Chapter 14: Autocracy vs. Rule of Law

Under the dim oil lamp, Liu Mingyi’s wound appeared blurry. Performing a delicate surgery under such lighting was undoubtedly a challenge. Wei Lan requested Father Liu to add more lamps beside the bed to illuminate the surgical area.

As more lamps were lit, the room gradually brightened. Father Liu even held a lamp directly over Liu Mingyi’s wound. Although the lighting was still far from the brightness of modern surgical lamps, it was sufficient for Wei Lan to begin her operation.

She donned her homemade sterile gear—gauze mask, cap, gloves, and apron—items she had prepared after suturing Danqing’s wound earlier, not expecting them to be used so soon.

Wei Lan carefully disinfected Liu Mingyi’s wound and laid down surgical drapes to ensure a sterile operating field. With forceps in her left hand and a scalpel in her right, she prepared to make an incision near a blood vessel.

The blade lightly cut through the skin. Wei Lan glanced at Mingyi, noticing his slightly tilted head, furrowed brows, tightly shut eyes, and clenched jaw. Uncertain about the anesthetic’s effect, she softly asked, “Does it hurt?”

Mingyi felt the coldness of the blade clearly but remained calm. “Go ahead.”

Mistaking his response as a sign that he felt no pain, Wei Lan proceeded with the incision.

As she cut deeper, Mingyi’s facial muscles tensed further, and his right arm twitched involuntarily.

Sensing his tension, Wei Lan paused, her mind racing for ways to numb his nerves. Her eyes landed on a bottle of pure alcohol, and an idea flashed through her mind.

She recalled the story of Hua Tuo in Romance of the Three Kingdoms, where the physician performed a bone-scraping surgery on Guan Yu while he drank wine to ease the pain. But should she use alcohol? Alcohol promoted blood circulation—would it increase Mingyi’s bleeding? If she didn’t use it, would the pain from cutting deeper into his muscle cause him to go into shock or pass out?

Caught in a dilemma, Wei Lan decided to let Mingyi choose.

After a moment of thought, Mingyi slowly spoke, “All choices come with risks. A physician’s duty is to weigh the pros and cons and choose the lesser evil. Hua Tuo’s Ma Fei San was taken with wine—why not give it a try?”

Since Wei Lan was already dressed for surgery, she left the task to Father Liu, who followed her instructions to mix pure alcohol with distilled water, preparing a strong drink for Mingyi.

This was the first time Mingyi had ever consumed such high-proof alcohol. The strong liquor quickly took effect, making his head heavy and his consciousness fade.

With Mingyi somewhat numbed, Wei Lan refocused on the surgery. Under the dim light, she carefully sutured the artery—only 4mm thick—with steady and precise hands. Using a fine curved suture needle, she meticulously stitched the torn blood vessel. Sweat gradually formed on her forehead, but her gaze remained firm, and her hands did not waver.

After a tense and meticulous procedure, Wei Lan finally completed the vascular anastomosis. She let out a long breath, only to be overwhelmed by exhaustion. Her clothes were soaked in sweat, and the prolonged concentration left her vision blurry. A wave of dizziness nearly caused her to lose her balance.

Father Liu had held the lamp throughout the entire operation. To provide the best lighting, he had maintained the same position for a long time, leaving his old bones stiff. His initial skepticism toward Wei Lan had gradually turned into admiration.

After the surgery, Wei Lan handed another cup of strong liquor to Liu Mingyi, hoping to ease his pain further.

Mingyi accepted the drink and downed it in one gulp, the burning sensation slightly alleviating his discomfort.

Seeing this, Father Liu gently extinguished the extra lamps and softly said to his son, “Mingyi, get some rest.” He then motioned for Wei Lan to follow him into the study, clearly intending to have a word with her.

Wei Lan followed, already anticipating Father Liu’s concerns. She had no intention of hiding the truth. Once inside, before Father Liu could speak, she proactively admitted, “We entered the Bewitching Forest to collect ginseng but accidentally startled a wild boar, leading to the accident.”

