TSWPF – Chapter 7 The Fever

Perhaps it was because she was eager to get home, but Li Qingling felt the journey back went by much faster than the trip to town. Even Li Qingfeng didn’t need to be carried this time—they walked all the way home on their own.

As soon as they reached the courtyard gate, Li Qingling shouted for her mother. Hearing the familiar voice, Madam Zhao hurried out of the house. Seeing her children return safely, she finally let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re back?” She took the basket from Li Qingling’s back and felt its weight. “What did you buy? It’s so heavy!”

Li Qingfeng rushed inside, eyes bright with excitement, and told Madam Zhao that they would be having meat for dinner. Madam Zhao patted his head lovingly, praising him twice in a row, though her heart ached a little. Since their father’s passing, they hadn’t eaten meat in a long time. No wonder the boy was so happy.

“Mother, I sold the ginseng for one tael of silver. After buying some things, I still have half a tael left. Here, this is for you.” Li Qingling took out the remaining silver and handed it to Madam Zhao.

Madam Zhao shook her head. “You earned it. Keep it for yourself.”

“All right. But if you ever need anything, just ask me for it,” Li Qingling said, putting the silver away before taking out the items she had bought. “Mother, I bought some colored thread so you can make cord knots.”

“Good…” Madam Zhao’s eyes softened as she ran her fingers over the thread. Ever since their family had split off on their own, she had wanted to make decorative knots to earn some money, but she hadn’t been able to afford the materials. Now she could finally start, and maybe their home would have some extra income.

Li Qingfeng eagerly handed over a steamed bun to his mother. “Mother, eat this!”

Madam Zhao was overjoyed but still scolded Li Qingling lightly. Li Qingling only smiled, unbothered, and told Li Qingfeng to take the remaining four buns to Zhiyan.

Children loved doing such things, and Li Qingfeng ran off happily with the buns in hand, while Madam Zhao shouted after him to slow down.

“Your mother doesn’t like buns that much. You and Xiaofeng eat them,” Madam Zhao said, pushing the bun back toward Li Qingling.

Li Qingling glanced at her mother, feeling a wave of warmth. Parents were all the same—they would rather lie and say they didn’t like something than eat what should go to their children.

“Eat it. We already ate,” Li Qingling said, pushing the bun back before carrying the pork into the kitchen.

Watching her daughter’s small back fade into the kitchen, Madam Zhao wiped at her damp eyes and took a bite of the bun. It was, without a doubt, the most delicious bun she had ever eaten.

When Li Qingfeng came back from the Liu household, the smell of cooking meat hit his nose. He rushed straight into the kitchen, hugging Li Qingling from behind. “Sis, it smells so good!” He swallowed hard.

Li Qingling lifted the pot lid and tasted the broth. It was ready, so she took it off the fire. Glancing at Li Qingfeng, who was practically drooling, she said with amusement, “If you want to eat sooner, help me stoke the fire.”

In this household, there was no such thing as “a gentleman stays away from the kitchen.” The more her little brother learned, the better.

“Okay!” Though young, Li Qingfeng was quite skilled at tending the fire. When she said “big flame” or “small flame,” he adjusted it perfectly.

“All done—time to eat.” Li Qingling plated the stir-fried lean pork with mushrooms.

Tonight’s meal was rich: braised fatty pork in soy sauce, stir-fried lean pork with mushrooms, bone soup, and rice cooked from a mix of polished and unpolished grains. She nodded in satisfaction. Now this felt like real life.

Li Qingfeng inhaled deeply and sighed in delight. “It smells amazing!”

Li Qingling smiled, dividing the fatty and lean meats into two bowls and ladling out some bone soup. “You and Mother eat first. I’ll bring some to Brother Zhimou and his siblings—they probably haven’t had meat for months.”

“I want to go too!”

“Fine, you carry this one. Be careful!” Li Qingling handed him the bowl of meat, and the two set off for Liu Zhimou’s house.

The Lius’ were just about to eat when they arrived. Li Qingling noticed there was one bowl of fine rice porridge and two bowls of coarse porridge. Keeping her expression steady, she set the food on the table. “I cooked this myself. Try it and tell me if there’s anything I can improve.”

Liu Zhiyan looked from the meat to his older brother, biting his lip nervously without a word.

“Alright,” Liu Zhimou finally said after a pause. He would remember her kindness deeply.

Zhiyan’s face brightened. “Thank you, Sister Qingling! It looks delicious!”

Li Qingling smiled and patted his head. “Then eat plenty.” She then turned to Liu Zhimou. “We’ll head back for our meal now.”

She was quite satisfied with Liu Zhimou’s demeanor—thankfully, he wasn’t the kind of man who would rather starve than accept help out of misplaced pride. To her, that wasn’t integrity—it was just arrogance.

“Mm.” Liu Zhimou walked them to the gate, watching her back until she disappeared inside her house before closing the courtyard door.

Returning inside, he looked seriously at his younger brother. “Remember this—everything the Li family has done for us, we must repay when we can.”

Zhiyan nodded hard. “I’ll remember. But… brother, Sister Qingling is a bit dark-skinned. You won’t dislike her for that, right?”

