Chapter 17: Seventeen, Butterfly Knot and Surprise

Seventeen, Butterfly Knot and Surprise

A flame burned in Ouyang Rong’s heart, growing fiercer by the moment.

Yet he had no way to release it.

He had not come here to ravish wives, daughters, or young sisters!

But upon closer reflection, his actions over the past two days, in the eyes of many in this world, were indeed unmistakably heading in that direction.

Imagine: a young county magistrate, not a physician, repeatedly visiting a poor household to “check on the sick,” visiting a terminal patient, speaking words of comfort, readily accepting invitations to dinner without hesitation, showing no restraint whatsoever…

What else could you possibly be after but the only remaining girl in the family, the one rare, fresh, and lively little sister? Surely not her elderly mother? A bit beastly—but not entirely unacceptable…

So, you don’t seriously intend to stay for dinner, do you?

Dinner is merely a veil of propriety; behind it lies the unspoken rule everyone accepts…

Yet this was not what angered Ouyang Rong most. What truly made him clamp his lips tight, flaring his nostrils, his face flushed with blood was… they all treated it as normal.

Ash treated it as normal.

Liu’s mother treated it as normal.

Aqing also treated it as normal.

Everyone in the Great Zhou Empire treated it as normal.

Even Ouyang Rong believed that if the world learned of this now, it would not damage his reputation as a righteous gentleman—perhaps only stripping him of the title “not interested in women.”

Because Aqing’s family was merely the lowest of slaves, while what was Ouyang Rong’s status? Wasn’t Ouyang Lianghan performing a “great act of benevolence”? He might even become a celebrated tale among scholars—a virtuous gentleman who took in a slave girl out of kindness…

And this—this was the source of the flame burning in Ouyang Rong’s heart.

He was no saint, yet he did not treat it as normal.

“If everyone treats something as normal, does that make it right?”

In the dim room, Ouyang Rong silently draped his removed Confucian robe over Aqing, picked up the sash from the floor, and knelt to carefully tie it around the slender girl’s waist.

Aqing was short; he had to kneel on the mat so their heights matched, making the task easier.

“Does Master find Aqing unattractive?”

“No. It’s because I find Aqing far too attractive.”

Aqing’s small face twisted in confusion; Ouyang Rong gently shook his head and said no more.

What he was thinking now was how to make Aqing and Liu’s mother believe his treatment plan—should he just tell them outright… wait, yes, that’s exactly what he’d do.

Ouyang Rong directly took Aqing to Liu’s mother, feigning confidence and certainty, telling them he had a family-secret divine prescription, proven a hundred times, capable of curing Liu Ashan’s tetanus—but they must cooperate, and time was tight.

Instantly, Ouyang Rong saw in the eyes of mother and daughter the hope born of reverence and superstition toward authority.

“...Two qian of Dannanxing , one whole scorpion, ground into powder, taken with a cup of yellow wine…”

After giving the prescription, he paused, then added:

“Besides the divine formula, there are auxiliary methods requiring your cooperation… First, the wound must be cleaned again… and don’t cover him with such thick quilts anymore—ventilation is needed…”

Ouyang Rong had expected the later steps—regular wound cleaning, fumigation with mugwort smoke, removal of necrotic tissue and foreign objects—might frighten them, but to his surprise, Aqing and Liu’s mother grew even more convinced.

They said some Daoist physicians used incense smoke and talisman water to bathe wounds, curing all illnesses…

Ouyang Rong fell silent, unsure whether they were mimicking him or he was mimicking them.

But he did not deny their delusions; he merely smiled and nodded, appearing profoundly mysterious.

Weakness and ignorance are not obstacles to survival—arrogance is. And the poor have least of all: arrogance.

Ouyang Rong carefully explained the details to Liu’s mother; beside him, Aqing, wrapped in someone else’s clothes, gazed up at his face, as if wanting to say something, yet lowered her head in shyness and self-loathing.

Yet those eyes, long clouded by sorrow, now glimmered faintly with renewed hope.

Back in the dim sickroom, the sick man on the bed lay wrapped in quilts like a shroud, his face stiff and tinged with the gray pallor of approaching death. Suddenly, he convulsed in pain; Aqing and Liu’s mother rushed over, clutching a quilt and embracing him tightly, calming him after a long while.

The mother and daughter told the weakened Ashan about the “divine prescription.” Ouyang Rong noticed the Qingmian man’s expression grow complex; he stepped forward and said only one thing to him:

“Liu Ashan, once you recover, settle your mother and sister, then come down the mountain to find me—I’ll be waiting at the county office. You won’t die.”

Liu Ashan froze.

Ouyang Rong turned and took his leave.

Whether this prescription from his past life as a barefoot doctor would work depended entirely on whether Liu Ashan’s fate was strong enough. He had done all he could—including words of encouragement.

