After observing the condition of the infected civilians, Ji Zhaohé returned to her residence. On the way, Jiang Deming couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Your Highness, why didn’t you take him in?”

Ji Zhaohé leaned back in the carriage, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She lowered her gaze to look at her hands. Why didn’t I take him? He was quite handsome, his face soft, and he cried so beautifully. Why didn’t I?

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t tempted. Since arriving here, everything had been tailored to serve women. In such an environment, women didn’t prioritize love. Taking a concubine was merely a form of amusement for them.

She let out a long sigh. One crybaby is enough.

Her energy should be focused on Shen Qingtang if she wanted to protect her own life. Matters like this could wait until later.

When she returned to the residence, Shen Qingtang was already asleep. Ji Zhaohé sat by the bed, staring at his pale face for a long time. Gently, she pulled his hand out from under the quilt and began massaging the acupoints that could relieve coughing.

Her feelings were truly conflicted. This matriarchal society was undoubtedly the world she had always longed for, yet everything here felt unfamiliar. She had to navigate it all carefully, step by step, fearing that a single misstep could plunge her into an abyss.

Despite her noble status, she felt as though she were walking on a knife’s edge every moment. She dared not move recklessly, terrified of the consequences. Instead, she numbed herself by traveling and enjoying nature, pretending to be a carefree idler.

Here, she had no confidants. A torrent of words remained trapped inside her, with no one who could understand even if she spoke them. It was utterly suffocating.

Even the person sharing her bed was little more than a stranger she had known for only a few days.

Her every move was observed—by the Empress, the Crown Princess, the Imperial Consort, or those secretly inspecting her.

The events in the book were merely the tip of the iceberg. Everything revolved around the female protagonist, but the stories of the side characters were also unfolding. Those destined to die would still die. She had no pen to change the outcome.

“Wife…” Shen Qingtang woke in a daze, his head heavy. The room was unlit, with only the moonlight from outside illuminating the figure beside him.

His hand was enveloped in a warm, larger hand, rhythmically massaging a specific point. The pressure was gentle and soothing, and his throat felt less itchy.

Seeing him awake, Ji Zhaohé helped him up and pulled him into her embrace. With one hand, she reached for the cup of water on the table and brought it to his lips.

Shen Qingtang’s body was weak and limp. He drank slowly from her hand, finishing the entire cup after a while. Frowning, he tried to turn and look at her but was firmly held in place. “Don’t move,” she said.

After a few seconds of silence, Shen Qingtang whispered, “If you stay here, you might catch my illness.”

Ji Zhaohé rested her chin on his head, never stopping the acupressure. “It’s fine,” she replied wearily.

After pressing each acupoint a hundred times, Ji Zhaohé finally stopped. After a moment’s thought, she called out, “Tangtang.”

Shen Qingtang was on the verge of falling asleep again in her comforting embrace. Hearing her voice, he softly hummed in response.

His wife was usually talkative, but tonight she was unusually quiet.

Ji Zhaohé spoke slowly, “Today, at the shelter, a young man begged me to save his mother. He grabbed my hand and pulled it into his robe. I pulled back immediately.”

She added, “That young man was originally intended to be a concubine for the county magistrate. He had gone to her for help, but she kicked him away. That’s why he came to me.”

“I’m sorry, Tangtang.”

Shen Qingtang lowered his gaze to the large hand enveloping his. “Your Highness has done nothing to apologize for. He was desperate, that’s all. You couldn’t have anticipated it, could you?”

Ji Zhaohé concealed the complexity in her eyes. “Mm.”

Shen Qingtang asked, “What will you do with him, Your Highness? Take him as a concubine?”

Ji Zhaohé shook her head, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “I’ll have the county magistrate take him in.”

“But…” No one was at fault, yet since Her Highness had touched him, the young man’s reputation would inevitably suffer. His future would likely be difficult.

“Wife, send him to Lingyin Pavilion,” Shen Qingtang suggested. Though he disliked Yan Li, he couldn’t deny the value of Lingyin Pavilion. Regardless of the founder’s intentions, it had genuinely helped many men.

