The Lord's Noble Request

The wooden wheels of the cart rumbled over cobblestones, resounding through the hushed morning like a proclamation. Chengyu stood at the threshold of Xiuqin's humble abode—a sanctuary of herbs and healing where he'd found unexpected refuge. The low-hanging sun cast a golden aura over the courtyard, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

"Chengyu," Xiuqin called softly from behind, her voice laced with a motherly warmth. "Let me help you with your robe. You must look presentable for Lord Hongli."

"Thank you, Xiuqin," Chengyu replied, his hands trembling slightly as he attempted to straighten the embroidered garment. Noticing his anxious fumbles, she stepped forward and expertly adjusted the folds, smoothing them down with a tender precision.

"Remember," she murmured, her fingers pausing over the crest of the dragon weaved into the fabric, "no matter what grandeur awaits you, you will always have family here."

Her words pierced through the protective veil around his heart. "Family..." he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. A single tear betrayed him, tracing a warm path down his cheek. His life had been a solitary journey since the moment he'd been torn from his own world and thrust into this one. But now, Xiuqin's kindness rooted him, even if uncertainty awaited him beyond the gates.

"Be safe, little apothecary," she said, stepping back with a smile that held both pride and sorrow.

He nodded, unable to form words, then turned and approached the cart. Climbing aboard, he settled into the cushions, the softness an odd contrast to the hard reality of his thoughts.

As the cart began its journey, the city unfolded before him like a scroll—one he could read but never fully understand. Peasants ambled along the roadside, their shoulders burdened by the weight of woven baskets brimming with the season's harvest. Their laughter and banter reached him through the din of the city, a stark reminder of the life he might have led—should have led—had fate not plucked him from obscurity and left him in an ideal spot.

By sheer luck, Chengyu mused internally, his gaze sweeping across the landscape, I am here and not there. But how easy might it be to lose it all? He watched as children chased each other among the market stalls, their clothes patched but their spirits unbroken by the harshness of their lives.

Would I have survived that existence? he pondered, his fingertips brushing against the silk of his robe, a symbol of a status unearned. It was as though he had donned an elaborate costume, playing the part of someone significant in a tale spun by capricious gods.

I'm just a normal high schooler with a rudimentary knowledge of medicine. Yet here, I am seen as a hero, he thought, reflecting on the tales that had spread of his deeds within these foreign walls. The irony was not lost on him—that his accidental knowledge from another world would grant him such esteem here, where true heroes labored under the sun without recognition or reward.

Maybe it's not just about survival, he concluded as the cart rolled past a field where farmers bowed and rose in a rhythm as ancient as the land itself. Maybe I'm here to discover where I truly belong—be it in this world or another.

The grand building loomed ahead, its towering presence a stark silhouette against the clear sky. As Chengyu disembarked, he carried with him not only the weight of his thoughts but also the silent promise made to Xiuqin—to remember the warmth of family, no matter how far his journey took him from the simplicity of her heart.

Chengyu stepped through the gilded archway, his senses enveloping him in the ethereal hush of the palace's inner sanctum. The circular entrance to the chamber before him was framed by carvings of dragons and phoenixes intertwined in a dance of mythic splendor. Inside, the room stretched quiet and contemplative, with a shrine nestled at the far end, its incense smoke curling lazily toward the vaulted ceiling.

An ink scroll drawing claimed pride of place above the altar, depicting an ancient tree whose roots delved deep into the earth and whose branches reached high towards the heavens, as if to bridge the chasm between mortal and divine. For a moment, Chengyu felt as though he had been transported into the realm of the spirits, where time folded upon itself and whispered secrets meant only for the chosen.

"Who goes there?" The voice cut through his reverie like a blade. Two guards, clad in armor that glinted like the scales of celestial serpents, emerged from the shadows, their hands resting upon sword hilts.

"Apothecary Chengyu," he replied, his voice steady despite the quickened beat of his heart. "Summoned by Lord Hongli."

Their gazes softened but remained vigilant. Before they could interrogate him further, a familiar figure approached, his presence commanding even in the tranquility of the sacred space.

"Ah, our esteemed apothecary," Lord Hongli greeted him, his lips curving into a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Your reputation precedes you. It is indeed fortunate that fate has guided your steps to our empire."

"Lord Hongli," Chengyu bowed respectfully, acutely aware of the weight of the nobleman's gaze upon him. "I am honored by your words."

"Then let us honor each other," Lord Hongli proposed, gesturing towards the shrine with a flourish. "The empire is in need of your unique talents. I would have you establish an apothecary station within these walls. Yet, such a task requires more than one pair of hands. You must find those willing to assist you, gather resources… Can you do this?"

Chengyu's brow furrowed. "Indeed, Lord Hongli, but might I inquire why?"

"Other villages are known for their craftsmanship or particular pattern of robes, but since our people here hail from others, we have no identity of our own. But with the presence of now two great apothecaries, perhaps I might make a name for us as a medicine-pioneering village."

