The Wrong Answer

Readers of quick-transmigration, transmigration-into-a-book, system, and similar novels all knew that, to change a character's fate, one should stop their tragedy before it happened. Yet Song Qingshi had interpreted the question as a story that had already ended, where he was meant to save a character who had already suffered a tragic fate. One thought off, and he had gone a thousand miles astray.

In the original novel, Yue Wuhuan appeared only three times:

The first time, the protagonist shou had just been sold to Jinfeng Mountain Manor and saw the unbearable sight of Yue Wuhuan being toyed with by a guest, shattering his entire worldview.

The second time, the protagonist shou still held naïve hopes for the future. Yue Wuhuan mocked and humiliated him, forcing him to recognize his place.

The third time, on Langgan Terrace, Jin Feiren brought Yue Wuhuan out to entertain guests. He was accidentally torn apart by a yao tiger. Jin Feiren concealed why the tiger had gone mad and passed the incident off as a deliberately arranged game at the banquet. Through that extreme terror, he crushed the last shred of the protagonist shou's dignity, making him submit completely and become a plaything.

In short, Yue Wuhuan was a minor character with little page time who exited early, his promiscuity serving to highlight the protagonist shou's beauty and goodness. His beauty was only a lush, decadent flower on the verge of withering. How could it compare with a pure and unsullied flower of the morning sun that had yet to bloom?

This was a super-easy multiple-choice question that every reader could answer!

If the system had a spirit and were proctoring the exam, it would surely be so angry that it would crawl out and beat Song Qingshi to death for being an idiot.

Unaware that he had gone spectacularly off-topic, top student Song still rubbed his hands together in confidence, doing his utmost and vowing to hand in a perfect score!

On the way back to Medicine King Valley, Song Qingshi had completely absorbed the original owner's memories and mastered the vast stores of medical, alchemical, and pharmaceutical knowledge within. The immortal realm possessed rare herbs and miraculous elixirs, but the inheritance of its medical arts and pill formulas resembled traditional Chinese medicine: people knew their effects were wondrous but not what made them so.

Modern medicine systematically studied traditional Chinese medicine, identifying the relationships between the sovereign, minister, assistant, and courier ingredients; extracting the useful components from each drug; then developing medicines that were easier to take and more effective.

A female scientist had won a Nobel Prize for it, benefiting the world. Song Qingshi specialized in modern medicine. His thinking was unconventional, and he did not follow the immortal realm's traditional path. Before long, he had found new approaches to several problems the original owner had researched fruitlessly for years—have the Heavenly Craft Pavilion make substitutes for modern scientific instruments, then analyze the active ingredients in immortal medicines, purify them, study them, even synthesize them artificially...

Countless experimental plans poured endlessly into Song Qingshi's mind. Medicine King Valley had tens of thousands of books in its collection, inexhaustible medicinal materials, and ample research funding.

He was delighted like a mouse that had fallen into a rice bin, so happy he wanted to hug the system and kiss it several times.

Song Qingshi completely understood why the original owner had been a shut-in. In a paradise like this, he could be a shut-in for the rest of his life too!

Every day, he could immerse himself in the mad ocean of study and research, offering his life and soul to the god of medicine he loved most. No one could send him back!

The more Song Qingshi looked at Yue Wuhuan in his arms, the more he adored him.

This was the great treasure that gave him everything! He would surely do everything he could to save him, just as his parents had done for him before: indulge him, spoil him, love him, give him every good thing, and let him live as happily as a prince in a fairy tale!

Song "Fatherly Love as Vast as a Mountain" Qingshi was full of ambition. Suppressing his excitement, he settled Yue Wuhuan in the side hall of his own sleeping quarters and personally handled everything. First, he carefully poured spiritual medicine down his throat with a crane-beak pot, rekindling his life force. Then he changed into white robes, put on a homemade mask, found a pair of exceptionally thin beast-hide gloves, and sterilized them. Using scissors, he gently cut away the gauze robe and feathered skirt stuck to Yue Wuhuan by blood, rinsed the wounds, sutured them with ultrafine heavenly-silkworm thread, removed the ankle shackles, and treated the injuries.

Song Qingshi's movements were extraordinarily gentle and extraordinarily quick; he barely touched any skin at all. Yet Yue Wuhuan's body was extremely sensitive. He gave a few soft, involuntary moans as he twitched, then drowsily fell asleep again. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to collect blood samples for analysis and used divine sense to give him a full-body scan. Even with his good temper, Song Qingshi could not help cursing those beasts under his breath when he saw Yue Wuhuan's utterly ruined dantian and meridians. He began considering how to explain the situation when Yue Wuhuan woke.

