Volume One, Chapter 11: Doctor Lin Truly Is Extraordinary

In recent days, Lin Chuyao had secluded herself in her room. On the desk lay several medical books and handwritten notes, all focused on the research of the Third Prince’s leg ailment.

By the flickering candlelight, she leafed through page after page, her fingertips tracing the lines of text, brows slightly furrowed. Outside, the night was deep and still; the faint chirping of insects only intensified the oppressive silence within the room.

“Miss, it’s getting late. You should rest early,” Qingxing softly urged.

Linyao lifted her eyes toward the darkness beyond the window, her gaze wavering briefly before she sighed inwardly. “The Third Prince’s leg condition is far more complicated than I initially imagined.”

She set the page down, her eyes carrying a hint of resolve. “Tomorrow, I must go to Qingfeng Hall for consultations. Do not let anyone from the Hou residence find out.”

Qingxing hesitated for a moment. “Miss, why keep it a secret...?”

“If madam inquires, just give her a vague answer,” Lin Chuyao said, pausing before adding quietly, “Remember, don’t let her become suspicious.”

Qingxing and Xiaotan exchanged glances. Though puzzled, they nodded repeatedly. “Don’t worry, Miss, we know what to say.”

Her fingertips lightly brushed over the notes she had written herself. “The leg’s meridians are severely blocked; this is not caused by a mere external injury.”

Her brows knit tighter as she murmured, “Why are there traces of a secondary injury? And it seems... deliberate?”

Faint images flashed through her mind—the silver needle piercing flesh, a face drenched in cold sweat, and muffled shouts of anger. Her heart clenched sharply, her grip tightening until her fingers whitened.

“Who exactly... and why would they do this?” she closed her eyes briefly, suppressing the chaotic thoughts.

Five days passed in the blink of an eye.

In the consultation room of Qingfeng Hall, sunlight filtered through the lattice window, casting mottled shadows. The air was tinged with a faint medicinal scent. Lin Chuyao arranged silver needles neatly, her movements steady and methodical as always.

Reclining casually on the couch, Shen Lingfeng toyed with a jade pendant between his long fingers, a smile playing on his lips. “Doctor Lin’s Qingfeng Hall is quite the place. Even I sometimes have to wait my turn.”

“If Your Highness finds it troublesome, you may seek someone more skilled,” Lin Chuyao replied coolly, gesturing for him to straighten his leg. “But since you’re here, it’s best to focus on your treatment.”

Shen Lingfeng’s lips curved slightly. His gaze followed her needle placement with a teasing glint. “Your temperament has changed from what I remember five years ago.”

Lin Chuyao’s hand paused briefly, her brows knitting, but she quickly resumed as before. “Your Highness must be mistaken. I don’t recall ever meeting you.”

Shen Lingfeng’s smile lingered, his tone light. “Is that so? Perhaps I am mistaken. Yet your hands... they seem familiar.”

She met his gaze calmly. “Please keep your leg straight, or the acupuncture won’t be effective.”

As treatment commenced, Lin Chuyao applied an ointment to her palm, then gently pressed her hand onto Shen Lingfeng’s knee. Her touch was gentle yet precise, each pressure seeming to penetrate deeply into the blocked meridians.

“Your Highness, the meridian blockage here is severe. You may feel some soreness or swelling during the massage,” she warned softly, her hands meticulous.

Shen Lingfeng frowned slightly, a cold sweat beading on his forehead as he endured the discomfort.

Suddenly, his leg spasmed violently, his expression shifting. Lin Chuyao quickly retrieved another ointment and pressed it onto an acupoint. “Please remain calm, Your Highness. This is a normal reaction as the meridians are being unblocked.”

He exhaled deeply, leaning back with a half-smile. “Doctor Lin, your courage is impressive.”

“Your Highness’s condition is complicated. Only persistent treatment will bring results,” she replied evenly, her movements even more deliberate.

Yet, as the muscles relaxed, an imperceptible emotion quietly arose between them.

Shen Lingfeng seldom sensed such subtle feelings from others. Though aware this was routine treatment, each contact stirred something unspoken within him.

“Your technique is convincing,” he said suddenly, his tone neutral but tinged with an enigmatic undertone. “I’ve met many doctors, but few dare to apply such force.”

“A healer without courage dares not treat,” Lin Chuyao responded without looking up, voice cool. “Your Highness’s condition has lingered for years. Only by clearing the meridians can relief be found.”

Her words remained rational, yet Shen Lingfeng clearly detected a cautious restraint in her eyes—an unwillingness to err or reveal any unnecessary emotion.

“Doctor Lin is truly exceptional,” he murmured low, smiling softly as he lowered his gaze to hide his feelings, burying that faint strangeness deep within.

After the massage, Lin Chuyao set aside the ointment and took out the silver needles from her box with steady, light movements.

Midway through the acupuncture, Shen Lingfeng suddenly remarked, “Doctor Lin, there seems to be a scar on your hand.”

Her movements faltered for a moment but quickly resumed as usual. “Healers grind their needles and prepare medicines; it’s inevitable to have marks.”

“Is that so?” Shen Lingfeng chuckled softly, his eyes deepening. “Yet I feel that scar is more like... a sign of some extraordinary experience.”

Lin Chuyao lowered her eyes, her tone still cold. “Your Highness imagines too much. Those scars are unrelated to medicine.”

Shen Lingfeng smiled faintly, his gaze fixed on her hand. “Doctor Lin’s hands remind me of something said to me five years ago—‘Survive.’”

Her fingers paused, pressing more firmly on the knee. The strength of her touch unconsciously increased.

“You’re imagining things,” she quickly adjusted her composure and inserted a needle into an acupoint. “I have no such memories.”

Shen Lingfeng said nothing but stared deeply at her face. Then, with a low chuckle, as if reflecting, he said, “Perhaps I am mistaken, but your expression just now made me even more certain.”

When the acupuncture ended, Lin Chuyao set down the needles calmly. “Today's treatment is complete. You will need to take medication daily and undergo acupuncture every five days. The effectiveness still needs to be observed.”

Shen Lingfeng flexed his knee, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Doctor Lin’s words give me some hope. However, this leg ailment runs deep. I have always felt the injury from back then was more than just physical.”

Lin Chuyao’s fingers skimmed the medicine box, then stopped abruptly. A blurred memory flashed through her mind—the heavy scent of medicine, a pale boy trembling as he weakly whispered, “My leg... don’t let it burden others...”

Her gaze darkened as she lowered her eyes. “Your Highness’s condition might not be entirely accidental.”

Shen Lingfeng frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “A healer can only treat the illness, but cannot change the original cause. If Your Highness wishes to investigate, you might consider looking into the person who treated you back then.”

He studied her intently, the depth of emotion in his eyes growing heavier. Rising from his seat, he pushed his wheelchair slowly away, a faint smile curving his lips. “Doctor Lin, rest assured, I will find out the truth.”

Lin Chuyao remained standing, her fingertips gently touching an old scar on her palm. It was a vague fragment of her memory and a lasting mark from five years as a medical slave.

Yet Shen Lingfeng’s question seemed to tear open a corner of her heart.

Soon after, the quiet was broken by a clatter of hurried footsteps.