Placing down the boxes of merchandise, Jing Wen closed the dirty wooden door and began searching. The store had some writing hanging next to the medicine to label; the calligraphy was either fake or pretentious, somewhat challenging to read.


    Jing Wen walked behind the courter and, squeezing between it and the large medicine cabinet, and he entered the back garden. Hearing the sound of light snoring, Jing Wen frowned and said, “It’s long past noon, yet you are still napping?”


    The boy’s skin was unhealthily pale, to the point where one could see the veins beneath his skin. He had a weak build and appeared somewhat awkward in the large yet carefully embroidered medical jacket. His body was covered a large umbrella, sheltering him from the sun.


    The boy’s hand reached and took off the sleep mask covering his face. Looking at Jing Wen, he was somewhat dazed at first - perhaps as Jing Wen’s robes were too vibrant. He quickly recovered and flashed a somewhat foolish smile, saying, “Jing Wen, who visits my shop aside from you and the Crown Prince. We’re all close friends by now, no need to be annoyed that I did not attend to you at the counter.”


    Hearing his tired and youthful voice, Jing Wen could not remain upset at the boy. His voice and expression, however, remained cold. “Your mother left you to the store to gain experience and increase the prestige of Miao medicine, not for you to laze about.”


    The boy casually hung the sleep mask by the handle of the chair he was resting on. Waving his hand in the air, he dismissed Jing Wen’s words.


    Looking at the boy’s slothful appearance, the suppressed dismay in Jing Wen surged up once more. “Shen Yanlin (沈咽林), if your mother saw you right now, she would bring you back to Jiajiu (加鸠) Village without hesitation.”


    Shen Yanlin was short and feeble, but he was only twelve. His cheeks still had much baby fat to them, and his voice was exceptionally youthful. Hearing Jing Wen’s harsh rebuke, Shen Yanlin’s face grew red as he retorted, “You’re not my mother. Why are you coming to my clinic, anyway? To yell at me?”


    Jing Wen was silent for a moment before he said, “I need some shrapnels removed.”


    Shen Yanlin was stumped. Standing up from his chair, his did not notice that his abrupt movement accidentally caused the eye mask slid off the chair.


    “How did you get injured? Aren’t you a Qi Manifestation cultivator? Why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning?”


    Shen Yanlin’s questions fired off none stop, and his voice cracked several times in the process, sounding somewhat silly.


    His mother was a well respected martial artist and an even more revered physician. She had once treated the Crown Prince when he was a newborn and suffering from illness, causing a close bond to form between her and the Imperial family. After Shen Yanlin was born, the Crown Prince viewed himself as his bigger brother, frequently playing with the young boy in the capital. As Jing Wen was the Crown Prince’s study partner at the time, he naturally would have grown close to Shen Yanlin.


    In fact, Shen Yanlin looked up to Jing Wen more than the Crown Prince, since Jing Wen was a powerful martial artist like his mother, while the Crown Prince only knew how to hold a pen. Even after Jing Wen lost his cultivation, this idea still subconsciously persist. Thus, to learn that Jing Wen was injured, to Shen Yanlin, was akin to the sky shattering and crashing upon him.


    Shen Yanlin quickly entered into the storefront and began rummaging through the medical cabinet. After all the drawers were opened, and Shen Yanlin was slightly panting, he said, “Jing Wen, I don’t have any anesthetic.”This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Jing Wen was slightly confused, asking, “Anesthetics?”


    Shen Yanlin rubbed his small hands on his robes. He quickly answered, “It’s made from concentrated Gu poison, and could lessen the pain of treatment. Only my mother is capable of refining, but she forgot to leave any of it at the clinic.”


    Jing Wen did not think that a little wound would cause Shen Yanlin so much uproar. Feeling a little helpless, he said, “Than just treat me without it.”


    Shen Yanlin, as he was still somewhat nervous, waved his two-hand around while saying, “How can I do that? Without anesthetic, the pain would be unbearable. Usually, my mother would also cover the patient’s head with a quilt before beginning the operation… But there is no need for your case.”


    Jing Wen asked, “You’re treating the torso. Why cover their head with a quilt?”


    Shen Yanlin knew Jing Wen had fortunately not taken offence to his words. Shaking his head wildly, he explained, “In most cases, the pain and sight of blood would the patient to tremble, leaving the surgeon unable to operate properly.”


