BDSMST -Chapter 43 The Wonders of the Spiritual Spring Water

Shen Qinghe carried the food container almost at a run back to his dilapidated courtyard.

He pushed open the creaking door, and a wave of air mixed with mildew and medicine hit him. The room was unlit, with only moonlight streaming through a hole in the roof, illuminating the small, curled-up figure on the bed.

“Yue’er… Yue’er, wake up.” He moved to the bedside, speaking in a whisper, afraid of startling his sister.

The girl on the bed, Shen Qingyue, seemed asleep, yet also half-conscious. She murmured weakly, her brows tightly furrowed.

Shen Qinghe set down the container and retrieved a tinderbox from his clothes, lighting the nearly exhausted oil lamp on the table.

The dim yellow light pushed back some of the darkness.

He opened the container and brought out the steaming bowl of chicken-and-vegetable porridge. The rich aroma instantly filled the modest room.

He scooped a small spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it to his sister’s lips.

“Yue’er, eat a little. Look what your brother has brought you.”

The smell seemed to awaken Shen Qingyue’s consciousness. She slowly opened her eyes, and her once dull, lifeless gaze brightened for a moment as she saw the bowl of porridge.

“Brother…” Her cracked lips moved, her voice faint as a mosquito’s buzz.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Shen Qinghe helped her sit up, letting her lean against him. “Come, open your mouth. Let’s eat the porridge.”

Obediently, Shen Qingyue opened her mouth. The warm porridge slipped down her throat.

The porridge was cooked to a perfect softness, melting in her mouth. The rich chicken broth, the sweetness of the vegetables, and the tender rice grains blended into a warm, healing taste that words could hardly capture.

The warmth flowed along her esophagus into her cold, empty stomach.

Almost immediately, Shen Qingyue’s body seemed infused with strength. Her furrowed brow relaxed for the first time in days.

“Delicious… so good…” she murmured, opening her mouth for another spoonful.

Seeing this, Shen Qinghe’s heart leapt. He quickly fed her a second, then a third spoonful.

By the end of the bowl, most of the porridge had gone into Shen Qingyue’s stomach. It was the largest meal she had eaten in days. After finishing, a faint blush appeared on her pale cheeks.

“Brother, I want the bun too.” She pointed to the white steamed bun beside her.

Shen Qinghe quickly tore the bun into small pieces and fed her.

Watching his sister regain her appetite, the tension that had gripped him all night finally eased. He knew she had, at least for now, pulled through this crisis.

He finished the remaining half bowl of porridge and the other bun in a few bites. The warmth seeped into his frozen body, reviving him as well.

What he did not know was that in that seemingly ordinary bowl of chicken-and-vegetable porridge, Jiang Suisui had secretly dropped two drops of Spiritual Spring Water from her pocket before serving it.

The Spiritual Spring Water did not have any miraculous cure-all power, but it contained the purest life energy, capable of nourishing the body, regulating vital energy, and stimulating the body’s natural recovery abilities. For someone like Shen Qingyue, weak and long-ill, these few drops were more effective than any rare medicinal herb.

What it awakened was her body’s most primal survival instinct.

That night, Shen Qingyue slept exceptionally soundly, no longer awakened by violent coughing.

The next morning, when Shen Qinghe awoke, he was astonished to find his sister breathing much more steadily. Her face was still pale, but the sickly aura that had clouded her features had lessened significantly.

As promised, Shen Qinghe had settled his sister and arrived at Jiang Suisui’s estate on time.

Around the stone table in the courtyard, Gu Xuan, Wei Ziqian, Qian Duoduo, and the other young masters were slouched in a loose circle, clearly forced to attend class. One by one, they looked listless, yawning endlessly.

“Sit up straight!” Gu Xuan, the “chief in charge,” dutifully tried to maintain order. “From today on, Mister Shen is our teacher! Anyone who misbehaves will have their work points deducted—double!”

At the threat of losing points, the students reluctantly straightened up.

Shen Qinghe looked at this group of youths—dressed simply, yet each bearing the air of wealth or noble status—and felt a pang of unease. He adjusted his clothes, stepped forward, and bowed deeply to them.

“I am Shen Qinghe. From today, I will be your teacher. I hope all of you will kindly guide me as well.”

His opening words were humble yet solemn.

And so the first lesson began, in this peculiar atmosphere.

Shen Qinghe taught the basics of the Three Character Classic. He spoke earnestly, citing examples and explaining clearly. But the students’ attention was elsewhere.

Qian Duoduo nearly dozed off, his head nodding dangerously close to the table. Li Rui, beneath the table, was secretly watching two ants fight.

Only Gu Xuan and Wei Ziqian paid attention, out of obligation. Gu Xuan felt that as the “chief in charge,” he had to set an example. Wei Ziqian, on the other hand, simply refused to be outdone by Gu Xuan—even in listening to a lesson.

Shen Qinghe observed all this, quietly sighing. He knew that teaching these young masters would not be easy.

At noon, Jiang Suisui sent Chunxing to deliver lunch to the Shen siblings: again, a delicate two-dish-and-soup meal with high-quality white rice. In the soup prepared for Shen Qingyue, Jiang Suisui subtly added a few more drops of Spiritual Spring Water.

And so, day after day passed.

Shen Qinghe taught during the day at the estate, returning home at night to care for his sister. Shen Qingyue’s body improved visibly, almost day by day.

At first, it was only her appetite that returned. Then her coughing grew less frequent, and she could sleep through the night. Eventually, she even managed to get out of bed, walk a few steps in the courtyard while holding onto the wall.

Her pale little face gradually regained color, and her once dull eyes sparkled anew.

Shen Qinghe attributed all of this to the “meals” provided by Jiang Suisui. He realized that everything produced in the estate seemed to carry a kind of magical vitality. The rice tasted sweeter than anywhere else. The vegetables were fresher and crisper. Even the simplest chicken soup seemed infused with nourishing energy.

He grew increasingly curious and respectful toward both the estate and the seemingly calm, composed Madam Jiang.

One day, while he was explaining a Tang poem to Gu Xuan and the others, Shen Qingyue walked into the estate courtyard all on her own.

She wore a clean, old outfit that Chunxing had given her, her hair neatly combed. Though still slender, she appeared, in spirit and demeanor, just like a healthy girl her age.

She approached her brother at the teaching table and, shyly, performed a formal bow to all the young masters seated there.

“Yue’er pays respects to all brothers, and to… Madam,” her gaze finally resting on Jiang Suisui, quietly observing from a short distance.

“Thank you, Madam, for saving Yue’er’s life.” Her voice was clear, bright, and full of genuine gratitude.

Everyone in the courtyard stopped in surprise, marveling at the transformation of the once fragile girl.

Shen Qinghe’s eyes misted. He stepped forward, and once again performed a deep, formal bow to Jiang Suisui.

“The great kindness of Madam will never be forgotten by Qinghe and his sister.”

Jiang Suisui looked at him, then at the timid yet lively girl, a faint smile appearing on her face.

She knew that, without intending to, she had once again harvested the estate’s most precious wealth: the loyalty and hearts of people.