7. Parents

The street was silent, the gray eaves of buildings staggered high and low, their curled corners like waves in a black ocean of night, frozen in time.

Old Yao walked lethargically ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, while Chen Ji silently followed, burdened with many questions he wanted to ask, such as where the Northern Continent was, whether he knew a young man named Li Qingniao, and what the Forty-nine Heavens were.

Yet, he knew he couldn't ask; he could only bury those questions deep in his heart.

Old Yao, puzzled, remarked, "You're usually as chatty as torn cotton fabric, why so quiet today?"

Chen Ji's heart tightened, "It's still because of the matter at Zhou Mansion, which you forbade me to mention."

Suddenly, Old Yao inquired, "Did you kill someone?"

After a long silence, Chen Ji answered, "No."

Old Yao snorted lightly, asking no further.

The old man truly didn't inquire about tonight's events anymore along the way, as if nothing had ever happened.

After walking for an hour, Chen Ji finally saw the vast red-painted gates of Prince Jing Mansion from afar, with guards bearing halberds standing in iron armor, and formidable stone lions on each side of the gate.

Under the gray-tiled eaves hung two white lanterns labeled "Prince Jing Mansion" in three characters, and the plaque above the door was inscribed with golden letters, "Upright and Bright."

Doctor Yao did not enter through the main gate but led Chen Ji to the side of the mansion, where a medical hall named 'Taiping', tightly adjoining the mansion, was located.

The plaque above the door bore the four bold characters "No Credit Extended."

Old Yao pushed open the main door of the Medical Hall, stepping over the high threshold, and inside, a long counter was lit by a kerosene lamp.

Outside was the dark street and the night sky; inside was the warm, orange glow, it appeared as if the world was in black and white, and only this Medical Hall had color.

It seemed as if the moment Chen Ji stepped inside, he could shelter from the storm and find peace.

Old Yao stood inside the door, glancing back diagonally at Chen Ji, "Throw away what's in your hand; we don't need that thing here in the Medical Hall."

Taken aback, Chen Ji threw away the broken porcelain he still clutched in his palm, stained with blood.

He looked at the high threshold of the Medical Hall and Old Yao's hunched silhouette, finally stepping inside, closing the door behind him, keeping the night outside.

…

…

This Medical Hall was a small courtyard, separated from the mansion by just a wall, with a gnarled apricot tree in the middle.

A majestic crow perched on the top branch flew away upon seeing someone approach.

Old Yao, apparently tired, waved his hand, "Go to sleep."

Chen Ji stood still, unsure of where to sleep. There were three rooms in the back wing of the courtyard, and he didn't know which one was the correct choice; choosing wrong could arouse suspicion.

Seeing him unmoving, Old Yao looked back suspiciously, "Why aren't you going to sleep?"

At this, a skinny, tall young man in a long robe emerged from the west wing, looking disdainfully at Chen Ji, "Chen Ji, you took so long just to deliver some medicine, even troubling Master to find you… Master, you must be tired. Let me boil some water for you to soak your feet and rest."

Chen Ji silently gazed at this... senior apprentice brother.

How could a person flatter so specifically?

Old Yao said, "Everyone go to sleep. Don't delay tomorrow's morning class."

"Alright," the skinny, tall young man briskly retreated back into the west wing.

Chen Ji followed inside; the room housed a large communal bed, with a burly figure loudly sleeping at the far end, completely unaware of the outside world's recent events. The skinny senior brother slept in the middle of the bed, his spot by the door.

The apprentice room had worn wooden windows and, aside from pots and jars, held no other furniture.

In the dim room, the skinny senior brother sat wrapped in his blanket on the communal bed, his eyes intensely fixed on Chen Ji, lowering his voice to ask, "What happened, why were you gone so long?"

"Nothing happened," Chen Ji shook his head, wearily climbed into bed, and silently watched the room's wooden beams and the aged spiderwebs.

The skinny senior brother turned over and lay down, muttering, "Never mind then!"

The room fell silent again, filled only by the sound of breathing.

It was only at this moment Chen Ji could pause to thoroughly contemplate his situation: would Jiao Tu and Yun Yang let him go? Certainly not.

The abilities he displayed tonight were not those of a mere Medical Hall apprentice, and having coincidentally appeared in the home of a Jing Dynasty spy, how could those spiteful two not suspect him?

But why would they let him go? Was it because of his master's status, or did the other party have other plans for him?

Regardless of the reason, Chen Ji's best option now was to stay in the Medical Hall, adjacent to the Prince Mansion; the opposition would likely be wary of making any moves.

As he pondered, Chen Ji's pupils suddenly constricted.

Inside his Dantian, a frigid sensation was spreading throughout his body, devouring the warmth in his muscles, bones, and blood.

That was... the Ice Flow that had entered his body when Zhou Chengyi died. At the time, it felt merely cold, almost an illusion, but now it seemed like a fierce beast trapped within Chen Ji's body, angrily seeking an exit, yet unable to break free.

