GU MANG WATCHED HIM, his bare feet fidgeting anxiously beneath the table. "Fandou and I sit together to keep warm."
Mo Xi shot him an impassive glance. "So?"
"Yov're not wearing a lot, so you're cold; I'm not wearing a lot, so I'm also cold. We're both cold, but when we're close together, itll be warm."
Silence. Mo Xi was a cut-sleeve, and Gu Mang had been his lover. His rational mind was like a towering city wall, containing any improper impulses, but it couldn't lock away his physical instincts. He knew very well how strongly he'd react to Gu Mang; if they sat in such close proximity, in such thin clothes, there would be consequences beyond mere warmth. He felt indignant, as if he'd been deliberately seduced. Even though said seduction was a figment of his own imagination, his expression darkened noticeably.
He stared at Gu Mang for a while, then abruptly let go of his jaw. He grabbed a piece of paper to wipe his fingers with disgust and said frostily, "Don't think so highly of yourself."
"So we can't?"
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
In the face of these harsh words, Gu Mang's face showed no hint of sadness. He only turned to look at Mo Xi, his every emotion clearly written across his face. Mo Xi could read his confusion, his bewilderment, his trepidation...but saw nothing there that brought him joy. If he could just hurt Gu Mang even the tiniest bit, Mo Xi thought he wouldn't feel so maniacal.
"I thought, I was a...companion. Your companion," replied Gu Mang.
Mo Xi didn't speak. After a moment, he reached out and hooked a finger around the slave collar on Gu Mang's neck. His fingertip slowly traced its way downward until it flicked the metal tag on its pitch-black iron ring. Eyes downcast, Mo Xi said, "You thought I would be companions with someone wearing this? You are a traitor. I am your mortal enemy," he murmured. "This will not change. Gu Mang, we can never go back."
As the year came to an end, Mo Xi grew yet more convinced that Gu Mang wasn't faking his condition after all. Gu Mang had indeed forfeited all of his memories and reason after he lost those two souls. This sent him into a long period of brooding discontent.
One day, after returning from court, Mo Xi received a message that Medicine Master Jiang had finally returned from his travels. Jiang Fuli was Chonghua's finest medicine grandmaster and was well-equipped to take on even the most difficult cases. Although Mo Xi considered Gu Mang to be a nearly hopeless one, Jiang Fuli was still worth a try. Thus, Mo Xi brought Gu Mang—along with his last thread of hope—to Jiang Manor.
Jiang Fuli was eccentric and arrogant in the extreme. Among Chonghua's three poisons of greed, wrath, and ignorance, Greed was Murong Lian and Ignorance was Murong Chuyi. As for Wrath, he was a man who despised anyone who displeased him and blew up whenever he didn't get his way. He was utterly irrational and did whatever he desired in the moment.
This individual was none other than Medicine Master Jiang, Jiang Fuli. The venerable Medicine Master had talent enough to dispense with all social etiquette; he cared nothing for tact and always did things his own way.
"I heard that when he returned to the manor and learned that Madam Jiang had met with Li Qingqian, he was so angry he didn't speak to her all day. He asked her if she was sick in the head and said he hoped she'd get well soon."
"Aiya, why'd he say that?"
"I'm not sure either. He probably thought Madam was too reckless. I heard he called on Yue Manor to have it out with Murong Chuyi. He said Murong Chuyi shouldn't have meddled and gotten his wife involved."
"Ha ha, Ignorance versus Wrath. Did Murong Chuyi not start a fight with him?"
"Murong Chuyi wasn't even there! Jiang Fuli smashed ten of Yue Manor's tea sets before he left in a rage. He swore that if Murong Chuyi dared involve his wife again, he'd personally come to tie him up, toss him into a cauldron, and refine him into medicine. The young Yue-gongzi was trying to hold him back, and I heard Jiang Fuli made him cry!"
"Wow, he's so scary..."
Indeed he was. Mo Xi had crossed paths with Jiang Fuli before, and the man had left a terrible impression on him. If there were literally anyone else he could ask for help, he would never have thought of visiting Jiang Manor. But when he turned and saw Gu Mang, lying in the sun next to Fandou with his eyes half-closed, he felt he had no other choice.
Within Jiang Manor's great hall, two opulent dangling lanterns patterned with interwoven branches burned brightly, and thousands of whale-oil lamps transformed night into midday. All the decor was of exquisite craftsmanship, a hundredfold more costly than the average cultivator could afford. It was a sight of utter extravagance.
