“Yes, but—” Song Huaiyu began.

  “Second Brother,” Song Huaizhang interrupted calmly, “I’ve already read the complete case file. Before Cousin Ping’an saved the woman, you had already tracked down that chartan Zhang Banxian. Even if she hadn’t intervened, once you brought Zhang Shi in for questioning, you could have deduced the truth on your own. Therefore, the credit rightfully belongs to you.”

  “Cousin Ping’an is a woman,” he continued, “delicate and frail. Why involve a young dy of the inner chambers in public cases, inviting rumors and trouble?”

  At the mention of Ji Ping’an, Song Huaiyu hesitated for a moment. But seeing that both his elder brother and father had made up their minds, he said no more.

  Since the contents of the case file had now been finalized, Minister Song and Song Huaizhang discussed a few additional details, polishing the narrative and completely erasing Ji Ping’an’s contributions from the official record.

  And with that, Song Huaiyu officially became the first to uncover the truth behind the strange funeral procession—and the one who used ice water to save a life.

  At the end of the discussion, Song Huaizhang patted Song Huaiyu on the shoulder. “Second Brother, I wish you a prosperous career ahead.”

  —

  The next morning, in Zichen Pace during court assembly, after the usual affairs had been handled, Emperor Zhou Sheng suddenly asked about the vacant position of Assistant Minister of Revenue.

  Minister of Revenue Vice Minister Cao Guang stepped forward. “Your Majesty, the term of Investigating Officer Song Huaiyu has concluded. During his two years of service, he assisted the Prefect and Deputy Prefect of Kaifeng in managing criminal cases and appeals, working diligently to redress injustices for the people. His record is outstanding. I recommend him for the vacant post of Assistant Minister of Revenue.”

  The position of Investigating Officer is seventh rank; the Assistant Minister is sixth rank. This would be a promotion.

  Seated on the dragon throne, Emperor Zhou Sheng’s gaze was sharp and cold as it swept down on the gathered officials below. The pace was majestic and imposing, and in contrast, the officials with their heads bowed appeared small and insignificant—just a sea of red-robed shadows, each harboring hidden motives.

  “Heh.”

  Zhou Sheng gave a faint, unreadable smile and accepted a memorial from the eunuch Fu Ruhai. It was the same document Vice Minister Cao Guang had written, carefully worded and backed by materials provided by the Song family.

  As the sound of the memorial being opened echoed through the near-empty hall, the officials lowered their heads even further.

  These days, the longer His Majesty sat on the throne, the more votile his moods became. No one could predict his whims—he was temperamental and inscrutable.

  Cao Guang held his breath.

  The standard procedure for a vacant sixth-rank assistant minister post was that the Ministry of Revenue would nominate from among those whose terms had ended. After internal review, the list would be submitted for imperial approval.

  Normally, the emperor didn’t personally ask about these things.

  But today, of all days, at the tail end of court, the emperor just happened to ask.

  “‘Evil heat lodged deep, yang energy blocked, cured by ice water,’” Zhou Sheng murmured as he lightly set the memorial down. His fingers tapped the desk rhythmically. “Which noble subject raised such a talented son? Song Huaiyu—what a brilliant young man.”

  “Your Majesty ftters us,” said Minister Song, stepping forward to bow. Though he’d been praised, his face showed no joy—only a sheen of sweat.

  Zhou Sheng continued, “Eight physicians couldn’t find the cause, yet your son identified it at a gnce—and even knew how to treat it…”

  “Your Majesty—” Minister Song quickly dropped to his knees, feeling cold all over.

  “What’s this now?” Zhou Sheng leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp and pyful like an icicle slicing flesh. “I was complimenting your parenting skills.”

  “Your servant… dares not accept such praise…” Minister Song’s back was soaked through with cold sweat.

  “Get up. You’ve raised a fine son—a true talent. I should reward you generously,” Zhou Sheng said with a smile. “Pass along my decree.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Everyone knelt.

