Chapter 4 Departure for the capital

Departure

Master wept as he escorted us to the city gates, pressing two trunks of medical texts and herbs into my hands. "Study diligently in the capital," he exhorted, shooting Yu Beijing a glare as if he were a thief. The young scholar ignored him, grinning as he helped me into the carriage. "Time to go, sister-in-law—Beijing awaits!"

The journey north grew bitterly cold, snowflakes swirling like torn silk. Yu Beijing urged the horses faster, sensing a blizzard. But the storm descended abruptly, trapping us in mountainous terrain. We sought refuge in a crumbling temple, only to find it already occupied by a noble entourage.

A girl swathed in white fox fur sat by the fire, her beauty striking as a painted goddess. When Yu Beijing introduced himself, her eyes lit with predatory interest. "You're quite… remarkable," she purred, ordering her men to share the space.

That night, I lay awake, acutely aware of Yu Beijing's presence beside me. His whispered reassurance—*"I'll keep watch"—*sent a shiver through me. Just as sleep claimed me, the temple groaned. Yu Beijing dragged us to safety moments before the roof collapsed, saving not only us but the noble party.

The girl's steward pressed silver into our hands, but Yu Beijing refused. "Take it," she commanded, her gaze lingering. "You've earned it." Before we left, her men recorded our address—ominously.

We settled near the academy, Yu Beijing immersing himself in studies. Meanwhile, my reputation as a healer spread after treating a neighbor's child. Women flocked to me, their ailments ranging from childbirth complications to heartaches. Mother-in-law dreamed of an apothecary, but I hesitated—until the noble girl's steward reappeared.

He arrived with gifts: medicinal herbs, rare books, and a deed to an apothecary. "My lady admires your talents," he said, his smile razor-thin. "She also admires Scholar Yu." The implication hung heavy—marriage to the girl, a noble's daughter, was expected.

Yu Beijing's mentor stormed in, berating him for defiance. "You cannot refuse!" he warned. Soon, rival apothecaries closed abruptly, leaving only mine open. Neighbors pleaded for care, their desperation forcing my hand.

On the day I unlocked the apothecary door, Yu Beijing stood silent, his eyes dark as storm clouds. The girl's steward arrived later, collecting the deed with a smirk. "The wedding date is set," he declared, leaving us breathless.

That night, Yu Beijing pressed a folded letter into my hand. "If I don't return from the examination," he said hoarsely, "take Mother and flee south." Before I could speak, he vanished into the snow.