Ying Yue's Flower Lilies

The smog, thick and pungent, billowed from the clay stove, swirling into the atmosphere in lazy tendrils that danced through the air before disappearing into the horizon. Its journey began at the little chimney's hole, a humble vent atop the small cottage, a silent announcement of life within its walls.

For two weeks now, Suyin and Areum had found solace in the shelter of this modest abode. Upon receiving the letter, Suyin had resolved to care for the house in the absence of its owner, fearing his return to find his home abandoned, a wreckage of neglect. And so, amidst the verdant embrace of the cottage's backyard, they remained, guardians of the soil and stewards of the homestead.

The yard, a supply of nature's bounty, boasted rows of fresh vegetables, flourishing plants, ripe fruits, and even the whispered secrets of medicinal herbs.

It was a sanctuary they tended to with reverence, a haven gifted by the kindness of the old man who had extended his hospitality. As Areum tended to the verdant plotland, her hands guiding the flow of water from the bucket beside the well, Suyin moved with purpose within the confines of the house.

There, amidst the comforting aroma of steaming vegetables, she labored over the stove, a silent sentinel of sustenance for the two weary travelers. Yet, amidst the tranquility of their routine, a disturbance stirred.

Areum's diligent gaze caught sight of a figure sprawled upon the ground, a solitary form amidst the green expanse. Panic tinged with concern gripped her heart as she approached, uncertainty gnawing at her mind.

Was this person friend or foe, living or lifeless?

It was a child, her delicate frame curled into a protective cocoon, her closed eyes betraying the silent struggle within. Without hesitation, Areum gathered the child into her arms, a gesture of compassion borne from the depths of her soul.

"Are you okay? I'll bring you to my lady," she murmured softly, the weight of responsibility settling upon her shoulders as she carried the girl's fragile form toward the cottage. "Suyin!" Her voice, a beacon of urgency, pierced the tranquility of the house, drawing Suyin's attention from her culinary pursuits.

Suyin's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and concern as she beheld the sight before her: Areum cradling the trembling form of a child in her arms.

Without hesitation, she sprang into action, swiftly maneuvering to ensure the safety of both the child and their surroundings. "Areum, put her on the bed. I'll check her pulse," Suyin directed, her voice laced with urgency as she followed Areum into the room, her heart pounding with apprehension.

Areum gently laid the girl upon the bed, her features etched with worry, while Suyin settled into a chair beside her, her focus solely on the fragile figure before them. "May I take a look?" Suyin's voice, soft and reassuring, carried the weight of her expertise as she sought the child's consent, a fundamental gesture of respect for her autonomy.

With a barely perceptible nod, the child granted her silent permission, her trust placed in the hands of this compassionate stranger. Gently, Suyin's fingers sought out the rhythmic dance of the child's pulse, her brow furrowing in concern as she detected the irregular cadence beneath her touch.

"Strange, she has an irregular heartbeat pattern," she murmured, her mind racing to unravel the mystery shrouding the child's ailment. "Are you hurt all over?" Suyin's inquiry, delivered with gentle care, elicited a response that tugged at her heartstrings.

The child's tears, silent witnesses to her silent suffering, mirrored the depth of her pain as she struggled to articulate her agony. "Good girl. I know that you've been enduring for a while now," Suyin murmured softly, her touch a balm against the child's anguish.

With tender precision, she examined the tender swell of the child's knees, her heart aching in sympathy as the child winced beneath her touch. "That hurts," the child whispered, her voice a fragile echo of her distress.

Suyin nodded, her resolve strengthened by the child's resilience in the face of adversity. Though the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, she remained steadfast in her determination to alleviate the child's suffering. "I'm going to let you lay down straight, okay?" Suyin's gentle reassurance, punctuated by a warm smile, offered a glimmer of comfort amidst the storm of pain.

The child's once fearful gaze softened, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of calm in the presence of Suyin's compassionate demeanor.