    Jing Wen walked next to Shen Yanlin. Rubbing the Miao boy on the head, he said, “I’ve seen your knife before. It’s many times smaller than my sword, yet not as small as the smallest weapon that I have seen. It is also many times sharper than my sword, yet not the sharpest weapon I have experienced.”


    Shen Yanlin was silent for a while. After looking at the blind youth for a long moment, he said with a reluctant smile, “Very well. But you still have to wait for some time, since these sort of operations require two pairs of hands, I must get an assistant.”


    Zhou Aimin was conversing with Yang’er when he overheard this. Looking at Shen Yanlin, he calmly said, “I have seen operations on soldiers at the Northern frontier and possess a steady hand from the time at the Taoist temples. I will do it.”


    In truth, Shen Yanlin had said those words to prolong the delay the operation. Yet upon hearing Zhou Aimin’s last words, he felt a little odd.


    It was merely four words. It wasn’t a command, but it felt irresistible. It was something that couldn’t be denied.


    Somewhat stumped, he silently retrieved a set of surgical knives from one of the drawers. Carrying it in a bundle of cloth, he brought Jing Wen and Zhou Aimin back to the back garden.


    Jing Wen sat on a porcelain stool, where there was ample sunlight shining through the towers and pavilions that covered Lin’an’s skyline. He removed his robe and shirt and chewed on some pastries they had brought earlier, not showing the slightest degree of fear.


    Shen Yanlin quickly disinfected the knives with hot water and brought a basin beneath Jing Wen’s body. Giving one of the pair of scalpels to Zhou Aimin, he rolled up his oversized sleeves, exposing his wrist and fingers. Before the operation had begun, sweat has already permeated Shen Yanlin’s forehead, yet his hands remained perfectly steady.


    All his medical knowledge was taught to him by his mother through first-hand experiences. Though he had performed surgery before, it was with his mother acting as the ‘assistance’. This was why he only knew had to perform operations with the help of another, before he had never treated a person without his mother.


    Zhou Aimin however, was far calmer in this situation. The scalpel in his hands was already rested on Jing Wen’s swollen skin and silently waiting. As Shen Yanlin’s knife punctured Jing Wen’s vigorous skin, Zhou Aimin quietly followed the Miao boy’s instructions. Only through the strange expression on his face would one realise he was only an amateur.


    As the blood dripped into the basin, the smell of iron spread throughout the back garden. Yang’er, who was watching the operation, could not bear the sight and smell of blood. Her face quickly turned pale, and she fled back into the storefront.


    Her disappearance was unnoticed by Zhou Aimin and Shen Yanlin. Only Jing Wen, who was still casually chewing on the pastries, noticed her flight. His face betrayed no sign of fear as he softly asked, “How is the situation?”


    The two pairs of knives collective stopped as Shen Yanlin said, “The technique used by that man is bizarre, converting Qi into poison. Fortunately, you had come to me early, or else the poison would have seeped into your organs. However, the flesh surrounding the pebbles need to be removed.”


    Jing Wen had not expected Hong Fu’s technique to be so unorthodox, and that his choice to remove the shrapnels early would have potentially saved his life. He firmly replied, “The man is dead, so there is no need for revenge against him or his family.”


    After a long moment of silence, he said, “I am glad that I had the good fate to seek you early.”


    Shen Yanlin gave an ‘em’, and the knife in his hand began moving once more. The sharp edge moved within Jing Wen’s body like the dance of Dong Xiaoxiao (董小小), the famous courtesan in Lin’an. Everything Shen Yanlin slightly moved his wrist, a cut was opened, the poisoned flesh was removed, and blood was spilt.


    Zhou Aimin was not idle either. Each of his movement was decisive and steady like a mountain. When Shen Yanlin hesitates, one of his knives would gently nudge the hands of the Miao boy, prompting the incision to the complete without excessive blood spilt.


    Once the operation was complete, the originally half-full basin beneath Jing Wen’s body was overflowing with reddish water. Yet despite the vast quantity of blood, seldom a drop spilled outside the basin.


    When the wound has been cleaned, sewed and dressed, Jing Wen stood up from the porcelain chair. Putting on his shirt, he packed up the leftover pastries and left the back garden.