6

This was the first time Ye Jiao had ever seen a flush of color on Qi Yun’s face. His usually pale cheeks now held a faint hue of red. Even with his eyes closed, he looked strikingly handsome—enough to make her heart skip.

But in that moment, his handsomeness only made Ye Jiao panic.

Her first thought was: Did I do something wrong yesterday? Did I make his already fragile body even worse?

The thought made her throat tighten and her eyes sting with pressure.

She wasn’t a strong woman, not by any means. But somehow, a surge of strength came from nowhere, and she managed to half-carry, half-drag Qi Yun from the table all the way to the bed.

Once she laid him down, she carefully removed his outer coat and shoes, then wrapped him tightly in the quilt.

Ye Jiao had rushed down barefoot the moment she heard a sound, so the bed was still unmade. As she tucked him in, the bedding carried the soft scent of osmanthus from her body and the lingering warmth where she had just been lying.

Qi Yun’s head was still foggy, but he didn’t resist. No struggling, no complaints—just quiet compliance.

He’d been like this since childhood: cold one moment, burning the next, fainting now and then. By now, he was almost used to it.

But this time… it felt different.

His body burned, yes, but there was no stabbing pain in his organs. His head was heavy, but not nauseating.

It was as if he were submerged in warm water—not quite comfortable, but not unbearable either.

What he could clearly sense, though, was someone holding him, lifting him, pulling him toward the bed.

This was his bed. The one he’d slept in since he was a child. Even with his eyes shut, he recognized it instantly.

…No. Wait. That wasn’t right. He hadn’t been sleeping here recently.

Before he could sort it out, the scent of osmanthus hit him—and with it, a gentle warmth that felt all too real.

His body was cold, and the blankets usually offered little warmth—but now, there was a gentle heat surrounding him, making him feel drowsy.

For the first time, even while feeling unwell, Qi Yun found himself lulled by a rare sense of comfort. He still didn’t have the strength to open his eyes, lying there in a half-conscious haze, expression calm.

Ye Jiao had no idea what he was feeling. Though she was a reincarnated ginseng spirit, she had no ability to read minds—all she could sense was the burning heat radiating from his body.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Ye Jiao felt helpless in a way she never had before.

She wanted to touch his face, to check on him—but her hand wouldn’t stop trembling. Her fingertips, especially, were shaking uncontrollably, no matter how hard she tried to steady them.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but the only sound that escaped was a soft, incoherent mumble. Even she didn’t know what she was trying to say.

She stared at her hand in confusion, then reached up to touch her neck and nose.

It felt tight. Achy. The more she thought about the possibility that this man might not make it, the more that ache spread.

She had only been human for three days, freshly transformed from a ginseng spirit—but in those three days, Qi Yun had been the kindest person she’d met.

He poured tea for her, fed her pastries, and held her hand to reassure her, telling her she didn’t need to be afraid—that he would be there for her.

After being buried in the dirt for over a thousand years, Ye Jiao had always believed that being human meant one thing: getting to eat and drink freely.

Qi Yun had given her all of that. To her, that made him the best, most wonderful person in the world.

She hadn’t even fully understood what marriage meant yet, and she had already been given a husband who genuinely cared for her.

She didn’t want him to die.

At first, she told herself she had to save him because the memories in this body warned her how hard life would be as a widow.

But now, it wasn’t about that anymore. Now Ye Jiao truly didn’t want him to die.

Qi Yun had treated her so well—so incredibly well—and she knew in her heart there wouldn’t be another person like him.

Looking at him now, lying there so still, her mind was a mess of panic and noise.

She didn’t care whether she was barefoot. She didn’t care about the pounding of her heart. Ye Jiao bit her lip and slipped her hand beneath the covers, searching until she found his wrist.

Back when she was still a ginseng plant without a real body, she had to use her leaves to feel for pulses whenever her fellow spirits fell ill. It took a long time every time.

Now she had real hands, and taking a pulse was much easier—but this wasn’t the time to feel happy about it.

She gripped her right wrist with her left hand, trying to steady herself, forcing the trembling to stop. With her eyes closed, she focused on feeling Qi Yun’s pulse. After a few slow breaths, Ye Jiao finally exhaled.

