MCSCPM -Chapter 27 An Unexpected Encounter with Nangong Xiao

After leaving Luochen Courtyard, Yin Qingyue followed the route she remembered and arrived at Jiupin Ju.

After all, finding medicine to improve her physical constitution required effort. With Nanny Zhao being so miserly, expecting her to be fed properly there was like waiting for a miracle.

Yin Qingyue sighed lightly, her resolve to leave Luochen Courtyard strengthening. No matter if it meant going hungry, she could not remain there…

She entered the main door of Jiupin Ju and went up to the second floor, choosing a corner to sit.

The waiter immediately recognized her as the young lady who had come with Leng Feng the day before and did not dare be negligent.

“Miss, what would you like to eat today?”

He asked politely, thinking that although this young lady was ugly, her manner and demeanor were extremely refined. She must come from a wealthy family. Fortunately, Yin Qingyue had not blamed him yesterday.

“Bring me a few of the dishes that are most nourishing for qi and blood!” Yin Qingyue instructed lightly.

“Certainly! Miss, please wait a moment.”

Before the dishes arrived, Yin Qingyue idly looked around.

Her gaze suddenly fell on a handsome, almost ethereal man sitting by the window. His features were like a painting, finely sculpted, yet his expression was dark, with an unshakable hint of sorrow in his brows.

As a descendant of a family of physicians, Yin Qingyue immediately recognized the reason for his expression.

The man coughed heavily, clutching his chest, his sharp brows twisted in pain. Suddenly, he looked up at Yin Qingyue coldly, clearly displeased.

Yin Qingyue met his gaze without flinching, quickly forming a rough diagnosis of his condition.

The man’s displeasure deepened. With a snort that was neither heavy nor light, he said, “Ugly people cause trouble. Ugly girl, mind your eyes!”

Yin Qingyue pursed her lips slightly. To speak such words to a woman upon first meeting her—this man’s heart must be exceedingly dark.

She smiled faintly. “The feeling is mutual. Your words are returned to you, sir. How do you know I was looking at you if you weren’t even looking at me?”

She added with a hint of self-mockery, “Who would have thought that a girl born with such looks could catch your eye? Truly, sir, you are without prejudice, accepting all comers—I admire your boldness.”

Having spoken, her smile grew even brighter.

The man slammed his thin hand onto the table with force. “What nonsense are you spouting! Since when has Jiupin Ju allowed such an ugly girl inside?! Cough… cough!”

Rage surged through him, and Nangong Xiao’s face turned even paler.

Nearby, the waiter wiped cold sweat from his brow, unsure how to respond. Yin Qingyue was aligned with Prince Jing, while Nangong Xiao was someone neither side could afford to offend—he was caught in a dilemma.

He quickly ran outside, pretending not to notice, thinking that ignorance would solve everything.

Yin Qingyue smiled faintly, sipping the high-quality Biluochun tea from Jiupin Ju.

Nangong Xiao was furious, almost foaming with rage. In all his life, aside from his father, no one had ever dared speak to him this way!

Part of his restraint was for his health, and part was due to his status as Crown Prince. He had been favored by the Emperor since childhood; though his mother had been deposed and his body was weak, he was still made Crown Prince.

Handsome, talented, admired, yet constantly schemed against—he hated people approaching him, for it often meant hidden schemes. This was why, upon sensing Yin Qingyue’s gaze, he had scolded her; her unguarded attention made him uncomfortable.

Unexpectedly, this ugly woman, despite her looks, had a sharp tongue and, with a few words, inflamed his anger while leaving him speechless. This woman…

How long had it been since he had displayed emotions in front of others? Nangong Xiao realized, stunned, that before a stranger’s eyes, he had failed to conceal his feelings.

Before he could respond to her words, pain exploded in his chest like a bomb. He clutched his chest tightly, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Inwardly, he thought: this ugly girl is a jinx—her words have triggered my hidden ailment…

Yin Qingyue had been waiting leisurely for his reaction, but none came.

She glanced at him and noticed that the once enraged Nangong Xiao now looked pale, his body trembling slightly.

With her experience and medical training, Yin Qingyue immediately understood: his illness had flared unexpectedly. She could not help but be amused and exasperated.