Father Liu’s tone was heavy. “I know Mingyi well—he would never enter the Bewitching Forest. Was it your idea to go?”

Wei Lan had a strong sense of responsibility as a physician, but she lacked proper respect for nature. She had been sheltered for too long, knew too little about the world, and underestimated the dangers of the forest. Instead of evading responsibility, she admitted her mistake directly.

“Uncle Liu, I failed to consider the consequences. I am willing to bear all responsibility and do everything I can to make amends.”

Father Liu’s gaze was stern. “Admitting a mistake does not erase it. The Liu family has only one heir per generation. If our lineage ends because of this, how do you plan to take responsibility?”

Wei Lan frowned. She hadn’t expected Father Liu to be more concerned about bloodline continuation than Mingyi’s life. She bluntly retorted, “Is lineage more important than a human life? Does Liu Yao not count as your flesh and blood?”

Her words directly challenged traditional values.

Father Liu’s face turned livid with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at Wei Lan, struggling to respond, “You… you…”

At that moment, the study door creaked open. Liu Mingyi stood at the entrance, pale and clutching his wound for support. His gaze was lowered as he softly said, “Miss Wei, ‘Respect for elders is the foundation of ethics. One must act with humility and caution.’”

As he spoke, he immediately felt the sharp weight of Wei Lan’s stare.

Wei Lan was different from other women. At their first meeting, she had insisted he call her by name. Traditionally, a woman’s name was only revealed to the groom during the marriage ceremony.

She always met people’s eyes directly, without fear, yet she was not unpleasantly bold.

Though she called him “Mingyi-ge” (brother Mingyi), her actions often lacked propriety. She spoke of noble ideals but cared only for her so-called “scientific experiments,” never concerning herself with household matters.

Mingyi had always indulged her temperament, but he could not tolerate her disrespect toward his father.

In modern society, laws protect individuals’ rights and freedoms. But in the Ming Dynasty, Confucian ideals dominated, with the emperor ruling the empire, the patriarch leading the clan, and the father being the head of the household. These male figures symbolized authority and controlled the fates of those beneath them.

Thus, the authority of the family head was not to be challenged.

Wei Lan said nothing and left the study, locking herself in her room.

Only then did she notice the pain in her fingers—wounds from their time in the cave. Her once smooth hands were now covered in scars, her nails jagged, her fingertips raw and exposed.

She felt like an outsider in this unfamiliar world. A deep sense of loneliness washed over her. Silent tears fell—not in sobs, not in tremors—only when the tears became too much did she blink them away.

She rarely cried. The last time was in the hospital, when a patient had to forgo treatment due to poverty. His eyes were filled with despair—more than that, resignation. That day, she felt powerless. Her hands could heal, but they couldn’t cure poverty.

After calming herself, Wei Lan tended to her wounds, the alcohol’s sting making her suck in a breath. She quickly wrapped her fingers in gauze.

From her pocket, she pulled out the ginseng root. They had nearly died for this. At dawn, she would sell it to Miss Tang and use the money to buy a property. She was determined—once she had the money, she would move out and start anew.

Meanwhile, in the study, Father Liu sighed. “Wei Lan is skilled, but her blunt nature will bring her trouble. In the end, she will only hurt herself.”

Mingyi defended her. “Father, she is neither your daughter nor my sister. Perhaps we shouldn’t judge her too harshly.”

Father Liu shook his head. “I don’t want to meddle. But today, she nearly cost you your life. I merely hope she learns from this.”

Later, Mingyi knocked on Wei Lan’s door and handed her a medicinal salve. “For your delicate hands—wouldn’t want scars.”

Wei Lan accepted it and softly said, “I’m sorry.”

Mingyi chuckled. “We both made mistakes. Let’s move on.”

They smiled at each other, a warm moment amid the tension.