Su Majestad - Capítulo 77
Is it worth ruining a doctor's career because of one patient?
And he himself had indeed been too willful. He wasn't unaware of the dangers of acupuncture, but he couldn't tolerate having the ability yet doing nothing for his patients. Besides, he thought nothing could stump him; if he could cure others, why couldn't he cure himself?
He gritted his teeth, rushed forward quickly, and knocked over his disciple's medicine tray without realizing it.
The disciples knew he was ill and in a bad mood, but this was the first time they had ever seen him with such a ferocious expression, and they were stunned. He had already gone far away in the setting sun.
Zhan Yuan and Du Zixin only learned of Yang Luoxue's departure that evening. Du Zixin scolded the disciple for being foolish: "Didn't you know he was still sick? You couldn't stop him, why didn't you come and tell him?"
The disciple muttered, "What Senior Brother is going to do, not only can we not stop him, but even you, Uncle, might not be able to stop him."
Du Zixin glared at him, about to scold him, but Zhan Yuan quickly stopped him and asked why Yang Luoxue was walking east. Du Zixin was stunned for a moment and then he knew.
He went to Sading City.
He hadn't actually planned to go anywhere; it was only after mounting his horse and galloping for a while that he realized he was on his way to Suoding City.
This discovery stirred a pang of anxiety within him, and the urge to see her surged like a tidal wave. Even though he knew she must be forging swords in Beiling Tower, he still spurred his horse forward.
Seeing her, hearing her speak, her image vividly appeared before his eyes. He missed her as much as a person in the desert longs for water.
He didn't take any money with him when he went out, and he neither rested nor ate or drank. He didn't care how tired he was, as if he wanted to severely torment this body that had disappointed him.
In his current state, he reached his limit by the second night. His head began to spin, and the stars above him twinkled and suddenly swirled like ribbons of light. His hands finally gave way, and he could no longer hold onto the reins, falling off his horse.
A vast expanse of stars unfolded before my eyes, shimmering hazily. The winter meadows had an exceptionally dry scent that seeped into my very being.
This was his last awareness.
He woke up in a farmhouse, where a blue cloth curtain came into view, along with a child's face. As soon as he opened his eyes, the child called out, "Daddy! Grandpa's awake!"
Footsteps sounded at the door. A man in his thirties, dressed as a hunter, strode in and asked, "How are you, sir?"
It seems neither father nor son has very good eyesight. Yang Luoxue sighed and asked, "Did you save me?"
Chapter 151
"Your disciple brought you here. He said you're too weak to travel, otherwise he would have taken you to town. He went to buy medicine himself." He added enviously, "The old lady is so well-preserved. If it weren't for the fact that your disciple is also so old, I would have thought your hair was fake. People often say 'white hair and youthful face,' which must refer to someone like you!"
His voice was loud and fast, making Yang Luoxue's ears ring and her head buzz. "What did you say?"
Seeing his pale face, the hunter quickly said to his son, "Go and see if Young Master Zhan has returned yet—"
At this moment, the hunter's wife heard that the patient had woken up, and hurriedly brought in some white porridge as instructed by Master Zhan, saying, "Old man, have some thin porridge. Master Zhan said you haven't eaten for two days." As she spoke, she sat down by the bedside, scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to his lips.
His lips were extremely pale, as if devoid of color. His heart pounded, and his vision blurred. With great effort, he raised his hand, plucked a strand of hair from the pillow, and brought it to his eyes.
In a single glance, all color vanished, his hands trembled violently, and he abruptly sat up, his long hair billowing to his chest—that flowing, beautiful hair, the hair he had always cherished, was now unrecognizable to him. He suddenly cried out, his hand flashing out, striking the bowl of porridge squarely. The scalding porridge spilled onto the back of his hand, quickly turning his skin red and raw, but he felt nothing. He breathed heavily, his eyes slowly lifting to look at the two of them, his eyes faintly red-rimmed, his pupils seemingly turning gray. He asked, "Mirror—mirror—bring me the mirror—"
Her voice was hoarse, a stark contrast to the soft, pleasant voice she had just spoken.
The hunter couple were terrified and stammered, "We're poor, we don't...we don't have a mirror..."
His bones clattered softly, making a "crackling" sound. He slowly raised his trembling hand and plucked a hair from his head.
Her hair was long and shiny.
However, her hair was snow-white from end to tip.
Only an eighty-year-old woman would have such a pure white color, without a single blemish.
Inside the North Ling Tower in Suoding City, Baili Wushuang's fingertips trembled inexplicably. A chill ran from his fingertips to his arm and then to his chest. It felt like being pricked by a needle.
She frowned slightly, and Uncle Gong, who was standing next to her, misunderstood, "Miss, is there a problem?"
"No, no problem."
Uncle Gong breathed a sigh of relief. In the past, forging swords in both the old and new years usually took at least two years. This piece of Ice Road Frost Iron, however, was almost ready to be forged in less than a year. The young lady used the hottest charcoal and expended more sword energy than ever before. If this wasn't Ice Road Frost Iron, then probably no other iron could withstand this level of smelting.
This method of sword forging made everyone around hold their breath—they were constantly facing the danger of the furnace exploding. If it were to explode, not only would the Jia-character sword furnace be in grave danger, but the entire Beiling Tower would be in serious peril.
Uncle Gong's worries were everyone's worries, so when the sword was forged and everyone watched the young lady pick it up from the sword-washing pool, in addition to joy and excitement, they also felt a sense of relief, thinking, "Oh my god, she's finally alive!"
Uncle Gong asked the name of the sword that had caused them nearly a year of anxiety, and the young lady thought for a moment and said, "Let's call it Falling Snow."
Chapter 152
The sword's blade was clear and bright, reflecting one's face like a mirror.
That night she took her sword and left the city.
She walked in a hurry, but her eyes were bright. No one in the city knew where she had gone.
When we arrived at the gate of Xuyu Temple, it was still dark. The sky was mostly dark, with only a few scattered stars. The winter night wind chilled our faces.
She stood at the mountain gate for a while, wanting to feel the cold wind. Her heart was pounding. In the quiet night, thump, thump, it felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest.
She had felt this way once before. At that time, on the street outside the inn, he took her reins, and sweetness and panic came together. Only then did the head of the prestigious city of Suoding realize that she too could have an indescribable day.
A surge of immense happiness and anticipation spread out like wings behind her, as if ready to carry her away at any moment. Today, she was getting married.
The wedding was a private affair, with no one invited; it was just the two of them. And there was this peach blossom grove that had witnessed their meeting.
It was around dawn; she had arrived too early, and their agreed time was dusk. But she wanted to see the expression on his face as he stepped onto those stone steps.
The young man in white and blue robes descended the stone steps slowly. She hadn't paid much attention then. But standing at the mountain gate, looking up, the winding stone steps were half-hidden in the twilight, the shadows of the trees swaying, and his figure appeared before her eyes, his back ramrod straight, his neck ramrod straight, a proud posture, his eyes half-closed, as if absent-minded. A young novice monk walked behind him, a faint scent of medicine lingering in the air.
I didn't pay much attention to that person back then, but when my memory turned to him, every detail was vividly clear, no matter when or where.