Fear was the initial apprehension that had shadowed her features upon their first encounter, replaced now by a tentative curiosity as she regarded Suyin with a measure of trust. "What is your name, little girl?" Suyin's voice, a soothing melody of warmth and kindness, wove through the air, seeking to divert the child's attention from the tendrils of pain that still lingered.

Understanding the importance of distraction in alleviating discomfort, she gently guided the conversation towards a more lighthearted realm. "Chuhua," came the reply, a single word imbued with a quiet strength that belied the child's tender years. "Ah! What a lovely name! It means chrysanthemum, a type of flower. Did you know that?" Suyin's words, infused with gentle enthusiasm, painted a canvas of knowledge before the child's eyes, offering respite from the throes of suffering.

With a nod of affirmation, Chuhua listened intently, her curiosity piqued by the revelation of her own namesake. "Did you know that your name signifies happiness and longevity?" Suyin's revelation sparked a flicker of wonder in Chuhua's eyes, her gaze alight with newfound understanding. "Does it really mean that?" The child's voice, tinged with a hint of disbelief, betrayed the weight of uncertainty that had long shrouded her existence.

For too long, she had been labeled with diagnoses and prognoses, her future cast in the shadows of doubt by the words of doctors who deemed her condition "hopeless." With a tender smile, Suyin nodded in affirmation, her words a beacon of reassurance amidst the sea of doubt. "Yes! With a name as beautiful as yours, you possess the strength to endure any challenge that comes your way." Gently, Suyin's fingers traced the contours of Chuhua's muscles, her touch a delicate dance against the canvas of pain.

Yet this time, Chuhua remained stoic, her expression serene as she bore the weight of discomfort with a newfound resilience. "Does it still hurt?" Suyin's inquiry, laced with genuine concern, sought to gauge the extent of Chuhua's suffering.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Chuhua affirmed the lingering presence of pain, yet her words carried a subtle undertone of determination. "I can endure it this time, though." The child's voice, though soft, echoed with a quiet resolve that spoke volumes of her inner strength.

"How does it hurt?" Suyin's inquiry, spoken with gentle concern, sought to unravel the intricate web of symptoms that plagued Chuhua, a puzzle whose pieces had long eluded both doctors and patients alike. "Sometimes this pain comes and goes in my body, and it feels like it's burning everywhere," Chuhua's voice, tinged with a note of resignation, carried the weight of her suffering as she attempted to articulate the indescribable torment that gripped her fragile form.

For her, the agony was a constant companion, a relentless assailant that defied explanation or remedy. "At times, it stings a lot, and then it doesn't hurt as much anymore," she continued, her words a whispered lament to the ever-shifting nature of her affliction.

Though her description painted a vivid portrait of her suffering, it offered little solace in the face of the insidious enemy that lurked within. As Chuhua spoke, Suyin listened intently, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities as she pieced together the fragments of information.

"If it's a burning sensation and touching areas that are vulnerable to this would cause more pain..." Her voice trailed off, her gaze fixed upon the wall as she delved into the depths of her medical knowledge, searching for clues amidst the labyrinth of symptoms. "That means that it has to do something with the muscles," she concluded, her words a whispered revelation that hung in the air like a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of uncertainty.

With a flicker of recognition, Suyin's mind journeyed back to a distant memory, a case similar to Chuhua's that had crossed her path during her early years as a pediatric doctor during her present time.

Though the details had long faded into the recesses of her mind, the essence of the problem remained etched in her memory, a ghostly reminder of the battles fought and victories won.

"Well, I think I have something to start with, though," Suyin murmured, her voice tinged with determination as she gently patted Chuhua's head, a silent promise of aid and comfort.

With a swift motion, she rose from her chair, her resolve unyielding as she entrusted Areum with Chuhua's care. "Areum, look after her, please. I'll hurry back and treat her. Don't forget to put out the fire!"

Her words, spoken with urgency, carried the weight of her determination as she dashed towards the door, her mind ablaze with the flickering embers of an idea that promised relief amidst the darkness of despair.