Liu Zhimou shot him a half-smiling look. “Which eye of yours saw me disliking her, hmm?”

“Uh…” Zhiyan stammered, embarrassed. “You’re fair and she’s darker, so I just thought… anyway, as long as you don’t dislike her!”

In the middle of the night, Li Qingling was sound asleep when loud knocking startled her awake. She listened—it was Liu Zhimou’s voice, urgent and strained.

She jumped out of bed, forgetting her shoes, and ran to open the door. Liu Zhimou’s face was pale with anxiety. “Qingling, Rourou’s burning up! Could you lend me some silver? I’ll take her to the town doctor.”

He was clearly desperate.

Hearing this, Li Qingling turned and rushed back to grab her money. Pulling on her shoes, she ran out again just as Madam Zhao emerged from her room.

“What’s wrong?” Madam Zhao asked.

“Mother, Rourou has a fever. I’ll go with Brother Zhimou to town.”

“Be careful,” Madam Zhao said urgently. “Zhimou, go borrow the village head’s ox cart. Don’t delay—Rourou’s illness can’t wait.”

Liu Zhimou nodded quickly. “Wait at my house. I’ll fetch the cart.”

When Li Qingling reached the Liu house, she saw Liu Zhiyan crying as he held Liu Rourou in his arms.

She touched the girl’s forehead—it was burning hot. In these times, even a simple fever could be deadly.

Now she was anxious too. Before Zhimou returned, she fetched some warm water and wet a cloth, pressing it to Rourou’s forehead, hoping to lower the temperature a little.

“Sister Qingling… will she die?” Zhiyan sobbed. “It’s my fault—I didn’t watch her, and she caught a chill playing in the water.”

Li Qingling changed the cloth again and reassured him, “No, she won’t. Don’t think nonsense.”

Just then, Zhimou came back with the ox cart. Li Qingling quickly fetched a quilt and spread it on the cart—night air was damp and cold, and Rourou couldn’t be allowed to catch more chill.

“Zhiyan, get on and hold her,” Li Qingling called. Once the two were seated, she tucked the quilt around them.

The road to town took three hours on foot, but with the ox cart, they made it in half the time. When they arrived at Jishitang, Zhimou jumped down and knocked on the door.

“Coming, coming…” A voice sounded, and the door opened—it was the same apprentice they’d seen earlier that day. “Young Master Liu?”

“My little sister has a fever,” Zhimou said urgently. “Is Doctor Xu here?”

He knew only Doctor Xu stayed at the pharmacy overnight; the other physicians lived elsewhere.

“Doctor Xu’s still out on a call,” said the apprentice, glancing at the flushed child. “You can’t delay with her condition. Maybe try Baicaotang?”

Zhimou looked at his sister and clenched his jaw. If they delayed any longer, she might burn her brain out.

He thanked the boy, then drove the cart toward Baicaotang. The difference in attitude there was stark.

They knocked for a long time before someone lazily opened the door. Seeing their plain clothes, the man asked impatiently, “What do you want?”

If not for the urgency, Li Qingling would’ve kicked the door in. What kind of attitude is that?

“Is the doctor in? My sister has a fever,” Zhimou asked, holding back his temper.

“The doctor’s in, but night visits aren’t cheap. You got silver?”

Li Qingling’s voice was tight with anger. “Don’t worry—we’ll pay every coin. Just hurry up and get the doctor!”

The apprentice gave her a cold look and snorted before slowly going to fetch the physician.

After a long wait, a plump man waddled out. He glanced at them dismissively. “Where’s the patient?”

Zhimou silently stepped forward with the burning child in his arms. The fat doctor took her pulse briefly, then picked up his brush, wrote out a prescription, and told the apprentice to prepare the medicine.

Then, with a self-satisfied air, he sat down and said, “Consultation fee—two taels of silver.”

That greedy pig!

Li Qingling’s fists clenched. She glanced at Rourou, moaning weakly in pain, and exhaled slowly to suppress her rage.

“We only brought half a tael. I’ll bring the remaining one and a half later,” she said, placing the half tael on the table.

The fat man tossed the silver in his hand and looked at them with disdain. “Bring the rest, then you’ll get the medicine.”

Too much! Li Qingling was about to lash out, but Zhimou stopped her, setting Rourou gently in her arms. “I’ll be right back,” he said grimly.

He knew people at Jishitang—maybe they could lend him the money.

Just as he was about to leave, Shopkeeper Zhou from Jishitang entered with the same apprentice as before. “Two taels for a simple cold remedy? Huang Pangzi, have you lost your mind?” Shopkeeper Zhou tossed two taels on the table and took back Li Qingling’s half tael, handing it to her. “Now, where’s the medicine?”

Huang Pangzi snorted but waved his hand for the apprentice to bring the bowl.

Zhimou carefully fed the medicine to Rourou. The fat doctor sneered again, “Now that she’s had it, hurry up and leave.”

Shopkeeper Zhou deliberately sat down, smiling faintly. “We paid such an expensive fee—we’ll stay until the fever subsides. If she gets worse on the road, are you going to deny responsibility?”

He’d long despised Baicaotang’s shameless ways. Tonight, he finally had a chance to put that fat man in his place.