The breath she’d been holding quietly slipped out, and as the tension left her body, she slumped slightly against the bedframe, suddenly weak with relief. Even so, she didn’t let go of his wrist.

Not to check his pulse anymore—but to hold it softly, as if that simple contact could bring her peace.

Seeing that Qi Yun hadn’t woken up yet, Ye Jiao whispered, “Thank goodness… thank goodness…”

Her spirit essence had healing properties. Just holding Qi Yun’s hand for a couple of days had already eased some of his symptoms. Though he still looked deathly pale—enough to quiet a crying child with just one glance—Ye Jiao could sense it: he was better than he had been on their wedding night, when a gust of wind might have knocked him over.

That small progress gave her hope. Last night, she’d quietly crawled into his arms, letting him hold her—just to see if the effect would be stronger.

It was.

Too strong, in fact.

Qi Yun’s body was too weak to handle her powerful essence. Her presence had overwhelmed him, and the chill of the early morning only made it worse. That’s what had triggered this episode.

Luckily, it wasn’t serious. As long as he could process the excess energy, not only would he recover, but his body would actually grow stronger.

Still, the shock had been too much. Clearly, they’d have to take things slowly from now on—gradual contact, hand-holding first, step by step.

Now that she was sure Qi Yun wasn’t in any real danger, Ye Jiao’s panic began to fade. But as her mind settled, she suddenly noticed a cool sensation on her cheeks.

Confused, she wiped her face with the back of her hand—only to find it wet. She blinked, curious, and gave it a quick lick.

Salty.

What… is this?

“Jiao-niang, don’t cry.”

A soft voice broke through her daze. Ye Jiao instinctively looked toward him.

That glance made Qi Yun, who had just woken up, hold his breath without realizing it.

He had always known she was beautiful—he’d seen it from the very first moment. Her face never showed the bitterness of hardship or the weight of uncertainty. Instead, she always looked vibrant, full of life. And when she smiled… she was utterly captivating.

The most beautiful thing about her was her eyes.

Large and luminous, clear as a mountain spring.

Now those eyes were misted with tears, the lashes damp. Though she had wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks, her gaze—washed clean by the crying—looked impossibly pure.

Qi Yun reached out and gently touched her face, his voice softer than ever.

“Don’t cry. The weather’s getting colder—too many tears might harm your eyes.”

But Ye Jiao was simply staring down at the dampness on the back of her hand.

I cried?

So this… is what tears are like?

Like she’d just had some kind of awakening, the little ginseng spirit forgot all her earlier panic. She curiously touched her eyes again, then glanced at her hand, tempted to give it another taste.

Qi Yun couldn’t help but laugh a little and gently pulled her hand away.

His mind was clearer now, and he slowly pushed himself up to lean against the pillows. Holding Ye Jiao’s hand in return, he said, “Go tell Xiaosu to fetch the physician—but quietly. Don’t alert my mother; she’ll only worry.”

Ye Jiao could tell he was going to be fine, so she didn’t ask any more questions. She nodded obediently. “Alright.”

She slipped on her shoes, threw on an outer robe, and stepped outside. Spotting Xiaosu sweeping the courtyard, she went over and asked her to get the physician.

Xiaosu instantly dropped her broom and darted off like a rabbit.

After the commotion earlier, it was still quite early—the sky had only just begun to brighten, and everything outside was still quiet and still.

While waiting for the physician to arrive, Ye Jiao poured some hot water, soaked a cloth, and carefully wiped her face. She combed her hair into a tidy bun, then returned to Qi Yun’s side to wipe his face as well. Finally, she handed him a cup of warm water with a bit of salt.

“Here—rinse your mouth.”

Ye Jiao had never taken the initiative to do these things before. In fact, everything she knew, she had learned bit by bit from Qi Yun himself. The Qi family wasn’t short on money—they even used salt water for rinsing their mouths. But since Qi Yun worried she might not understand these routines, he had patiently taught her everything by hand.

Now, seeing her bring over the salt water of her own accord, Qi Yun couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe the internal heat hadn’t completely subsided yet, but a soft flush still lingered on his cheeks, making him look much more alive than his usual ghostly pale self.

After rinsing his mouth, Qi Yun murmured with a hint of amusement, “Is this one of the rare perks of falling ill?”

