scarlet caught his eye. His pace quickened slightly. “Why didn’t you leave?”

  Song Chaoxi had meant to, but then thought she ought to wait for him. “I was waiting to walk back with you.”

  The sun was scorching. Rong Jing was silent for a moment before saying, “If this happens again, there’s no need to wait for me.”

  They walked side by side in silence. Just moments ago, he had approached with such a commanding presence that she couldn’t help but imagine him galloping in with a sword in hand. It was hard to picture what he must have looked like on the battlefield.

  The next day at noon, the bzing sun filtered through the ttice fan. Dragonflies skimmed the ke, sending ripples across its surface. The cicadas buzzed intermittently. Looking out from the carved window, the greenery was lush, and the ke as clear as a dream.

  That morning, after paying her respects to the old dy, Song Chaoxi began mixing a few medicinal ingredients. Rong Jing had gone to the study. After returning triumphant from the border, there were many matters to attend to. But his earlier injury and coma had deyed everything. Now, he could no longer avoid them.

  Holding a letter, he read it and then looked at the ke’s reflection—she was still seated by the window. Liang Shiyi was reporting on pace matters. Seeing his master distracted, he hesitated before saying, “Madam is making powder.”

  “Powder?” Rong Jing raised his eyes, his tone cool and commanding.

  Liang Shiyi dared not look up. “A few days ago, Madam mentioned wanting to make cosmetic powder.”

  Rong Jing didn’t understand women’s matters, but he vaguely recalled her asking a maid to apply powder in the morning. That must be what it was. Holding the letter, he instructed coldly, “In the future, when Madam is around, don’t follow so closely. Stay farther away.”

  Liang Shiyi was baffled. Before the Madam arrived, he had stood guard here every day without issue. Was the master afraid he might overhear something? Or that it was improper for him to be near the Madam?

  “Understood.”

  The occasional chirping of cicadas broke the evening’s silence, and the cool breeze from the ke made Song Chaoxi feel more at ease. She continued working. Making ointments was easy; the difficulty y in the powder. Women of this era liked to use lead powder to make their faces look smooth and white, often paired with decorative forehead flowers. Ordinary powders could never match the effect of lead-based ones. Song Chaoxi had tried several recipes while in Yangzhou, but none were successful. She had also experimented over the past few days, but the results weren’t satisfactory.

  Today, she used cm powder, pearl powder, the traditional “Seven Whites” powder blend, and motherwort—this new mixture had a much finer texture than the previous batches.

  She leaned in to sniff—it had a faint medicinal scent, not too pungent and still tolerable. Pace powders in the past had included four o’clocks (mirabilis) to improve the fragrance. She had also thought of adding powdered rose petals to mask the scent of the herbs. Unfortunately, the rose season had already passed, and it would be difficult to find suitable rose powder this year. If she used pressed rose water instead, the powder wouldn’t keep long. She would have to continue refining the formu.

  The next morning, Song Chaoxi had Qingzhu bring out a white porcein bottle with gilded designs. Qingzhu opened it and applied the powder to her face. The young dy’s skin was already delicate and even-toned—after applying the powder, her face appeared softly matte, clean, and refined.

  Qingzhu excimed, “Miss, is this the new powder you made? It looks so much more refined than the one from a few days ago!”

  “It’s my test batch,” Song Chaoxi replied.

  Dong’er also came over. “It’s whiter than before and blends better too. Once it’s applied, you can’t even see a single blemish—wait! That’s because Miss’s skin never had any fws to begin with!”

  Song Chaoxi curved her lips into a smile and pinched Dong’er’s chubby, cheerful face before applying the powder to her. Dong’er had a small mole on her left cheek, but once covered, it became barely visible. From a distance, the area with powder looked clean and softly matte, giving her face a gentle, refined appearance and even making her features look more sculpted—it was quite magical.

  Dong’er stared at her reflection in the mirror in a daze. “Miss, this powder must be very expensive… I wonder if I could ever afford it.”

  Expensive—it certainly was. But women’s cosmetics were the easiest thing to profit from. For the sake of beauty, dies from all families were willing to spend extravagantly on lip rouge, blush, and lead-based face powder. Applying powder was an essential part of a woman’s makeup routine. If she could create a product beloved by women, it would surely be a huge success.

  Among Song Chaoxi’s dowry businesses was a cosmetics shop called Xiang Bao Zhai (Fragrant Treasur Shop). It was in a prime location, but unfortunately, business had always been lukewarm—verging on loss. A few days ago while bathing, she had reviewed the shop’s accounts and found that the products were outdated and no longer favored by noble dies in the capital. That gave her the idea to develop new products herself.

  She had been a physician in her previous life and had made personal care items for her own use. What set her apart from others was that her ointments and powders all contained medicinal herbs beneficial for beauty. The idea was to nourish the skin through the very makeup one applied, reducing the harmful effects of regur powders. If wearing powder could also enhance one’s complexion, what woman would say no?

  As she was working on her powder, someone came to report that the Marquis’s residence had sent a visitor. Song Chaoxi was surprised, but upon meeting the person, she realized it was her cousin’s subordinate, using the Marquis’s name as a front. The visitor was Fang Qian, once a wandering martial artist who had suffered a serious injury and received her cousin’s help. Since then, he had worked for him loyally.

  On the day of her wedding, Song Chaoxi had asked her cousin—through the curtain of her bridal sedan chair—to help her look into the whereabouts of the famed physician, Doctor Xue. If Doctor Xue came to the capital, he was to inform her immediately.

  “Have you found Doctor Xue?” she asked.

  Fang Qian replied in a deep voice, “He arrived in the capital yesterday. Song Chaoyan and Madam Shen have already met with him. They spent an entire hour at his residence.”