With each step, Suyin's resolve hardened, her determination unwavering as she embarked on a journey to heal not just the body, but the spirit of a child whose name, like a chrysanthemum in bloom, heralded the promise of hope amidst the barren landscape of uncertainty.

---------------------------

The encounter with Wansun had proven fortuitous indeed, for tucked within the folds of Suyin's robe lay a treasure trove of knowledge encapsulated within the pages of a worn blue book.

This book, a faithful companion on her journey, held the secrets of ancient Chinese medicine, a legacy passed down through generations and now entrusted to her care. "I remember there was a plant that would help ease pain and stiffness," Suyin murmured to herself, her voice a soft echo amidst the tranquil embrace of the forest.

With purposeful strides, she ventured forth into the verdant expanse, the blue book clasped firmly in her grasp. Each step brought her closer to her goal, her eyes scanning the pages in search of the elusive herb that held the promise of relief. The towering sentinels of the forest surrounded her, their branches reaching towards the heavens in silent reverence to the passage of time.

Unlike the ominous depths of the Forest of Lost Souls, this woodland sanctuary exuded an air of serenity, a testament to the harmonious coexistence between nature and mankind. "Impressive enough, I do recall that the plant is commonly used for the elderly. Problems such as arthritis and muscle strains were inscribed in here for the indications of the herb," Suyin murmured, her fingers tracing the faded ink upon the weathered pages.

With each turn of the page, she delved deeper into the annals of knowledge, her determination unwavering in the face of adversity. And then, as if guided by an unseen hand, she found it—the elusive herb that had eluded her grasp for so long.

"That's it! Ying Yue's flower lily," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a note of triumph as she beheld the image before her. But her moment of victory was short-lived, for with a sudden jolt, Suyin felt a sharp impact against her head, sending her reeling backwards in surprise.

As she struggled to regain her balance, her eyes met those of an unexpected intruder, their gaze locked in a moment of shared astonishment. "I'm sorry!" Suyin exclaimed, her voice tinged with embarrassment as she hastily retrieved her fallen book from the forest floor, its pages fluttering in the breeze. And then, as she gazed upon the face of the person before her, she paused, her heart skipping a beat in recognition of the familiar visage that stood before her.

"T-Tienzheng!"

Suyin's voice wavered with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty as she uttered the name, a reflexive response to the unexpected encounter with the enigmatic figure who stood before her.

It seemed that fate had a penchant for orchestrating their meetings, regardless of her own desires. Qin Fuhua, once a familiar presence in her life, now appeared before her in a guise vastly different from the image etched in her memory.

The scholarly attire that had once defined him, was replaced now by the regal bearing of a man who commanded attention with every fiber of his being.

His tall, imposing figure stood like a sentinel, exuding an aura of authority tinged with an icy detachment that sent shivers down her spine. With a simple adjustment of his robes and a dismissive glance in her direction, Qin Fuhua made no effort to acknowledge her presence, his silence a stark reminder of the chasm that now separated them. "What are you doing here?" Suyin's voice, tinged with uncertainty, faltered as she struggled to make sense of the sudden intrusion into her solitude.

Yet even as she spoke, she realized the futility of her question. Their paths had crossed once more, but the reasons behind his presence remained shrouded in mystery, a puzzle she had no desire to unravel. "Ahem. I mean, sorry for getting in your way. I'll be taking my leave now," she muttered, her words a feeble attempt to mask the unease that simmered beneath the surface.

With a sidelong glance, she made a half-hearted attempt to sidestep him, her hand lifted in a gesture of apology as she sought to continue her quest. "Are you looking for something?" Qin Fuhua's voice, firm and unwavering, cut through the silence like a blade, halting Suyin's movements in their tracks. With a quirk of her eyebrow, she turned to face him, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes as she contemplated her next move. "Oh, is the great scholar actually interested?" she mused silently, a smirk playing upon her lips as she toyed with the idea of withholding information from him. With a casual spin on her heel, she darted off the beaten path, a playful challenge thrown in his direction. Yet as she stole a furtive glance over her shoulder, she found him unmoved, his gaze fixed ahead as he continued on his own path.