Chengyu's mind raced—opportunity knotted with challenge. He had no real bearing in the practice. He was simply throwing plants together and praying they worked, figuring things out as he went.

As he considered the breadth of the undertaking, the air seemed to shift, and Yuehua materialized beside him with the quiet grace of a wraith. Her sudden proximity sent a jolt through his body, her presence as startling as it was inexplicable.

"Chengyu," she said, her voice low but resolute. "I can aid you in your quest."

Lord Hongli's brow lifted, a silent question hanging between them. Finally, he nodded, albeit with a hint of reluctance that betrayed his thoughts. Chengyu didn't even want to think what sacred ordinances and social customs he'd destroyed simply by existing.

"Very well. You may contribute to the planning. No more."

"Thank you, My Lord," Yuehua inclined her head, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes.

Together, Chengyu and Yuehua departed the serene stillness of the chamber, their footsteps echoing down the marbled corridor towards the study. Side by side, they moved with purpose, their shared anticipation crackling in the air like the prelude to a thunderstorm.

"Recruitment will be no small feat," Chengyu mused aloud, feeling the thrill of possibility ignite within him.

"Indeed," Yuehua agreed, her lips curving playfully. "But imagine the lives we'll touch, the change we'll bring about."

"Change..." Chengyu echoed, his thoughts spiraling. This world, so different from the one he left behind, now offered him a chance to weave his story into its tapestry. And as the door to Lord Hongli's study creaked open, revealing the expanse of possibilities laid out on the polished wooden desk, Chengyu realized that sometimes, destiny is not a path walked alone, but a journey shared with souls whose own stories are yet untold.

Yuehua immediately rushed to the desk, where she unlocked a hidden compartment and pulled out a map, winking as she did so.

"Do not tell my father I am showing you this."

Chengyu paled, not wanting to discover secrets yet not having a choice in the matter. "Your secret's safe with me," he sighed, stepping closer.

"He oftens consults this map for finding where to source our dinner ingredients, but with a little pushing and a noble decree, I am certain you should have no trouble finding people willing to act as herbalists for the apothecary."

Yuehua unfolded the map with care, its edges worn from frequent consultation. The paper stretched across the mahogany desk like a canvas waiting for the artist's brush. Villages dotted the landscape in clusters of ink, each a potential treasure trove of talent and resources.

"Here," Yuehua said, pointing to a village nestled against a winding river, "they have a group who harvests the finest ginseng. It could prove invaluable."

"Ah, yes," Chengyu murmured, tracing the route with his finger, the prospect of exploration sending a shiver of excitement through him. He lifted his gaze to Yuehua, her silhouette limned by the waning light that poured through the lattice window. Her eyes, dark as the midnight lake in his dreams, held a spark that made the mundane task at hand seem like an adventure.

"Shall we then mark the villages within a day's journey? Time is a luxury we cannot afford to squander," she suggested, her voice steady, yet tinged with the thrill of their shared secret mission.

"Sure," he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. The sooner we find our herbalists, the sooner we can breathe life into the apothecary station. It's been looking a little dull and we're dwindling Xiuqin's stock.

Although he and Xiangcui did their best, it simply wasn't enough to keep up with customer demand.

As the quill danced in his hands, dotting the parchment with symbols and notes, Chengyu's thoughts wandered. There was something surreal about sitting here, plotting out a future he never imagined. The air in the room seemed to hum with the energy of unspoken possibilities, and for a moment, Chengyu forgot the weight of his own displacement.

He should be seeking a way back to his own world, to the sterile comfort of his apartment and the familiar, penetrating listlessness of city life. But in the presence of Yuehua, with her earnest desire to make a difference, those concerns seemed distant, like echoes from another life.

"Have you ventured beyond the palace walls yet?" she asked, breaking the silence. Her inquiry was simple, yet it carried the weight of genuine curiosity.

"Only in passing," Chengyu confessed, setting the quill aside. "My life before... it was not one of travel or grandeur. But just before coming here, I had moved continents, only to lock myself in my room and not appreciate where I'd been transplanted."

He was pathetic back then, a version of himself he wanted to remain lost to time. Here, he was someone. He dared a glance at her, half expecting judgment, but found only warmth.

"Then let this be your grand tour," Yuehua proclaimed with a playful tilt of her head. "Each village a stop on your journey to becoming a part of this world."

For a fleeting second, Chengyu imagined himself as a character in one of those old tales he once read, a wanderer stepping through the pages of a story still being written. The thought was liberating, and with Yuehua at his side, even the cold reality of his situation seemed to soften around the edges.

"Perhaps you are right," he said, allowing himself a small laugh. "There's no harm in having fun while I can. After all, I don't need to uncover the secrets of the universe tonight." His eyes met hers, and there was a quiet acknowledgment of their shared evening ahead. "Especially not when such a pretty girl is spending the evening with me."

Yuehua's cheeks flushed, a delicate pink like the first bloom of peach blossoms. She turned her attention back to the map, but the smile that played on her lips told Chengyu all he needed to know.