When they arrived, dinner had just concluded. The housekeeper brought out generous servings of tea and refreshments and dispatched someone to the rear building to inform the boss of the Jiang clan, Jiang Fuli.
Contrary to Mo Xi's expectations, they were kept waiting for a long time. Mo Xi sat and rested his eyes, while Gu Mang scarfed down snacks from the plate. The celadon-glazed Yue ware platter held peach blossom pastries, flower cakes, and fruits preserved in honey. He shoved each and every one of them into his mouth. After cleaning his own plate and licking his lips, he still seemed unsatiated. With a furtive glance, he reached a hand toward Mo Xi's plate. Mo Xi didn't blink, so Gu Mang confidently continued feasting.
"Are you very hungry?" Mo Xi asked out of the blue.
The question caught Gu Mang unawares. "Do you want it?" he mumbled indistinctly. "There's still some left. I thought you weren't eating..."
"I'm not," Mo Xi replied lightly.
"Okay, then I'll take care of it for you." The last two words were muffled as Gu Mang shoved another peach blossom pastry into his mouth. He tried to speak around his bulging cheeks, but all that came out were sounds of munching.
Mo Xi said nothing, but his brow furrowed ever so slightly. He was sick of witnessing Gu Mang's slovenly table manners. He turned to ask the housekeeper, "What's taking so long? Is your lord busy with some urgent matter?"
"The proprietor is treating Changfeng-jun's daughter right now," said the housekeeper. "He should be finished soon."
Mo Xi frowned. "I've been hearing a lot about Changfeng-jun recently. What illness does his daughter have?"
"Madness of the heart," the housekeeper answered. "Changfeng-jun's daughter has an unmanageably strong spiritual core, and she's very young, so she can't control herself. She's already hurt so many little lords and ladies at the cultivation academy..." He sighed and continued in a sympathetic tone, "She's only seven. When her illness isn't flaring up, she's quiet and well-behaved, very polite, but no one wants to be her friend. She's really quite the poor little thing."
"Can her illness be cured?"
"Not quickly," said the housekeeper. "And if she continues to hurt people, the academy intends to destroy her spiritual core and expel her."
At this, Mo Xi paused. "Wouldn't that mean she'd never be able to cultivate again?"
"Not only that. It would be very risky to destroy a core like hers. If anything were to go wrong, it could break her mind as well."
Mo Xi did not know what to say to that.
"Changfeng-jun and his wife had their daughter late in life. They never imagined it would turn out like this. Her father and mother have no tears left to shed." The housekeeper sighed. "The little girl has been trying to keep herself in check, to slowly bring her spiritual core under control. She's been making steady progress, but..." Another sigh. "Xihe-jun knows that the academy is full of noble heirs and offspring. No one wants to risk it with a heart-mad child. Changfeng-jun pleaded and begged and pulled every string he could to let her stay this long, but the other noble lords are deeply opposed to it. If she injures anyone else, no matter whom, I'm afraid she won't be allowed to remain."
Mo Xi suddenly remembered the time Changfeng-jun had sent him gifts. So this was the reason. He was about to speak when a man's imposing voice rang out from the inner hall. "Lao-Zhou, what a big mouth you have. Who let you carelessly divulge patients' affairs?"
The housekeeper's mouth immediately snapped shut. Mo Xi turned to see a man who looked to be in his thirties emerge from behind the screen of golden silk. This man wore exquisitely embroidered robes of bluish-green, their many overlapping layers crisscrossing at his lapels. His sash was straight and neat. With an audible flick of his long sleeves, the man sat at the place of honor with no hesitation. He looked up with light-brown almond eyes, features as sharp as his manner was haughty.
"Medicine Master Jiang," Mo Xi said.
Jiang Fuli placed his hands on the arms of his chair as his gaze swept over his guests. His thin lips pursed. Then he said, without any pleasantries, "You're healthy. You don't need treatment."
"What about him?" asked Mo Xi.
Jiang Fuli glanced again at Gu Mang. "He's ruined. There is no treatment."
Mo Xi had already lost most of his hope that Gu Mang might still retain his memories, but hearing Jiang Fuli's declaration with his own ears still made his heart sink. He closed his eyes for a few beats before he asked, undeterred, "Is there no hope for recovery at all?"
"There is." Jiang Fuli arched a brow and scoffed, "Search heaven and hell for his two scattered souls, and all his problems will be solved. The question is, does Xihe-jun know where to look?"
If anyone else had spoken to him like this, Mo Xi would have already flipped his lid. But such was Jiang Fuli's power—everyone in Chonghua disliked him, calling him an evil profiteer and a heartless salesman who made his fortune from exploiting the dying, but no one in Chonghua would dare raise a hand to him. Not even the emperor himself.