Inside the room, the slender, delicate girl suddenly remembered something, snatched up an umbrella, and ran after him—but the young magistrate had already vanished into the sparse, dark rain.

Aqing held the oil-paper umbrella, careful not to let rain soak her rolled-up hem, standing on tiptoe in the rain, gazing at the direction he had gone. After a long while, she lowered her head and looked at the man’s robe she wore, its scent lingering on her skin. Most striking of all was the butterfly-shaped knot he had tied at her waist.

Aqing reached out and touched the sash knot.

Though skilled with her hands, she had never seen such a tying method before—it resembled… the butterfly flowers by the stream below the mountain.

…

That night, Ouyang Rong returned to the Cloud-Top Merit Tower.

Entering, he looked directly at the blue-gold characters above the small wooden fish:

【Merit: 160】

“I truly don’t understand this damn merit-weighting system. Administering medicine to save a life grants only twenty merit points, yet simply draping a coat over Aqing gives me fifty… Isn’t putting clothes on a girl just common decency? Why reward it? Isn’t saving a life more important? And yet it’s so stingy?”

Ouyang Rong gave a self-deprecating shake of his head, glanced once more at the silent bronze ancient bell, and turned to leave…

Morning.

Ouyang Rong rose early, met Zhen Shi, and went together to the morning meal hall of Donglin Temple.

The aunt and nephew arrived early; the Xie family had not yet come.

Ouyang Rong wore a light blue everyday robe, head bowed as he reviewed the official documents delivered the previous night by Yan Wuxu, lost in thought.

Beside him, Zhen Shi was dressed unusually elegant and refined. Under the careful service of her maid, she spooned a small taste of hot porridge, wiped her lips with a handkerchief, then withdrew from her sleeve a small red cloth bundle containing something hard and ring-shaped.

The beautiful woman gently touched the red packet, occasionally lifting her chin to glance expectantly toward the entrance.

“Auntie is waiting for her ideal groom?” Ouyang Rong asked, still reading the documents, not looking up.

“Pfft! Don’t talk nonsense, Tanlang. Auntie’s past her prime—what groom am I waiting for?” Zhen Shi raised her spoon as if to tap his head; Ouyang Rong dodged sideways.

Ouyang Rong sighed again. “Too bad. Another one would’ve been better.” That way, he wouldn’t have to endure her daily nagging.

“Ungrateful brat,” Zhen Shi glared at him, then touched the red cloth in her sleeve. “This is the jade bracelet your mother left behind—it’s meant for the hand of your lawful wife.”

Ouyang Rong was unsurprised. “Then why aren’t you keeping it hidden? Don’t go showing it off for no reason.”

“Hmph. Today is special—there might be a surprise, and it’ll be used soon.”

“Surprise? Fine.” Ouyang Rong smiled, no longer arguing. His master would arrive soon; reality would speak louder than words—this was the correct way to handle elders’ “concern.”

Zhen Shi was about to scold him further when footsteps sounded outside. She looked up: Xie Xun arrived with Xie Ling. Zhen Shi immediately sat upright.

“Apologies for being late. Did you wait long?”

Xie Xun bowed apologetically; Ouyang Rong and Zhen Shi rose to return the greeting, and all sat down.

Zhen Shi sighed. “No problem, no problem. It’s Tanlang who woke up too early—he’s too eager, so he came ahead. It’s not even time yet. Master Xie and Wanchan are not late.”

Ouyang Rong: “?”

Zhen Shi ignored him, gazing expectantly at Xie Xun, searching for conversation: “Master Xie, last night…”

But Xie Xun spoke first: “We arrived late because something came up this morning. I discussed it with Wanchan, and it delayed us a bit.”

“What happened?” Zhen Shi perked up instantly, though Ouyang Rong noticed her hand beneath the table clenching her sleeve tightly, as if nervous.

Ouyang Rong internally sighed, calmly set aside the documents, and began eating his porridge, as if he already knew the outcome and refused to hear the details.

But to his surprise, Xie Xun smiled. “There’s a matter requiring your assistance, Madam and Lianghan.”

Ouyang Rong put down his bowl and looked up. “Master, please speak. Your student will take it seriously.”

Xie Xun stroked his beard with satisfaction. “It’s not difficult. I’ve decided to let Wanchan stay in Longcheng to accompany Lianghan.”

“...”

Ouyang Rong thought he’d misheard. After a moment of sluggishness, he uttered a single syllable: “Huh?”

Zhen Shi’s face lit up; under the table, her tiny fist clenched triumphantly! She thought it was settled!

Xie Xun glanced at Ouyang Rong and repeated it again, word for word: Xie Ling was to remain in Longcheng to accompany him.

Ouyang Rong fell silent. Slowly, he turned his head toward the quiet Xie noblewoman across from him. She now rested her pale small face on her right palm, tilting her head to watch a monk entering with porridge, her expression unchanged.

But in his mind, only one thought echoed:

Explain. Explain what the hell “surprise” means.