Feng Ziyan's body mother is the woman people once called Madam Wu.
Madam Wu was known for her virtue. She had been gentle, kind, and endlessly faithful to her husband's family. She worked day and night, taking care of her mother-in-law as though she were her own mother. She supported her husband so that he could study without worry. To outsiders, she was the image of a perfect wife, one they praised in poems and family stories.
But Madam Wu never found peace.
When her husband was poor, she nearly worked herself to death to feed the family and keep the house together. Later, when he finally passed the imperial examinations and rose in society as a Third-Rank Scholar, chosen by the Emperor himself, she thought life would finally turn sweet. Instead, as soon as he succeeded, he abandoned her. He cast her aside like worn shoes and married the beautiful young daughter of a powerful marquis family, leaving Madam Wu behind in the countryside.
When Feng Ziyan's soul crossed into this world, it was at the exact moment Madam Wu was being bullied nearly to death by her husband's new wife, Lady Li.
By coincidence, Feng Ziyan had borne this same name in her previous life. Perhaps it was fate that she had landed in this body and this life. Out of gratitude, she decided to grant Madam Wu's last wish: to carry her ashes to the capital and demand justice.
___
"Miss, should we give some incense money?" asked Juan, her young maid. She pointed toward the donation box in front of the temple hall.
They were at Qingshan Temple, one of the great temples outside the capital. Feng Ziyan had stopped to hang a memorial plaque for poor Madam Liu, wishing peace for her soul and hoping that in another life she might find happiness.
"Go ahead." Feng Ziyan handed Juan half a tael of silver, which the girl obediently placed into the merits box.
Juan had no family; she was an orphan Feng Ziyan purchased on her trip to the capital. The girl was clever, quick with her hands, and—most important—trustworthy. Feng Ziyan planned to train her into a capable medical assistant.
After making the offering, Feng Ziyan took out two empty water flasks. She planned to fill them at the temple for the long road ahead.
It was the height of summer. The scorching sun had baked the earth dry, and it hadn't rained for weeks. The air shimmered with heat, and people moved like they were walking through flames.
On her journey so far, Feng Ziyan had already treated dozens of travelers who collapsed from heatstroke. Thanks to these treatments, she had gathered enough silver to continue traveling comfortably.
She was just turning toward the well when a piercing scream cut through the heavy summer air.
Under a large tree at the temple's entrance, a woman in worn blue robes clutched a small boy in her arms, crying loudly. The child was vomiting uncontrollably, his little face pale as paper. Pilgrims nearby ran over, alarmed and curious.
From their whispers, Feng Ziyan caught the word "heatstroke." At once, she turned to Juan and said, "Come. Let's go see."
The crying mother shook her seven-year-old desperately. "Guier! Wake up, Guier! Don't leave me! Please, don't!"
The gathered people shook their heads, sighing.
"This child must have collapsed from the sun. In this weather, it's too common."
"Yes, heatstroke is dangerous. A boy near my home suffered it—he burned with fever for three days before dying."
"Why bring such a child up this steep mountain? Even full-grown men faint on this road!"
Hearing their words, the woman cried even harder. "My boy has been sick for over half a month. We went to so many doctors, but none could cure him. A shaman told me he was cursed by evil spirits and must be brought to the temple to drive them away… That's why I… I brought him here."
As if on cue, two sedan chairs arrived at the gate, covered modestly but lined with expensive silks. Inside sat noble ladies from the capital visiting the temple. One of them, hearing the cries, ordered her trusted servant—Nanny Wang—to investigate.
Nanny Wang went up, asked a few things, and her mind stirred with an idea. This scene, she thought, could be turned to her mistress's advantage. If they helped a poor woman and child here, the Bodhisattva would recognize her lady's kindness. Perhaps Heaven itself would bless the old madam back home with health and long life.
With that thought, Nanny Wang hurried back, retrieved a porcelain vial, and returned to the weeping woman. Smiling warmly, she said, "Auntie, don't panic. This is our household's Cooling Pill. It is very effective for heatstroke. Give your son one pellet—soon his fever will cool."
She added quickly, "Doctors say people suffering heatstroke must drink more water. Did you give him enough? A lack of water under the summer sun only makes things worse."
The mother bent in gratitude, weeping even as she reached for the pill. "I gave him water! But the more he drinks, the more he vomits. I don't know what else to do!"
Just as she was about to feed her son the pill, Feng Ziyan stepped forward and said firmly, "Wait."
She walked over, sniffed the pill, and studied its ingredients. Then she said evenly, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Auntie, this medicine is not right for your child. If you give it to him now, he might become worse."
The woman froze in uncertainty. Which person should she believe—this noble family's servant or this plain-dressed girl?
Nanny Wang narrowed her eyes. The girl before her was only fourteen, exquisitely beautiful, but dressed no better than a commoner. "Are you saying, little girl, that our pill is fake?" Nanny Wang demanded icily.
Feng Ziyan gave a calm smile. "Not at all. The pill is genuine, and it is indeed good medicine."
At those words, Nanny Wang's expression relaxed and grew prideful. "Good medicine indeed. It was prepared by Lingzhi Hall in the capital. A single pellet costs half a tael of silver. Were my lady not merciful, how could this poor child ever see such a medicine?"
The woman, hearing it came from Lingzhi Hall, was overjoyed and quickly reached to take it back.
But Feng Ziyan stopped her gently. "Even good medicine must match the patient's condition. This pill is effective for yang heatstroke, but your child does not suffer from that."
"What?" The woman stared as if frozen, while the crowd broke into murmurs.
Nanny Wang sneered. This common girl dared argue with her in front of so many people? "If not heatstroke, then what is it?"
Feng Ziyan knelt down, quietly taking the boy's wrist, checking his pulse, lifting his eyelids, and inspecting his tongue. Only after several moments did she speak clearly, her voice steady and commanding enough to settle the restless whispers around them.
"There are two kinds of summer illness people often mistake for each other. The first is yang heatstroke. That is the one most people know—caused by working too long in the hot sun, or running about until the body burns. The person feels dizzy, thirsty, fevered. Cooling pills and cold drinks help in those cases."
"However—there is another type. It is what I call yin heatstroke. This does not come from the sun directly, but from drinking chilled water in the heat, eating too many cold foods, or sleeping outdoors in summer nights under damp winds. When the internal warmth and the cold from outside fight within the body, it causes vomiting, chills, and weakness. Children and the elderly suffer from it most easily."
She brushed the child's damp hair back gently, her tone softening. "This small boy is not suffering the heat of the sun. He is suffering from yin heatstroke."
The crowd fell silent, their earlier certainty shaken. Eyes turned between the noble servant and the plain-dressed girl, waiting to see what would happen next.