"Afterward, use two bottles of this dicine each ti, infused intravenously for half an hour. Administer it once every twenty-one days."
At Jin Wusuan’s residence, Li Ang handed over a box of Albumin-bound Paclitaxel to a middle-aged doctor and instructed, "This dicine is toxic and may cause adverse reactions such as anemia, nausea, diarrhea, fatigue, and so on. Notify imdiately if the situation becos severe—provided I’m in Chang’an at the ti."
The middle-aged doctor nodded continually, took out the dication instructions from the box, and carefully read them word for word.
Li Ang then turned around and looked at Jin Wusuan, who was lying on a lounge chair. This man was once the richest in Yu Country, originally stout and sturdy. Now, however, he looked like a deflated balloon, rapidly withering away. His complexion was pale, his hair was falling out, and he had no choice but to wear a hat to cover it up.
Jin Wusuan barely spoke, his voice hoarse, "Thank you, Dr. Li."
Li Ang waved his hand and said nothing more. He had spent a great deal of effort to produce this box of Albumin-bound Paclitaxel, but whether it could cure, or even slow down the disease, was still unknown.
Next to Jin Wusuan stood a beautiful woman in her thirties, holding a child. She wiped away her tears and said through gritted teeth, "Eldest Son has done so many good deeds, helped so many poor people, yet this wicked old heaven just refuses to see!"
"Let it be." Jin Wusuan waved his hand, gesturing his concubine not to say more. "Life and death are predestined. I have enjoyed all the glory and wealth in this half of my life; no matter what, I’ve not been shortchanged."
"Eldest Son—" The beautiful woman handed the child in her arms to a maid beside her, then gently leaned on Jin Wusuan’s shoulder, sobbing and whining, "It’s just so upsetting. So idlers in Chang’an City, upon hearing of your illness, didn’t rember your kindness, and even gossiped about it in the teahouses.
"They don’t think about it—if it weren’t for you diating at the Chang’an Chamber of Comrce, how could they wring money out of those large rchants’ mouths?
"Could those workshop laborers, those farrs selling grain and fruits, enjoy the good days they have now?
"These people don’t realize that business is the greatest charity."
PFFT.
Hearing this all-too-familiar and eyebrow-raising statent, Li Ang almost couldn’t hold back. He coughed a few tis to cover up the awkwardness and bid his leave with a bow.
As he was just reaching the living room, the steward of the Gold Mansion hurriedly followed him, holding an antique scroll tied with a silk ribbon.
"Mr. Li, please wait!" Manager Jin stopped Li Ang, his smile ingratiating. "You’ve taken so much trouble. This is a little token of appreciation; please accept it."
"What is this?" Li Ang took the scroll, intending to say that it was inappropriate for a doctor to accept gifts outside of dical fees, but as soon as he unrolled the scroll, his eyes lit up.
The scroll contained a piece of poetry, written with an elegant and bold calligraphy that seed ready to leap off the page like a giant roc. To the left side of the scroll, there were many seals; clearly, it had passed through the hands of nurous collectors.
"Li Taibai’s ’Du Lu’?" Li Ang exclaid in astonishnt.
"Yes," Manager Jin nodded. "It was collected from the folk in previous years, and after being appraised by several experts, it has been confird to be the personal handwriting of Li Taibai."
"This is too precious." Li Ang gazed at the bold and vigorous script on the scroll, unable to shift his eyes away.
Li Taibai’s authentic calligraphy was rare. Scrolls in such good condition were particularly scarce, often held as the deepest treasures in the vaults of the powerful elite from the Two Capitals and the thousand-year-old families. Even at the Chang’an Ghost Market, you would find no sellers, regardless of the price offered.
"It’s only right, Mr. Li. You manage countless affairs every day and were willing to take ti out of your busy schedule to take care of and treat our master. Everyone in Gold Mansion is tearfully grateful. Please, you must accept this gift."
Manager Jin’s eyes were tinged with red. When Jin Wusuan was alive, the Gold Mansion had indeed been as stable as Mount Tai. But now, with Jin Wusuan’s health waning day by day, unrest filled the mansion. The madams were calculating over properties, and the servants were planning their exits, while powerful and wealthy outsiders eagerly waited for a piece of the pie. The pressure was imaginable.
Manager Jin wiped away a tear, saring it across his greying temples.
"...Well then, I will not accept the agreed-upon follow-up dical fees. When I return, I’ll have soone send over a sufficient amount of flying money to make up the difference for the scroll."
Li Ang waved his hand, not allowing Manager Jin to decline, took up the scroll, and walked out of Gold Mansion.
The streets were bustling, bathed in bright sunshine. Li Ang unfolded the scroll, admiring it ticulously.
Unlike the Ti Sand or the Spirit Summoning Paper he had received before, this scroll inscribed with ’Du Lu’ was simply an ordinary piece of poetry. It had no fluctuations of Spiritual Energy nor any hidden swordsmanship techniques.
But Li Ang liked it very much, especially a few lines.
"Mighty swords hang on the wall, from ti to ti emitting a dragon’s cry. They have not been used to cut rhinoceros or elephant; their intricate designs are tarnished, and moss has grown.
National sha yet unavenged, how can one beco renowned? The Divine Eagle dreams in Dream Marsh, uncaring of the owls and kites.
For you, a blow, a roc that soars the nine heavens."
Li Ang read it over and over again, and finally, he let out a deep sigh, rolled up the scroll, tucked it into his chest, and strode away.
The streets of Chang’an bustled as ever. He casually entered a tavern, found a spot, and ordered tea and so light dishes.
It was noon, and the tavern was full of custors, sitting in pairs or groups, discussing casual matters.
To outsiders, the common people of Chang’an loved to chat about court affairs, always pretending to be mysteriously knowledgeable.
At the table before Li Ang, people were discussing the future planning of Yu Country’s railway. One person claid, "My uncle works under Prince Guang, specializing in surveying the terrain and drafting railway route maps. A casual stroke of his pen could turn people along the route into relocated households, laughing and moving into new hos built by the State Mansion."
At the table to Li Ang’s left, people were discussing secrets of the Academic Palace. One person assertively stated that Mountain Master Lian Xuanxiao had been seriously injured in last year’s Qixi anomaly. He was supposedly still recuperating and had long been absent from Academic Palace affairs.
Another speculated that the Mountain Master was feigning illness to lure out the Demon Sect hidden within Yu Country. This was a big ga that needed to be played slowly.
Where does one hear such things?
Li Ang was sowhat amused yet also exasperated, silently shaking his head. Ordinary people had no access to the secrets of the Academic Palace, so naturally, they imagined everything to be complicated, fitting the image they had in their minds.
Sotis Li Ang himself beca a topic of idle gossip among the common folk.
Such as, "Mr. Li was personally deed by Academic Palace Director Xi Yangyu to have inadequate Spiritual Vein Talent, yet he was still given special admission. There’s deep aning behind this. Mr. Li shares the surna Li with the Li Yu Royal Family. He even defied Yu Law by driving his carriage into the inner garden of Great Ming Palace. The implications of this need not be elaborated further."
Many rumors about Li Ang’s origins circulated, and if not for his complete childhood mories, he would almost begin to doubt his own life.
Reviews
All reviews (0)