Bai Qingqing walked up beside him and said gently, “Don’t worry. He’s a doctor too. You’re a good brother—your sister’s going to be just fine.”
The boy’s guarded expression softened at her words. In his eyes, this sister-like figure was no less than a celestial maiden co down from the heavens, sent solely to save him and his sister.
On the way to the clinic, Bai Qingqing learned the boy’s na—he was called Chang’an, and his sister was Changlan. He didn’t know what their family na was.
They had no mory of their parents. Since as far back as they could rember, it had just been the two of them, clinging to each other. There had once been an old beggar who took pity on them and helped when he could, but he had passed away too, and now even the crumbling temple they hid in was no longer a safe place.
Years of hunger had left both Chang’an and Changlan much smaller and thinner than children their age. Chang’an said he didn’t mind—he just wanted to make sure his sister never went hungry. But still, she fell ill.
Guilt gnawed at him, and he clenched his fists as if he wanted to punch himself. Bai Qingqing didn’t try to comfort him with hollow words. Instead, she stopped at a vendor’s stall and bought a few stead buns, pressing them into his hands.
“She only has you. If you fall too, what will she do?”
Without a word, Chang’an took the buns and began devouring them. As he ate, he scrubbed his sleeve across his eyes, trying to hide his tears.
Changlan’s condition, in truth, wasn’t too serious. It had worsened only because of poor living conditions and neglect. Wen Jiang hadn’t brought her to the clinic to consult a physician—he simply bought the needed dicine, instructed an apprentice to prepare it, and then fed it to her himself. He also gave her a few acupuncture treatnts, and before long, the little girl’s eyelids fluttered open.
Chang’an threw himself forward, weeping with joy. The little girl’s dazed eyes flitted around the room, slowly filling with fear. She grabbed the sleeve of his robe and asked in a thin, trembling voice, “Brother… where are we? Did you do sothing?”
“We’re at a clinic. These two kind people helped us. Lanlan, are you feeling better now? I kept calling you and you wouldn’t answer—you scared half to death.”
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Lanlan’s timid deanor tugged at the heart. Bai Qingqing offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. Startled, the girl shrank behind her brother, but then peeked out, eyes wavering. After a long pause, she tentatively curved her lips into a shy smile.
Bai Qingqing’s heart trembled. So fragile, and yet, even having known nothing but darkness, she was still willing to trust, still able to respond to kindness. That hesitant little smile felt like it had healed sothing deep within her.
To Chang’an, seeing his sister awake was enough. Wen Jiang, however, didn’t let him off easily—he gave him a stern talk about how true recovery would take ti, proper care, and nourishnt. The cost of dicine he would cover, but the rest would be up to them.
That, to Chang’an, was already an imasurable kindness. “Thank you, benefactors. As long as my sister gets well, I swear I’ll take good care of her!”
When Bai Qingqing left, she turned to look back at the siblings one last ti. Wen Jiang had left enough silver that the clinic prepared a bowl of rice porridge for Lanlan, which she had finished. Her cheeks looked a little less pale, and she was chatting with her brother, a smile blooming on her face—untainted by the weight of the world.
“I’m not even as strong as a little girl…” Bai Qingqing gave a self-deprecating laugh, her eyes slowly filling with resolve. How could she allow herself to be weaker than a child?
Wen Jiang said nothing, watching her quietly. In his mind, Bai Qingqing wasn’t much older than the children they’d just helped. In any ordinary Xuancheng household, she would still be a child nestled in the arms of her parents. And yet, here she was—already so brave, so unyielding.
…
That night, Bai Qingqing gently but firmly refused Ning Yan’s offer to accompany her. “I can’t rely on you too much. I can do it on my own.”
She was thoughtful and sincere. On the surface, Ning Yan appeared perfectly composed. The mont he turned away, though, he strode straight into Wen Jiang’s room, slamd his sword onto the table, and asked, “Where did you take her today?”
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