Ye Jiao cleared her throat awkwardly. She didn’t dare admit that this entire incident had been caused by her well-meaning attempt to “help.” If she hadn’t acted so impulsively, he wouldn’t be lying here in the first place.

Still a little worried about his condition, Ye Jiao slipped her hand under the quilt again before the physician arrived.

Qi Yun blinked, startled, as he felt her delicate fingertips moving lightly over his arm. Instinctively, he shifted a bit.

“Jiao-niang… what are you looking for?”

Without even glancing up, she replied, “I’m checking.”

…Oh. Let her check, then.

Qi Yun relaxed back against the pillow, letting Ye Jiao explore his arm as much as she pleased.

Her soft fingers traced along his wrist over and over, then gently pressed along his forearm before letting go.

Qi Yun actually felt a little disappointed. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded if she’d kept going.

The moment that thought formed, he immediately scolded himself—what am I even thinking?!

When the physician finally arrived, no one else in the household was disturbed. Even if someone had noticed, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. Qi Yun regularly had physicians summoned. Even when he wasn’t feeling particularly ill, Madam Liu would still have one called over to check on him. Over time, it became routine.

After feeling his pulse and rustling through a string of medicine pouches, the physician finally gave his diagnosis: “Second Young Master’s pulse is steady. Just some residual internal heat—rest and quiet will do.”

At those words, both of them had their own internal reactions.

Ye Jiao: It’s my fault. I really shouldn’t have rushed things…

Qi Yun: It’s my fault. I really need to stop having those ridiculous dreams…

After seeing the physician out, Qi Yun turned to her and said, “Today’s the day you return to your parents’ home. Go get ready—we’ll head out soon.”

“No!”

Ye Jiao, who had never said “no” to Qi Yun before, shook her head firmly this time.

The weather was getting colder, and with Qi Yun’s body still burning with internal heat, he really needed to rest. If he insisted on going out now, even a gust of cold wind might knock him down again.

Ye Jiao didn’t try to hide her reasoning. As she tucked the quilt snugly around him, she said firmly, “You can’t move around. Didn’t the physician say you need to rest? That means no going out.”

But Qi Yun frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on her. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go back alone.”

Ye Jiao didn’t seem to mind at all. “Then I won’t go.”

This time, it was Qi Yun who shook his head. “You have to go today.”

It wasn’t that he particularly cared about keeping ties with the Ye family. In truth, their status and wealth were worlds apart. The Qi family was well-off and known throughout the surrounding villages, while the Ye family was so poor it echoed. If not for this unexpected marriage, their paths would never have crossed.

And the fact that the Ye family had been willing to send Ye Jiao into what they thought was a doomed marriage only made Qi Yun look down on them more.

Not that he had any illusions—he knew full well that he was the “doom” in that situation.

But even so, Qi Yun understood that while it didn’t matter if they cut ties with the Ye family in the future, they still had to keep up appearances for now.

The Ye family had accepted a generous bride price before marrying Ye Jiao off. The Qi family, in turn, had only sought a bride to “lift the gloom” from their sickly son. Both sides were perfectly aware of the transaction. Still, in public, not a single step of the process could be skipped.

One side didn’t want to be accused of “selling” their daughter, and the other didn’t want rumors about their son being a dying invalid. So everything that ought to be done had to be done properly.

Qi Yun didn’t care what people said about him—he’d been gossiped about for years and had long since grown numb to it.

But he didn’t want anyone talking behind Ye Jiao’s back. She was his rightful, properly wedded wife—his precious wife. He wouldn’t give anyone an excuse to speak ill of her.

Of course, none of this was something Qi Yun intended to tell her. He knew she didn’t understand these social games, and frankly, he didn’t want her to.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and coughed lightly before speaking.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to my mother later—she’ll have one of the maids accompany you. Xiaosu will go too. If you get tired on the road, stop and rest at our family’s medicinal garden. And if you don’t want to linger at your brother’s place, just make a short visit and come right back.”

Ye Jiao didn’t really mind where she was going. She didn’t fully understand why Qi Yun insisted, but she could tell he was saying all this with her in mind. If it was just a short trip, it didn’t bother her.

What really caught her attention… was the mention of the medicinal garden.