A pang of disappointment flitted through her heart, swiftly replaced by a sense of determination. For in that moment, she realized that his presence, though once significant, held no sway over her purpose.

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As Suyin stood at the precipice of the cliff, her gaze sweeping the jagged edge in search of the elusive herb, her mind wandered back to the legend of Ying Yue's flower lily, a tale woven with threads of beauty, betrayal, and redemption. The flower, a delicate bloom that thrived in the most precarious of environments, held within its petals the echoes of a bygone era—a time when the world was adorned with the splendor of nature's bounty, and the spirits of the land danced in harmony with humanity. The legend spoke of Ying Yue, a woman of unparalleled grace and generosity, whose love for flowers knew no bounds. Adored by all who knew her, she tended to her garden with a fervor unmatched, her passion a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf the world. But as with all tales of beauty, jealousy lurked in the shadows, casting its sinister gaze upon Ying Yue's cherished blooms. A jealous merchant, consumed by envy, sought to tarnish Ying Yue's legacy by poisoning her beloved flowers, casting her into a deep slumber from which she would never awaken. Yet even in death, Ying Yue's spirit endured, her essence lingering amidst the cliffs where her garden once bloomed. It was said that the lily flowers that now adorned the cliffs were a testament to her undying love for all living things, a reminder of her selfless devotion to those in need. For Suyin, the legend of Ying Yue had been a cherished part of her childhood, passed down through generations as a testament to the enduring power of love and compassion.

It was a story that had captivated her imagination, filling her heart with hope and wonder. And now, as she stood upon the edge of the cliff, the weight of the legend pressing upon her shoulders, Suyin couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and reverence for the flower that held the key to her salvation.

For in the petals of the Ying Yue's flower lily lay the promise of healing—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope for a brighter tomorrow.

As Suyin reached out towards the delicate white-belled flowers that swayed gently in the breeze, her heart raced with a mixture of determination and trepidation.

Though the edge of the cliff beckoned with the promise of salvation for Chuhua, the sheer drop below sent shivers of fear down her spine. "Alright," Suyin whispered, her voice a fragile echo amidst the roar of the wind. "Do it for Chuhua."

With a deep breath to steady her nerves, she steeled herself for the task ahead, her mind focused on the singular goal of retrieving the precious flowers that held the key to the child's salvation. Step by cautious step, Suyin edged closer to the edge of the cliff, her eyes fixed upon the elusive blooms that danced just beyond her reach.

With trembling hands, she reached out, her fingers grazing the delicate petals with a tenderness born of desperation. "Just... a little more..." she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest as she inched ever closer to the precipice.

And then, with a surge of triumph, she seized the flowers in her grasp, their fragile beauty a testament to her unwavering determination. "Got it!" she exclaimed, a fleeting moment of triumph overshadowed by the sudden realization that her footing was precarious at best.

In her haste, she had ventured too close to the edge, the ground beneath her feet crumbling beneath her weight. And then, with a sickening lurch, gravity took hold, sending Suyin hurtling towards the abyss below.

Time seemed to slow as she tumbled through the air, her thoughts consumed by the knowledge that her actions had led to this moment of reckoning. Misfortune, it seemed, was always Suyin's shadow, a constant companion on her journey through life. And as she plummeted towards the unforgiving earth below, she could only pray that somehow, someway, her sacrifice would not be in vain. "I'm so sorry, Chuhua!" she cried out, her voice lost amidst the roar of the wind as she braced herself for the inevitable impact. In that moment of desperation, as darkness closed in around her, Suyin could only cling to the hope that perhaps, in her next life, her bad luck would finally relent, and she would find the peace and happiness that had always eluded her.