All this because Jiang Fuli was a one-of-a-kind miracle healer.
Mo Xi looked at Gu Mang, who was staring blankly at the dessert plate, before he turned back to Jiang Fuli and asked, "Would the Medicine Master perchance know of any other methods by which he might recover some memories?"
"If it's just a few memories you're after, nothing else is needed," Jiang Fuli said curtly. "The soul responsible for memory has been removed, but that doesn't mean he's forgotten everything in his past. As time goes on, he'll naturally recover some of it."
Mo Xi's heart skipped a beat. "How much would he be able to recover?"
"Depends on his luck," Jiang Fuli said. "But without restoring the two souls he lost, most of it won't return."
Seeing the sudden shadow in Mo Xi's eyes, Jiang Fuli sneered. "To be honest, when it comes to memory, it's better to either recover it all or forget everything entirely. It's more torturous to have nothing but fragmented recollections. If I were him, I'd rather stay ignorant like this— it'd hurt a lot less."
The candle flame guttered. Jiang Fuli leaned back against the soft cushions and lazily continued from this more comfortable position. "Anyway...human minds are unpredictable. If he were to regain some memory, who knows what it would be?"
Mo Xi's heart pounded at Jiang Fuli's words. It was true—if Gu Mang recovered some piece of his memory by the whims of fate, who could guess what it might reveal?
In his old life, Gu Mang had kept too many secrets and endured too much devastation. On the lighter side was his relationship with Mo Xi and the humiliation he'd suffered at Murong Lian's hands. On the heavier side were the military secrets of the Wangba Army and the pressure he'd faced from the emperor. If Gu Mang suddenly remembered some of these fragmented scraps, how would he feel? The mere thought of it chilled Mo Xi to the bone.
It was clear that Jiang Fuli knew what was on Mo Xi's mind. With a dark smile, he asked, "Does that scare you?"
Mo Xi made no reply.
"If he remembered how His Imperial Majesty treated him without understanding the full context, he'd become even more deranged, uncontrollably so," Jiang Fuli continued. "To resolve the matter at that point, Xihe-jun, would be no easy task."
Mo Xi saw how unruffled Jiang Fuli's features were beneath the lamplight. "You have medicine," said Mo Xi.
It was not a question.
"Aren't you clever." Jiang Fuli scoffed. "I may not have methods to restore his memories, but I can write plenty of prescriptions that would help him avoid dark recollections." This handsome man wore a shrewd expression as he fiddled with the jade rings on his hand, like a hunter waiting for his prey to jump into the net. "Are you interested?"
Of course Mo Xi would not be daunted by expense. He lounged in his chair, one elbow propped on the backrest, long legs crossed in their black military boots, not even looking up as he said, "Name your price."
"Sure." The thought of money improved Jiang Fuli's mood. "You're certainly more straightforward than His Imperial Majesty."
"His Imperial Majesty also knows that he might regain some memories?"
"Why would I keep it from him?" Jiang Fuli replied. "But he didn't care for the consequences and wanted Gu Mang to remember as much as possible."
Mo Xi was silent for a spell. "Just write the prescription," he said at last.
"To be clear, this prescription is for calming the spirit," Jiang Fuli said. "Although it helps hold back bad memories, it cannot control the choices that Gu Mang might make in response. If he someday remembers something that causes great anguish and you open your eyes to find him rushing at your neck with a knife, I certainly won't offer a refund." He drummed fingers pale as white jade on the table and gestured at the Medicine Master Manor's signboard with a haughty tilt of his chin. "Everything will be done according to Jiang Manor's rules."
Mo Xi refused to grace Jiang Fuli's rotten signboard with a single glance. The first time he had seen it as a youth left a deep impression in his heart, forever changing his naive notion of healers as benevolent saviors. Other medicine halls, no matter how useless, still hung up precepts like "Medicine in the Service of the People" or "Fair Treatment Knows No Age." Medicine Master Jiang's board, on the other hand, contained a brash exhortation: "Mess with Jiang, Die by Jiang."
Without a shred of restraint, Jiang Fuli asked, "Do you understand?"
Mo Xi's face remained impassive. "Prescribe the medicine."
"All right. One course of treatment will be seventy thousand gold cowries."
"Pfft—" Not even the Jiang Manor housekeeper thought this a reasonable price, but he quickly masked his snort with a cough. "Excuse me, I—I have a cold."