Ji Zhaohé agreed with his suggestion. In those few moments of conversation, Shen Qingtang grew drowsy again, his eyes fluttering shut in her arms.

Ji Zhaohé tucked the stray strands of hair behind his ear and snugly tucked him under the quilt. “I won’t stay with you tonight. Rest well.”

“…Okay.”

She gently closed the door behind her. Jiang Deming was waiting outside, holding a bowl of medicinal brew. “Your Highness, you spent so long with the Master. Please drink this medicine,” he said softly.

The brown liquid glimmered coldly under the moonlight. Ji Zhaohé threw her head back and drank it in one gulp. The bitterness shot straight to her throat, making her nauseous.

Jiang Deming asked, “Did you explain everything to the Master?”

Ji Zhaohé nodded. Relieved, Jiang Deming said warmly, “The Master is magnanimous. Even if you had brought that young man back, he wouldn’t have objected.”

Under the moonlight, Ji Zhaohé shook her head. Standing in the courtyard with her hands behind her back, her gold-embroidered white robe took on a sacred glow in the moonlight. “It’s not the same.”

Him understanding is one thing, but acting on it is another.

Jiang Deming stood frozen. The moonlight outlined the young woman’s slender figure. Her gold-embroidered white robe fluttered gently in the wind, its sleeves billowing as if an immortal had descended to the mortal world.

The Third Princess… she had truly changed.

The next day, the imperial guards delivered the court’s medicinal supplies to the shelter before returning to report to the Third Princess.

Since the Third Princess refused to return to the capital, there was nothing they could do but stay by her side to ensure her safety.

Shen Qingtang recovered remarkably quickly after taking the medicine, largely due to the medicinal meals Ji Zhaohé had ordered for him.

Ji Zhaohé borrowed the physician’s acupuncture set, intending to perform acupuncture on him to speed up his recovery.

Shen Qingtang repeatedly refused, shrinking into the corner of the bed, unwilling to come out.

He could understand the Third Princess knowing some pharmacology—perhaps she had picked it up from books in her idle time. But acupuncture? Shen Qingtang shook his head. He had never heard of the Third Princess possessing such a “talent” in the capital. If she had learned it from books, he was likely to be her first live test subject.

“Tangtang,” Ji Zhaohé called out helplessly. The “Shen rabbit” seemed ready to burrow into the cracks of the bed.

“Don’t you want to get better faster? I heard from the guards that your mother has come too. She must be worried and here to see you,” Ji Zhaohé coaxed gently. “Do you want her to worry?”

The “Shen rabbit” remained motionless. Ji Zhaohé grew impatient. In her clinical experience, she hated patients who outright refused treatment, insisting that medicine alone was enough, only to blame the doctor later when the results were unsatisfactory.

Her expression cooled, and her tone turned flat. “Shen Qingtang.”

Ji Zhaohé rarely used his full name. Shen Qingtang didn’t dare hide any longer. He lifted his head, catching a glimpse of the coldness and impatience in her eyes, and shrank back slightly before slowly crawling to the edge of the bed. He tugged at her sleeve. “Wife… I’m scared.”

His obedient gesture softened her expression. “It won’t hurt,” she said gently.

But that night, you said the same thing, and in the end, he was exhausted to the point of nearly fainting… Shen Qingtang bit his tongue, not daring to say more.

Shen Qingtang lay obediently on the bed, facing upward. Ji Zhaohé skillfully untied his robe. The young man was slender, with a slim and supple waist. Her gaze darkened as she stared at his pale, soft stomach, but she didn’t pull the robe any further down.

The sudden exposure to the air sent shivers through his body. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the carved wooden window, glinting off the slender silver needles with a cold gleam. Shen Qingtang tensed up, not daring to move.

Ji Zhaohé sighed. “Relax.”

She quickly dipped a clean handkerchief into the wine from a bowl and gently wiped it over several acupoints and the surrounding areas. The cool, soft cloth pressed against his delicate skin, circling and wiping, bringing waves of tingling sensations. Shen Qingtang couldn’t help but shudder.