A sickly person usually restrains emotions, as extreme joy or anger worsens the condition. But this man, weak as he was, remained brooding, irritable, and easily angered—truly seeking trouble for himself.

Yin Qingyue had initially considered ignoring him, but realizing that it was their quarrel that triggered his flare-up, she sighed. Seeing that others around were too focused on eating to notice, she stepped forward.

“Let me see your hand,” she said.

Nangong Xiao reluctantly lifted his head, his gaze cold. “None of your business. Stay away! Don’t think you can approach me just like that!”

A strong sense of danger surged within him, convinced that Yin Qingyue had approached him with ulterior motives.

Yin Qingyue, trained as a modern doctor, had high professional ethics. Seeing him refuse treatment and risk his own health was unbearable. Her sharp eyes fixed on him.

“You’re mistaken. As a doctor, one must treat the sick regardless of their rank, wealth, age, beauty, or relations. I see all patients as equally close to me. I have no prejudice against curing you. If you refuse treatment, are you courting death?”

As his breathing grew labored, Yin Qingyue rebuked him sharply while grabbing his hand: “At least let me take your pulse!”

Nangong Xiao paused. Looking at her ugly face, he no longer felt the same irritation as before.

He had given up hope for his hidden ailment, but if she wished to try, he would allow it. He sighed inwardly.

He had never met anyone who, upon noticing his hidden illness, didn’t shy away but actively stepped forward to treat him.

His condition was peculiar; imperial doctors were helpless. Each time they tried to take his pulse, they grimaced as if they themselves were ill. But this ugly woman, though unattractive, showed no fear of failure, only meticulous care.

Nangong Xiao’s expression softened, tinged with melancholy. He sighed: “No need to examine me; it cannot be cured.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Yin Qingyue replied confidently. She withdrew her hand, seeing his despondent expression, a faint self-assured smile on her lips.

Nangong Xiao, who had lost hope for his illness, looked up at her in surprise: “What did you say? Do you… you have a way to cure me?”

“We can try,” Yin Qingyue said with a charming smile. Though her face was ugly, her eyes shone with spirit. Nangong Xiao was momentarily dazzled, then fainted from the sudden dizziness.

Seeing him collapse, a flicker of determination crossed Yin Qingyue’s eyes. Since Nangong Xiao was closely connected with Jiupin Ju, he likely knew something about it. Moreover, saving lives was her duty—she could not miss this opportunity.

She glanced around and saw a carriage parked nearby, empty. She muttered to herself: “Sorry, I’ll borrow this carriage!”

While everyone else was still dazed, she placed the unconscious Nangong Xiao into the carriage and drove toward the outskirts.

In the wilderness, surrounded by barren mountains, she found an abandoned room with an old bed and laid Nangong Xiao down.

Moonlight poured through the broken window.

She studied Nangong Xiao—his face was captivating, with a natural aura of nobility, yet his body was frail, worn by long-term illness.

Judging from his fine silk clothes and jeweled waist ornaments faintly scented with Longyan incense, he was clearly of high status.

Placing her hand on his pulse, Yin Qingyue frowned. Perhaps curing him would even allow her to learn the secret recipes of Jiupin Ju. Otherwise, despite his alluring face, she would not have helped him.

She knew his illness well; for someone trained in modern medicine, treating him would be easy.

Urgently needing to perform acupuncture, she looked around and found nothing to use—then remembered her hairpin. She removed it, letting her long black hair fall over her shoulders.

Grasping the yellow jade hairpin, she pierced it directly into Nangong Xiao’s acupuncture points.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as she went deeper; his brows furrowed tightly. With the final prick, he fainted.

“Wake up!” she shouted. She had no time to linger, much less care for him until he recovered.

The pain from acupuncture was nearly unbearable; his delicate frame had struggled before succumbing, showing remarkable endurance.

Yin Qingyue silently admired his resilience. Most would have fainted immediately.

But business was business. She had to wake him—her goal wasn’t pity, but to obtain Jiupin Ju’s secret recipes.

In her past life, she wasn’t so ruthless, but after transmigrating into a constantly oppressed woman, she had no choice but to become strong.

Steeling herself, she looked at his captivating face, and once again plunged the hairpin into Nangong Xiao’s acupuncture points.