Jiang Fuli shot him a glance, baring his teeth in an eerie smile. "Okay. I'll give you medicine too."
Housekeeper Zhou fell silent.
Mo Xi produced several golden cowrie notes from his qiankun pouch. This made Gu Mang perk up and crane his neck for a closer look. After living in Luomei Pavilion for so long, the words he understood best were "cowrie shells." His companion was about to spend money; he was about to spend cowries, and not just cowries, but golden cowries, and not just golden cowries, but seventy thousand in one go...
How many clients would he have had to take to earn that much money?
As Mo Xi was about to hand the money over to that mean, almond- eyed man, Gu Mang objected. His hand shot out to grab Mo Xi's wrist and he solemnly shook his head. "Don't give it to him."
Mo Xi looked at him. "It's my money."
Gu Mang didn't budge.
"Let go."
After thinking it over, Gu Mang couldn't find a good reason to stop him. He could only sigh as he loosened his grip. "Money's all gone. Will we have to go hungry?"
Mo Xi ignored him and put on the table seven notes worth ten thousand gold cowries apiece. With a push of his fingertips, he sent them toward Jiang Fuli.
Jiang Fuli's expression when he looked at the money might've been sweeter than when he looked at his own wife. He accepted the notes and ordered the housekeeper to bring paper and a brush. He then slid the narrow red sandalwood box on the other side of the table toward himself. He produced a crystal eyepiece and placed it over his left eye, then took up a weasel-fur brush in his pale fingers and began to write.
Gu Mang was slowly recovering his sense of boldness, likely because his life had improved significantly after he left Luomei Pavilion. His attitude was no longer one of excessive apathy and indifference; curiosity had returned to his scarred and wounded body. At the sight of Jiang Fuli's crystal monocle, he asked, "What's that?"
Jiang Fuli replied blandly. "An eyepiece."
"Why do you need to wear it?"
"I'm night-blind."
"What's that?"
"It means I can't see clearly at night."
"Then why do you only wear one?"
"Only my left eye is affected."
Gu Mang hummed in understanding, but upon further consideration, he found a gap in Jiang Fuli's logic. "Night-blindness means you can't see when it's dark, but your room is so bright and shiny."
"It's a magical injury, not a normal illness. My left eye will become blind as soon as night falls. No matter how many lamps I light, they're only any use for my right eye." Jiang Fuli peered at him coldly from behind the eyepiece. "Does General Gu have any further questions? I don't like to be disturbed when writing prescriptions."
"No more," Gu Mang replied sincerely.
There were seventy or so different herbs in the prescription. Jiang Fuli ordered someone to bring out a golden abacus. As his pale fingers flew over the beads to check prices, he simultaneously examined the prescription for dangerous interactions between herbs.
"This is your prescription. Here you go," Jiang Fuli said. "Come here tomorrow to pick up the medicine."
Mo Xi took the prescription. He had nothing left to say to Jiang Fuli seeing that they were more or less finished, he prepared to leave. But at this moment, Jiang Fuli called him back. "Hold on."
"Does Medicine Master have more instructions?"
"There's one more thing." Jiang Fuli looked at the servants standing at the side of the room. "All of you, withdraw."
"Yes."
After the servants' departure, only three people remained in the hall. Jiang Fuli finished his tea before he looked up. "Xihe-jun, I wish to ask you about a trifling matter. When the sword spirit Li Qingqian sought out my wife, were you at the scene?"
Mo Xi nodded.
Jiang Fuli's face stiffened for an instant. "Did you hear what my wife said to him?"
"Madam Jiang spoke very softly. I heard nothing."
This answer seemed to displease Jiang Fuli. His pale, thin lips moved slightly, as if to silently curse someone out. He asked again, "Does anything survive of the Hong Shao Sword?"
"A hilt remains."
Jiang Fuli's gaze abruptly sharpened. "In whose possession?"
"Murong Chuyi's. Why do you ask?"
Jiang Fuli did not immediately reply. At the mention of Murong Chuyi, he swore, then fell quiet in brooding thought. "Forget it. There's not much there to investigate."
He stood and straightened his clothes. Jutting his chin in Gu Mang's direction, he said, "Right, Xihe-jun, I must warn you about something. If you don't want him to remember those dark memories, there's one more thing beyond taking the medicine as prescribed that's very important."
"Medicine Master, please advise."
Jiang Fuli wagged a finger at him. "Try to keep him away from objects related to his past. A person's mind is very hard to predict. It's very possible that something he wouldn't have otherwise recalled could be brought back by something as insignificant as a whiff of a scent. You must remember this."