Ji Zhaohé paused for a few seconds. She knew Shen Qingtang’s body was exceptionally sensitive—perhaps a mischievous setting in this book—but she couldn’t help feeling a stir of desire. Her wiping grew slightly firmer.

Those few seconds of disinfection felt like an eternity to Shen Qingtang. Embarrassed, he turned his head away, deliberately avoiding her gaze, and bit his lip hard.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Third Princess had learned acupuncture from those kinds of books… So indecent.

The fine needles had already been soaked in a medicinal brew made from mugwort, atractylodes, angelica, and other herbs. Seizing the moment when he wasn’t paying attention, Ji Zhaohé swiftly and accurately inserted the first needle.

“Mmm—” The muscles along the young man’s neck tensed abruptly, and he instinctively arched backward.

“Does it hurt?” Ji Zhaohé steadied his trembling shoulder.

A thin sweat broke out on Shen Qingtang’s neck. “It hurts,” he mumbled.

Ji Zhaohé glanced down at the acupoint. “Liar.” She inserted another needle.

“It really hurt when it went in just now!” He gripped the bedsheet tightly, his lower lip almost bleeding.

Ji Zhaohé tilted her head, studying his slender, vulnerable neck. “And now?” Her fingertips applied subtle pressure, rotating the needle slowly at the acupoint. The young man gasped sharply, a broken breath escaping his throat. “It feels heavy… but it doesn’t hurt much anymore.” As if muttering to himself or confirming something, his gaze drifted downward, trying to see where the needle was.

Ji Zhaohé suddenly chuckled. By the time the second needle pierced his skin, the muscles in Shen Qingtang’s neck, which had tensed instinctively, had already relaxed on their own. Clearly, the first needle hadn’t hurt. It was the rotation of the needle that must have been sore and painful, yet he claimed it didn’t hurt.

Ji Zhaohé continued with the acupuncture. There weren’t many acupoints to target, just a bit scattered. After finishing, she put away the needles and stood up to pour herself a cup of cold tea.

Shen Qingtang couldn’t move his upper body and was bored lying there, so he asked curiously, “Your Highness, when did you learn medicine?”

From a distance, he didn’t notice Ji Zhaohé’s slight pause as she drank her tea.

Ji Zhaohé made up an excuse casually. “I read medical books when I was bored.”

Just as he had thought. Shen Qingtang pressed further, “And the acupuncture? Did you learn it from books too? Have you performed it on others before?”

Ji Zhaohé replied, “I’ve done it plenty of times.” She had practiced on her roommates daily during training sessions.

Plenty of times? Then hadn’t the wife seen many men’s bodies? But… before marriage, the Third Princess had numerous consorts. Seeing bodies seemed trivial in comparison.

At this thought, Shen Qingtang felt a lump in his throat. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t cared before. Who didn’t have companions before marriage?

As long as there were none now, it was fine.

Ji Zhaohé waited a moment, but when he didn’t ask further, she suddenly realized she had misspoken. She hadn’t performed acupuncture on anyone here. If he asked Jiang Deming, she would be exposed!

She added, “But you’re the first real person I’ve done it on. Before, I practiced on wooden figures.”

Wooden figures, my foot! How could anyone insert needles into something so hard? Her mind was becoming increasingly unreliable!

Ji Zhaohé slumped with a dead-fish expression. Whatever happens, happens. If I’m exposed, so be it. She had completely given up.

Why could others spout nonsense after transmigrating and have it believed? Weren’t they afraid of being exposed? Or did they all have IQs over 200?

Shen Qingtang hadn’t expected Ji Zhaohé to explain. Instantly, his gloom vanished, and he praised sweetly, “Wife, you’re amazing!” Even if something went wrong, he wouldn’t mind!

All his pre-acupuncture anxiety about being a live test subject disappeared. Instead, he smiled as if he had been poisoned by the needles.

If Ji Zhaohé knew what he was thinking, she would probably spit out her tea.