The apothecary room grew still. Xiao Mei slept deeply now. Her face had color again. The silver chill was gone completely. The warm towels lay folded on the side table. Steam from the basin had faded. Only a soft, clean smell of herbs stayed in the air.
Yelan stood up from the chair. Her legs felt heavy. Her head still ached a little from the poison's touch. She looked at Xiao Mei one last time. Then she turned to Maomao.
"If she wakes up," Yelan said quietly, "tell her to rest. No work for many days. And give her this." She reached into her small pouch at her waist. She took out a tiny cloth bag. Inside were dried chamomile flowers and mint leaves. "Make tea with these. One spoon each. It helps the body feel calm after sickness."
Maomao took the bag. She nodded. "I will. Thank you again."
Yelan gave a small bow. Not deep. Just polite. She did not look at Jinshi or Gaoshun. She did not ask for praise. She did not wait for thanks. She simply walked to the door screen. Her steps were slow. Gentle. Like she carried something fragile inside her.
The screen slid open. She stepped out. The corridor light was softer now. Afternoon had turned to evening. The door closed behind her with a quiet sound.
Jinshi watched her go. His eyes followed every step. As Yelan passed under the lantern light, something caught his gaze. A thin line of red. Blood rolled slow from under her bandage. It moved down the side of her palm. Then along her wrist. A small trail. Dark against her pale skin. Her face looked pained for a moment. Her brows pulled together. Her lips pressed tight. She did not stop. She did not look at her hand. She kept walking. Head down. Quiet.
Jinshi felt a sharp pull in his chest. He wanted to call her back. To ask if it hurt. To tell her to stop and rest. But the words stayed inside. Here, in this place, he was Lord Jinshi. Not a man who could show worry for a maid's wound. Not in front of others. He kept silent. But he noticed. Every drop. Every small wince. It stayed with him.
The screen closed fully. Yelan was gone.
The room felt empty without her.
Maomao spoke first. She put the cloth bag on the table. "She is strange. But good. Very good."
Gaoshun stood with arms behind his back. "She sees things others do not. Smells things. Knows things."
Jinshi looked at the door. Then at the bed. "She felt the poison. In her own body. When she healed Xiao Mei."
Maomao nodded. "I saw it. She sat down after. Tired. Like she took some of the chill inside her."
Gaoshun asked, "Do you think she is from a village? Or something else?"
Maomao thought for a moment. "Village people know herbs. But not like this. Not so fast. Not with scents. She is more."
Jinshi spoke low. "She said the poison came from far away. North. Cold places."
Maomao crossed her arms. "That matches. The chill. The sweet smell. Like ice flowers. Not from here."
Gaoshun looked serious. "We must watch the traders. The gates. The gardens. This may not be the last."
Jinshi nodded. "Keep eyes open. Quietly."
Maomao looked at him. "And Yelan? We keep her close?"
Jinshi paused. "Yes. She is useful. And... safe."
The three of them stood in silence. Xiao Mei breathed steady. The lanterns burned low.
Outside, the sky had turned dark. Night had come.
Jinshi left the apothecary room last. He walked the corridors alone. His steps were slow. Thoughtful. The palace was quiet now. Servants had gone to their quarters. Lanterns glowed soft along the walls.
He thought of Yelan. The blood on her hand. The pain she hid. The way she left without a word. No need for thanks. No need for attention.
He wanted to talk to her. To ask about the wound. To see if she was alright. To understand more.
Night had fallen full. The moon hung low. Silver light came through the windows.
Jinshi turned toward the maids' wing. Toward the small quarters.