Volume One, Chapter 9: This Is My Token

At that moment, a languid voice came from outside the door: “Pingyang, I can testify that this eldest daughter of the Lin family only came to sever past ties; she has no intention of rekindling old feelings.”

The crowd turned to look, and outside, a carved wheelchair was slowly rolled in. Seated in it was a man dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, with a smooth, warm jade pendant hanging at his waist. His demeanor was lazy yet carried an innate nobility.

His features were handsome, with a hint of a worldly, cynical smile in his eyes. He lightly fanned himself with a folding fan, his gaze sweeping over everyone inside the chamber.

“But as for Young Master Fang, your fiancée is right beside you, yet you gaze upon your former love with such deep affection—it is truly hard to put into words,” said Shen Lingfeng. Though his tone was casual, it cut into Fang Xiuran’s face like a dull blade, reddening and paling it alternately.

Princess Pingyang restrained some of her sharpness upon seeing Shen Lingfeng and slowly bowed. “Brother, what brings you to Shangyang City today?”

Shen Lingfeng smiled faintly, shaking his fan, his eyes resting on Lin Chuyao with a mixture of curiosity and deep meaning. “Nothing special, just strolling about. Didn’t expect to stumble upon such a scene.”

He lightly tapped the wheelchair armrest, his tone calm but authoritative. “Pingyang, the eldest daughter of the Lin family is but a marquis’s daughter. Why bother with her? Your status is clear. If others knew you stooped to dispute a place with her, it would be a disgrace.”

Princess Pingyang’s cold gaze swept over Lin Chuyao, flashing with hatred and disdain. She secretly clenched her palm until it turned white.

Though anger surged within her, she forced a smile. Shen Lingfeng was not only royalty but also their father’s favored son; she had to consider his face.

Feigning calm, she said, “Since brother says so, I shall not say more.” Yet the slight mocking tone betrayed her unwillingness.

Turning to Fang Xiuran, she suppressed her displeasure. “There’s a jewelry shop ahead with fine pieces. Let’s go take a look.”

Fang Xiuran hurriedly nodded and whispered, “Yes, Princess.” Then he couldn’t help but glance back at Lin Chuyao, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes before he quickly masked it.

Princess Pingyang snorted coldly and turned away.

Shen Lingfeng shook his fan, watching the two leave, then softly said, “Finally some peace.” He waved lightly, and a cold breeze gently closed the chamber door, beckoning Qingxing and Xiao Tan outside.

Lin Chuyao frowned slightly, looking at the Third Prince before her. She remembered having no acquaintance with him; why would he suddenly come to her aid today?

Shen Lingfeng glanced up at her, his eyes passing over her scarred face, a faint, inscrutable smile lingering on his lips.

He softly said, “Miss Lin, are you planning to just stand there staring at this prince all day?”

Snapping back to herself, Lin Chuyao quickly bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness, for your rescue! But I know no acquaintance with you—why help me today?”

Shen Lingfeng smiled faintly, tapping his armrest lazily. “No acquaintance?”

Though inwardly disappointed, he showed none. “Rescue is too strong a word. I simply cannot stand Pingyang’s aggressive behavior.”

He paused, eyeing Lin Chuyao with a hint of appraisal. “But you are quite interesting.”

Lin Chuyao frowned slightly, lowering her voice. “Your Highness flatters me. I am but an ordinary person.”

“Ordinary?” Shen Lingfeng chuckled, shaking his head. “Doctor Ye’s evaluation of you was far from ordinary. Your acupuncture skills rival those of the great Doctor Du in his prime.”

Lin Chuyao’s heart trembled but she kept calm. “Your Highness overestimates me. I only learned some rudimentary techniques.”

“Rudimentary?” Shen Lingfeng’s smile faded, his gaze sharpening. “I just witnessed your technique at Qingfeng Hall. Doctor Ye and Xie Zhian both admire you greatly, even calling you a prodigy.”

“Miss Lin, do you think I would believe your modesty?”

Lin Chuyao said nothing, lowering her head in silence.

Shen Lingfeng slowly turned his wheelchair closer to her, his tone lowering. “Miss Lin, my legs were ruined on the battlefield. Even the Imperial Medical Institute declared me incurable. If only Doctor Du were still alive, there might be hope.”

He glanced at his legs with deep eyes, a trace of hidden pain in his voice. “I thought this wheelchair was my fate. Yet, the heart refuses to accept fate.”

“Miss Lin, this may be just an attempt for you, but for me, it is my last gamble.”

Lin Chuyao paused, then asked, “Why does Your Highness trust me so? Medicine is half success and half failure. My skills are limited; I fear I cannot meet your expectations.”

Shen Lingfeng smiled lightly. “I do not ask you to guarantee success. As long as you try your best, I will not let you suffer losses.”

He raised his arm, signaling Lin Chuyao to take his pulse.

Lin Chuyao took out a silk handkerchief from her sleeve, carefully placing it beneath his wrist. Her fingers gently touched the pulse, eyes closed in concentration. After a moment, her brow furrowed slightly as if sensing something amiss.

Shen Lingfeng looked down at her with a probing gaze. The room was so quiet only their breathing could be heard, the air heavy with tension.

Suddenly, his wrist twitched slightly, perhaps from the coolness of her touch or some unspoken expectation.

“How is it?” he asked calmly, though a subtle tension underlay his words.

Lin Chuyao met his gaze and slowly said, “Your Highness’s injury is not merely external. The wound was likely not properly treated at the time, causing blocked meridians. Long exposure to cold has impaired your qi and blood flow. Nighttime pain must be unbearable.”

Shen Lingfeng’s eyes darkened slightly, his voice lowering. “Indeed. Especially on rainy nights, the pain makes me question if I am still alive.”

Lin Chuyao whispered, “Recovery will require acupuncture to clear the channels, supplemented by herbal treatments. It will take a long time.”

Shen Lingfeng nodded, a trace of seriousness in his expression. “Time is no issue. As long as there is hope, I am willing to try.”

Lin Chuyao folded away the handkerchief, softly saying, “Your Highness’s condition is complicated. I will do my best, but success depends on fate.”

Shen Lingfeng smiled faintly, reclining in his wheelchair with a playful tone. “I trust your best efforts. As for your reward... rest assured, you won’t be disappointed.”

He produced an exquisitely carved royal token from the wheelchair and casually placed it on the table. “This is a royal seal. If you need anything, come to me. But... it is also a token of trust. If you misuse it, don’t blame me for changing my mind.”

Lin Chuyao looked down at the token, her expression complicated, but did not reach out for it. “Your Highness, I only treat illnesses.”

Shen Lingfeng chuckled, rising in his wheelchair and slowly turning away, his figure disappearing into the chamber’s shadows. “But I hope you will not only heal the body, but also the person.”

With those words, the room fell silent. Lin Chuyao’s gaze sharpened, lingering long and wordless.