Volume One, Chapter 12: She Hurt Him
Xie Qiqi was stunned only for a moment before her second uncle shot her an impatient glare and scolded sharply.
“Saving a life is like putting out a fire! Why are you dazing off? If you’re scared, then get out... Don’t just stand there in the way!”
Determined to reach her goal, Xie Qiqi gritted her teeth, plunged her hand into a bowl of wine to wash it, and then picked up the needle.
When she was a servant in the official’s household, she had also done mending work; she told herself to think of this as sewing clothes!
Suppressing her fear, her hands trembling, she carefully stuffed the injured man’s intestines back into his abdomen and then drew the wound together, sewing it up with earnest concentration.
Could this really save a life?
Looking at the young and tender face of the wounded man, Xie Qiqi prayed silently that he would survive.
He looked about her age; if he died, his parents would surely be heartbroken.
After finally finishing the sutures, the second uncle came over to inspect the work and nodded with satisfaction.
“Good. Now go and sew up the other wounded! Just like that. You’re much better than that brat Wang Mian—he threw up and nearly passed out the first time he tried…”
He then turned and asked, “Moyuan, do you think this kid’s courage is enough for him to be my apprentice?”
Xie Qiqi instinctively followed his gaze.
A man sat by the window, one leg resting on another chair, his black Feiyu robe clinging to his long leg.
Moyuan?
The royal family of Dongyue bore the surname Mo; was he a member of the royal household?
Because his face was backlit, Moyuan’s features were shadowed, but Xie Qiqi immediately caught sight of his cold, star-like eyes.
He was strikingly handsome, with sculpted features sharp and stern.
His thick black eyebrows and high nose projected nobility and elegance, tinged with a proud, aloof defiance.
Xie Qiqi glanced once, then instinctively lowered her eyes.
The powerful aura of dominance he exuded stirred an innate fear in her—a reflex from her eight years as a servant.
She knew that someone like him could decide her life or death with a single word or glance.
“小 Bell, you sew up this man’s wound. Even second uncle says your skill is better than mine. Come on!”
Wang Mian gave her a shaky push.
It wasn’t that he lacked loyalty—he was simply terrified of Moyuan, the deadly god of war. He feared that if he hurt him, he’d be kicked flying.
Without time to refuse, Xie Qiqi took the medicine tray from Wang Mian and was pushed before Moyuan.
As the second uncle treated the other wounded, he smiled at Qiqi and said, “Kid, do well. If you perform well, I’ll take you as my apprentice!”
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Xie Qiqi was afraid of Moyuan too, but with no way to back down, she gritted her teeth and knelt to examine Moyuan’s injury.
His calf was cut by a sharp sword, tearing through his pants; a cloth strip had been hastily tied to stop the bleeding.
The blood had already soaked through the bandage.
Trembling, Xie Qiqi gently unraveled the cloth and fresh blood gushed out.
Seeing this, the second uncle ordered, “Tie a band around his thigh, then treat the wound!”
Xie Qiqi took a strip of cloth from the medicine tray, and since kneeling was inconvenient, she knelt properly to tie it.
Her hands shook so much she nearly dropped the cloth upon touching Moyuan’s hard thigh.
She dared not look at him, silently repeating in her mind: she was not offending Moyuan, she was only treating his injury.
Then, she washed her hands with strong liquor and cleaned the wound as the second uncle had instructed.
Moyuan’s skin was a deep bronze, starkly different from her own pale complexion.
His wound was gruesome, flesh and skin rolled back; when the alcohol touched it, Xie Qiqi saw his leg tremble once, then stiffen like stone.
It must hurt terribly!
She remembered how she nearly fainted from the pain when she lost a finger; such a horrifying wound surely pierced to the bone.
After cleaning the wound, she carefully drew the edges together and nervously pushed the needle into Moyuan’s flesh.
His leg twitched again!
Xie Qiqi froze in panic, shrinking back fearfully. Would he kick her away?
She forgot that the previous patient she had sewn was unconscious, but Moyuan was awake.
If she caused him pain, he surely wouldn’t spare her.
But after a brief pause, no punishment came.
“Continue…”
Moyuan merely uttered these two words.
His voice was as steady as a mountain, and this calmness inexplicably soothed Xie Qiqi’s fear.
He didn’t blame her!
Xie Qiqi let out a silent breath and lowered her head, no longer hesitating but continuing to sew.
The sharp gaze above felt like it was fixed on her, making her even more nervous.
She forced herself to focus on his wound.
The faster she worked, the less pain he would endure, and then he wouldn’t mind her having hurt him!
One stitch after another, she counted silently, sewing twenty stitches in all.
Moyuan must have fainted from the pain by now.
---
If it had been Xie Qiqi, she doubted she could have endured even two stitches with such raw, living flesh.
When she finally finished and bandaged the wound, she suddenly realized he was a man—and that a true lady should never be in such close contact with a man.
She had thought Moyuan had passed out, so it wouldn’t be awkward.
But when she looked up, his obsidian-like eyes were coolly watching her.
Startled, she quickly dropped her gaze.
Had her rude behavior angered him?
She was doomed; there was no way to escape this time!
Moyuan stood up, the hem of his black Feiyu robe brushing her shoulder as he strode away.
“Second Wang, if you really want to take this... kid as an apprentice, his courage still needs work…”
With that, Moyuan left.
His voice was rich and deep, yet the two words “kid” seemed loaded with meaning.
Xie Qiqi had the feeling he had seen through her disguise.
After all the chaos and once the wounded were treated, second uncle Wang Zhi, dragging his weary body, pulled Xie Qiqi aside.
“小 Bell, you did well today. I think you have talent. If you’re willing, I’ll take you as my apprentice!”
“You’ve seen that my methods differ from other doctors, but they work…”
Xie Qiqi looked up in surprise at Wang Zhi.
He was in his early forties, nearly seven feet tall and slender, with a dark red complexion. Beneath his tousled hair, his eyes were as black as ink.
His right leg was lame, which Xie Qiqi had noticed earlier from his limping.
Wang Zhi pounded his leg and said, “My uncle broke his leg young. If only he’d met someone who understood my medical skills, he wouldn’t have been crippled.”
“Bell, think of those wounded soldiers at the frontier. If you learn my medical skills, fewer people in this world will be maimed!”
Xie Qiqi thought of her father and elder brother—they were the soldiers second uncle spoke of.
She hoped to learn from Wang Zhi and someday help her father and brother.
But she had little time left to live; how could she have the energy to learn anything?
As the imperial physician approached and overheard their conversation, he shot a sharp glare at his unruly younger brother and scolded,
“Second brother, Bell won’t learn from you. Stop pestering her. Bell, go wash up, change your clothes, and head back early.”
The imperial physician had recognized Xie Qiqi and, though he hadn’t exposed her earlier, now wanted nothing more than for her to leave the Herbal Hall as soon as possible.