Thump.

Chen Ji heard his own blood flowing like an avalanche, as if it was no longer blood coursing through his veins, but rather gravelly ice.

His lean body seemed to be harboring a sword, or a dragon that had existed for thousands of years. Chen Ji felt as if he was in a dark abyss, despairingly dragged to the depths by a hand.

It was piercingly cold.

Chen Ji struggled to turn his head to look at the others in the room, but found them sleeping soundly, oblivious to everything. He wrapped himself tightly in the quilt, but the coldness originated from inside, and even covering himself entirely with the quilt did nothing to help.

Could it be that he was haunted by the resentful spirits of Zhou Chengyi?

Gradually, before he could figure it out, he curled up, lost in a daze.

He didn't know how long had passed when a clear rooster crow came from afar, sounding as though it had pierced through layers of thin fog, shredding the mist.

Chen Ji woke with a start and sat up on the bed, gasping for air greedily as if he had just been pulled out from underwater.

His hands and feet were icy cold; what had just happened was not a dream—the Ice Flow was still wreaking havoc.

...

...

Outside the window, the scant sunlight was blocked by the paper window, making the room dim.

Next to him, two senior brothers were still sleeping deeply, heads covered, unaffected by the crowing, still snoring.

Just as Chen Ji was in a daze, the door squeaked open.

There stood his master, Old Yao, at the doorway with a bamboo stick in hand, his face full of disdain as he said, "You're still not up even after the rooster has crowed. Those who know would think you're apprentices, those who don't would think you're the legitimate sons of some noble family."

With that, he swung the bamboo stick and lashed out.

Chen Ji scrambled to his feet, throwing on his clothes and dodging to the side: "Master, I'm already up!"

Old Yao, seeing this, turned to thrash the others, but cries of agony soon filled the air as the two senior brothers ran helter-skelter, clutching their heads: "Master, stop hitting! We're up, we're up!"

Regardless of how the brothers dodged, the bamboo stick accurately found them. The stooped old man, though ninety-two years old, was exceptionally agile.

Old Yao drove the three to the courtyard, commanding coldly, "Stand like stakes!"

Chen Ji had thought that the morning routine at the Imperial Medical Hall would be reciting medical texts, but to stand like stakes?

He turned to see both senior brothers adopting odd postures, not quite a horse stance, more like a posture of carrying huge rocks to climb ridges.

Before he could mimic them, a snap of the bamboo cane crisply struck him, and the moment it made contact with his body, it felt as if pain exploded from within his bones.

The heart-piercing pain, along with a cold weakness, suddenly made Chen Ji nearly faint; he began standing like his brothers as Old Yao scoffed: "Don't act weak here, it won't work. And don't think that flatteries will spare you from my beating."

As he spoke, the cane again fell on the tall, thin senior brother: "Liu Quxing, am I not talking about you? What the hell are you standing like?"

Liu Quxing cried, "Master, aren't we supposed to be learning medicine? Why do we practice this every day?"

Old Yao sneered and struck with the bamboo stick again: "Dare to talk back? Heaven has three treasures, sun, moon, and stars; man has three treasures, essence, energy, and spirit! Without essence, energy, and spirit, what can you ever learn!"

In just a quarter of an hour, the three brothers were howling miserably from the strikes, and it was Chen Ji's first experience of physical punishment. Moreover, he received the most punishment among them since he was the most unfamiliar with the stance.

Yet,

At a certain moment while standing, a warm flow emerged from behind Chen Ji's waist, slowly counteracting the chill of the night.

This warmth was intermittent… or rather, when the stance was correct, it would generate, and when not, it disappeared.

Chen Ji adjusted his posture following this sensation; whenever warmth emerged from his lower back, he would maintain the position without moving. It was as if someone had prepared the answers for him, and he just had to trace them.

At this moment, Old Yao walked over to him, initially intending to whip him casually, but, finding Chen Ji's posture entirely correct, he surprisingly found no reason to strike…

Afterward, Old Yao simply ignored him and continued to beat the other two senior brothers.

Chen Ji didn't understand what was so special about the posture that it could counteract the Ice Flow. He silently observed his brothers, not noticing any particular benefits from this stance.

Could it be that only he could feel this warm flow?

After half an hour, the Ice Flow in Chen Ji's body was suppressed back into his Dantian, immobile. He sighed with relief—if the Ice Flow had continued its havoc, he might not have lived through the day.

Old Yao sneered, "Alright, morning class is over, and Chen Ji, you have shown improvement."

The three brothers grimaced, rubbing their bruises. If they took off their clothes now, they'd surely be covered in bruises.

"Hurry up and go wait at the main hall entrance for your families. Today is the day for paying the tuition fee. If I don't see the tuition fee, you'll pack your bags and leave immediately!" Old Yao said coldly. "Chen Ji, when your family arrives, remember to ask for money—320 cents for the medicine lost last night, not a cent less."

Chen Ji paused.

Family...

Did he even have a family in this world?