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As they chatted, Young Master Zhuo relaxed some of his defenses and lay down on the bed.
Hearing her words, he quietly regarded her with his elongated phoenix eyes for a moment before gracefully extending his hand.
Song Feiwan examined his hand up close, finding it even more beautiful than the fleeting glimpses she had caught before. His palm was not short, with well-proportioned, long joints. The skin was a cool white, and his nails were neatly trimmed, revealing a faint pink hue. Against the backdrop of the bright red quilt, it resembled exquisite white porcelain, exuding an almost sacred beauty that was hard to desecrate.
Even Song Feiwan, who had diagnosed many patients before, couldn’t help but admire it a little longer. Memories of the lantern festival surfaced in her mind, recalling the sensation of holding those hands—dry, strong, and slightly cool.
Shaking off her thoughts, she said, "I’ll begin now."
Her delicate white fingertips gently rested on his pulse. She focused her gaze on the bell hanging at the head of the bed, adjusting her fingers to feel more deeply.
The pulse indicated that he had suffered severe internal and external injuries several years ago. However, he had a solid foundation; the physical wounds had healed. Only his brain had not received proper treatment, leaving behind lingering effects. The cognitive impairment he experienced was indeed a result of the brain injury.
Song Feiwan understood this well. The brain is incredibly intricate; even modern medicine struggles to fully conquer brain injuries, let alone in ancient times. Treating his condition would be somewhat tricky; medication combined with acupuncture for a period might yield some results.
After coming to this conclusion, Song Feiwan looked at him and said, "I’ll help you with acupuncture."
The man on the bed lay with his eyes closed, stretching his long body in a tranquil manner—he had already fallen asleep!
Song Feiwan helplessly shut her mouth and withdrew her hand from his pulse. He truly acted like a child; he could just fall asleep whenever he wanted.
Acupuncture required the patient to be awake, and clearly, in this state, he was not suitable for treatment. After a long day of laboring from dawn till dusk, she too felt drowsy as his calmness infected her.
The bed had been taken over by him, and waking him up would require quite a bit of effort. Song Feiwan finally cast a lingering glance at him, stifled a yawn, and walked out into the other room.
There was another bed in the outer room, though it was much smaller than the one inside. Well, what could she do? He had helped her before, and he was a patient after all. She would let him have this one time.
Song Feiwan left a small lamp lit and lay down under the freshly sun-dried cotton quilt, letting out a comfortable sigh. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier as she mumbled to herself, "I must collect more consultation fees tomorrow."
As night deepened, the Prince Chen's residence fell into a deep slumber, but the Song family was shrouded in gloom.
Song Mingyuan had endured a solid twenty strikes, leaving his back bloodied and even causing some internal injuries! The doctor had said that he needed to rest well; at least a month would pass before he could get out of bed.
He was in excruciating pain, yet he didn't even have the strength to cry out. Lady Li was heartbroken, shedding tears incessantly while cursing Song Feiwan.
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