  Zhou Sheng decred, “Song Huaiyu is learned and insightful. During his tenure as Investigating Officer, he uncovered hidden truths and rendered judgments swiftly and fairly…”

  Upon hearing this, Cao Guang and Minister Song exchanged subtle gnces. The emperor was offering such high praise—perhaps that earlier tone had only been a test. This could still go well.

  “…He has brought justice to the people, and the people are fortunate to have him. Since he works for the people, his office should not be a stepping stone for profit. By my special decree, Song Huaiyu will remain in his current role as Investigating Officer. His term is hereby extended for another five years, so that he may continue to serve the people.”

  Five years?

  Still Investigating Officer?

  That was as good as being sent to the cold pace.

  Minister Song felt his heart sink like a stone.

  Cao Guang was also stunned. He and Minister Song had made a deal—if Song Huaiyu’s promotion went through, Minister Song would repay him in kind. Now that the appointment had failed, their deal was dead in the water.

  Yet no matter how frustrated or resentful they were, neither dared question the emperor.

  Minister Song bowed deeply. “This servant thanks Your Majesty on behalf of my son for Your immense grace.”

  —

  The morning sun was soft and clear; the breeze was gentle and warm.

  Ji Ping’an offered her thanks to Old Madam Song, who held her prayer beads as she examined Ji Ping’an carefully. “After resting for a couple of days, your complexion looks much better.”

  Madam Song added, “She must’ve just been exhausted that day. Now that she’s settled into our household, with no more worries on her mind, her body will naturally recover with ease.”

  Ji Ping’an smiled sweetly. “With Old Madam and Madam treating me so kindly, assigning maids to serve me and inviting Doctor Li from Huichun Hall to see me, the whole Song household has been looking after me. I suppose my illness is one that bullies the weak and fears the strong. Now that it knows I have people to rely on, it didn’t dare stick around.”

  “Oh, what a honeyed tongue.” Madam Song ughed and waved to have breakfast served. “Sounds like we’ll have to love you even more—so that nasty illness doesn’t come back to bully our little Ping’an.”

  Soon after, a purely vegetarian breakfast was brought out—Old Madam Song was devout and only ate vegetarian meals.

  They chatted and dined for nearly half an hour. When breakfast was done and they’d exchanged a few more words, Ji Ping’an left with Dongchun.

  As they passed through the courtyard on the way back to her room, Ji Ping’an spotted Minister Song and Song Huaizhang at a distance.

  As the Investigating Officer, Song Huaiyu had left early for the yamen.

  Minister Song and Song Huaizhang, both required at court, had risen even earlier. Now, returning from court, it was still breakfast time.

  But at a gnce, Ji Ping’an could tell—both men looked rather grim. Their complexions were pale.

  Ji Ping’an was about to lower her head and keep walking when Song Huaizhang suddenly looked her way.

  The spring breeze stirred the air. In the garden, peach blossoms swayed among willow branches.

  Ji Ping’an couldn’t help but admire him—Song Huaizhang truly had a beautiful face.

  Pale skin like porcein, dark purple court robes worn casually, a tall and slender build. Wherever he stood, he exuded a quiet nobility. His gaze was gentle yet unreadable, giving the illusion of a righteous and virtuous gentleman.

  No wonder he’d so easily captured the heart of the original Ji Ping’an. No wonder he could keep his wife satisfied at home and still have countless admirers outside.

  (Transtor Xiaobai: That's why he is the male protagonist in the original novel.)

  Ah, beauty truly is a curse.

  Ji Ping’an thought to herself silently. If she couldn’t return to her own world, then she would absolutely have to find a husband to escape the Song family. And she definitely wouldn’t pick someone like that—tall, slender, handsome, but a wolf in schor’s robes. If she had to marry, she’d choose someone strong, dependable, and unmistakably masculine.

  She tugged Dongchun along and quickened her pace.

  Song Huaizhang’s gaze flickered slightly. So this was the delicate and sickly little cousin? She certainly was lovely—like a freshly bloomed peach blossom hanging on a branch.