Ye Jiao could slowly help Qi Yun recover, but it would be a long process—and today’s incident had clearly taught her: she mustn’t rush it.

Still, his body was so frail that even a small illness could become something serious. She wanted to learn more about the medicinal herbs of this lifetime and how they differed from the ones she knew before. That way, she could start preparing early to take care of her husband.

She gently shook his finger. “Husband, where’s that medicinal garden you mentioned?”

Qi Yun assumed she was simply curious and replied with a warm smile, “You should pass by it on the road. Our family runs a pharmacy, and most of the herbs sold there are first processed at the garden.”

Ye Jiao’s eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly—suddenly looking forward to this trip back home.

But just as quickly, worry crept in again.

Qi Yun had collapsed that morning from a combination of internal heat and catching a chill after rising early. If she wasn’t there to watch over him, what if something happened again?

The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt—until an idea came to her.

She stood and walked into the outer room, opened a cabinet, and took out a pair of scissors. Then she pulled a strand of hair from her bun and carefully snipped it off.

It wasn’t as effective as staying by his side, of course, but since it came from her own body, leaving it with Qi Yun meant that if something truly went wrong… she might be able to sense it.

Ye Jiao grabbed a small embroidered pouch, stuffed the strand of hair inside, tied it tightly, then carefully fixed her hair back into a neat bun before returning to the inner room.

Qi Yun couldn’t quite make out what she had been doing, but when he saw the pouch in her hand, he recognized it—it was one of the ones he usually used to carry protective charms.

His mother, Madam Liu, had prayed to countless gods on his behalf over the years, so he had plenty of pouches like that lying around.

But when Ye Jiao pressed it into his hand, he noticed how light it felt—almost as if it were empty.

With rare solemnity, Ye Jiao told him, “Keep it with you, alright?”

Qi Yun assumed she believed it was another protective charm. He didn’t put much stock in such things, but when he met her clear, earnest gaze, he still nodded and agreed.

Just then, a servant arrived to summon Ye Jiao—sent by Madam Liu. Qi Yun figured it must be about her return visit home, so he casually tucked the pouch into his robe and patted Ye Jiao’s hand.

“Go ahead. Have a good talk with my mother. Do you want me to go with you?”

But Ye Jiao firmly insisted he stay and rest, then turned and left for Madam Liu’s courtyard.

Only after she was gone did Qi Yun finally stop holding back. A sudden fit of coughing overtook him.

He hadn’t felt faint, but his throat had been itching for a while now—ever since earlier that morning. After talking so much with Ye Jiao, it had only gotten worse. He had forced himself to stay composed so she wouldn’t worry, but now that she was gone, the cough burst out, harsh and relentless.

Outside, Xiaosu, who was sweeping the courtyard, jumped in fright. She might be scared of the always cold and somber Second Young Master, but she knew one thing for sure: if anything happened to Qi Yun, Madam Liu would make sure no one in this household had a good day.

As soon as she heard the coughing, Xiaosu ran over to the doorway and peeked in through the window, nervously asking, “S-Second Young Master… should I call the physician back?”

Qi Yun reached for the teacup Ye Jiao had left by the bed. The warm liquid soothed his throat a little.

He took a few breaths, then rasped out in a low, hoarse voice, “I’m fine. No need to alarm anyone.”

His voice was scratchy and deep, and Xiaosu—already a little scared of him—couldn’t help but tremble at the sound. In her mind, that raspy tone paired with his deathly pale face painted an eerie picture.

Then she heard his voice again from behind the window: “By the way, when you go with Jiao-niang for her visit later, keep a close eye on things. If anything happens, come straight back and tell me.”

Xiaosu shrank her neck in and answered in a small voice, “Got it.”

“Don’t be afraid to offend anyone. Just make sure she’s safe. Understand?”

“U-understood.”

When he didn’t say anything more, Xiaosu quickly let go of the window and scampered off.

She passed the black feathered shuttlecock on the ground—and picked up speed, sprinting even faster.

Second Young Master really is the scariest…!

=^_^=

Author has something to say: Physician: You’ve got a lot of internal heat.

Qi Yun: …I knew I shouldn’t have let my imagination run wild.

Ye Jiao: What were you imagining?

Qi Yun: cough cough cough