  He withdrew his gaze. With Second Brother’s promotion now ruined, if the Song family wanted to climb higher, they would likely need more funds to grease the way.

  —

  After lunch, Doctor Li came hurrying back, dragging his junior disciple, Yan Xishan, behind him.

  Yan Xishan was notoriously arrogant and self-important. That very pride was why he couldn’t st in the Imperial Medical Bureau and had been kicked out. But even after leaving, his superb medical skills kept him in high demand.

  He was proud, stingy, and completely cking in a healer’s compassion. He only went where the money was. If a commoner offered less than ten taels, he wouldn’t even get out of bed. After nding a stable job in the Princess’s manor, he became even less willing to chase small change.

  So when Doctor Li had gone to ask him to treat Ji Ping’an, Yan Xishan had ignored him completely.

  Same school of medicine? So what?

  Senior disciple? Still no.

  No money, no deal.

  In the end, Doctor Li had no choice. He actually tied the man’s hands while he was napping, threw him into a carriage, and dragged him to the Song residence.

  “Hmph! I’m not doing any damn competition.” Yan Xishan shut his eyes haughtily. What was the point? If he lost, it’d be embarrassing. If he won—well, there was no money in it anyway.

  Doctor Li was furious. “Is silver your father or what?! You won’t even buy yourself a new robe! You’re still wearing the one Mistress made you ten years ago—it’s patched so much it can’t take any more thread. What the hell are you hoarding all that money for? Pnning to die with it stuffed in your grave?!”

  “Hmph,” Yan Xishan snorted through his nose and cmped his eyes shut tighter.

  Ji Ping’an gave Dongchun a look. Dongchun instantly understood and returned shortly with a thick stack of silver notes.

  Ji Ping’an began counting them one by one onto the table. “Let’s see… this one’s for a hundred taels, this one five hundred, this one… ah, a thousand taels…”

  One note after another, she id out more than twenty.

  Whoosh.

  Yan Xishan’s eyes flew open, rounder than fists. “Miss Ji, we’re just talking about a medical case, right? Come, come—give me your hand, I’ll take your pulse right now.”

  “Tch. Shameless,” Doctor Li muttered with a shake of his head, thoroughly embarrassed.

  Ji Ping’an smiled. “I know my condition well enough. Doctor Yan, Doctor Li says your skills are unmatched. I’m just curious—I’d like to learn from you.”

  “What a nice way to phrase it,” Yan Xishan said with a smirk. “But let’s be honest—you’re here to test me.”

  He held out his wrists and let Doctor Li untie him. Then he sat up properly across from Ji Ping’an. “All right. Let’s hear Miss Ji’s question.”

  Ji Ping’an said calmly, “I once saw a woman, three months pregnant, who frequently experienced chest pain and couldn’t eat or sleep. Her complexion was bluish, her tongue bright red. When I checked her pulse, the chi pulse was completely sunken and absent. Everyone said the fetus had died. So I ask you, Doctor Yan—could this child be saved in your hands?”

  “It could,” Yan Xishan replied, tilting his chin arrogantly. “A sunken chi pulse does not mean fetal death. It’s very likely the fetus was pressing against the mother’s heart, causing her pain. A few properly prescribed formus to regute qi and blood would resolve it, and the baby would be safely born.”

  He paused, then asked his own question. “Miss Ji, seven years ago, while traveling with my master, I encountered a man in the mountains. It was the height of summer—he suffered from insomnia, agitation, and deep red rashes across his body. His eyes were bloodshot like a rabbit’s. He drank from the well more than twenty times a day. His pulse was scattered and weak. Tell me, what was the cause of this?”

  Ji Ping’an responded evenly, “During extreme summer heat, restlessness and an urge for cold water, along with red eyes, generally indicate heatstroke.”

  Yan Xishan’s lips curled slightly.

  ___

  Transtor Xiaobai: 135 chapters, but about 2000 words per chapter is pretty good.