Song Qingshi was not good at talking to strangers. He could manage when discussing his specialty, but casual conversation often made his thoughts leap about and his words fail to convey what he meant. For example, everyone once watched a popular idol-boy-group survival show together and argued over who the "male god" was.

He had sincerely answered that it was Asclepius, the god of medicine...

To this day, Song Qingshi had not understood why everyone said he had killed the conversation.

He thought hard for a long time, then recalled that, before his ALS had become so serious, he had interned at a hospital. Knowing his junior brother had social anxiety and would stammer himself speechless when explaining a patient's condition, his senior had specially taught him, "Try to strip away all emotion and regard yourself as a medical machine. First write out the detailed case history and treatment plan, then recite it with a smile, and finish with a comforting line." Having acquired this secret technique, Song Qingshi practiced many times before the body donor, and at last he was no longer nervous when facing patients.

A hospital was a place for treating illness; Medicine King Valley was also a place for treating illness. What was the difference?

After his sudden realization, Song Qingshi immediately replaced Yue Wuhuan's bed and bedding with the white kind commonly used in hospitals, ordered the medicine servants to rush out several sets of patient clothes, changed him into them himself, tied a red wristband denoting critical condition around his wrist, and hung signs reading "Special-Level Care" and "Care Instructions" at the head of the bed. In an instant, it felt as though he had returned to the hospital, and his heart stopped panicking.

He did not trust the medicine servants' nursing skills, so he took on the nurse's duties himself. Careful and conscientious, unafraid of dirt or exhaustion, he wiped Yue Wuhuan's body and washed his face countless times each day, gave him medicine and water, even changed the mattress and bedding and dealt with every sort of filth.

Yue Wuhuan woke three days later. Groggy, he did not know where he was. He stared blankly for a long while at the white gauze canopy over the bed, then finally realized that he was still alive and that his body felt looser and lighter than it had in a very long time.

He closed his eyes and dimly recalled the faint medicinal fragrance that had lingered under his nose in his dreams, and those hands that had gently removed all his restraints. Drawing a deep breath, he found that he did not quite want to wake and face that endless nightmare again.

After an unknown length of time, Yue Wuhuan abruptly opened his eyes, remembering where he had smelled that medicinal fragrance. He slowly turned his head toward the round table beside him. Immortal Venerable Yaowang was intently making corrections over and over on sheets covered in cursive writing, his brows furrowed and expression grave, as if contemplating something unpleasant. A familiar divine-sense bead lay on the silver tray beside him. Clearly, he had been given to another guest to be played with.

Yue Wuhuan's phoenix eyes narrowed. All the rumors of Immortal Venerable Yaowang's bizarre, cruel conduct rose in his mind. But under the divine-sense bead's control, whether he was afraid or willing meant nothing, and his ruined body had long ceased to be worth cherishing. He drew a breath, gritted his teeth, and struggled out of bed. A stabbing pain shot through his shoulder, leaving him dizzy and seeing stars; he fell straight down. Song Qingshi was completely absorbed in his research and only noticed the patient had woken when he heard the noise. Afraid Yue Wuhuan would tear open his wounds by moving about, he hurriedly scolded him in a stern voice, "Get back into bed immediately! You are not allowed to get down for ten days!"

This was a trick the head nurse at the hospital had taught him: being fiercer with patients who refused to follow medical orders worked better.

"Ten days?" Yue Wuhuan was stunned. He could not help looking Song Qingshi up and down. The more he looked, the more deceptive the man's appearance seemed. He had entertained guests for years and was well versed in such affairs, yet even he could not tell that this man was capable of such intensity in bed...

Seeing him stand there dumbly, Song Qingshi set down his pen, walked over, and picked him up himself.

Yue Wuhuan hardened his heart and gently looped his arms around Song Qingshi's neck. His burning fingertips touched cool skin, as smooth and fine as cold jade. The clear, clean scent of medicine wound tenderly around him, just as it had in his dream. Yue Wuhuan could not help losing himself for a moment. Inwardly mocking himself for still not having learned better, he resumed his usual manner and breathed suggestively, "I hope Immortal Venerable will show this slave mercy..."

"Don't worry. I will." Song Qingshi carefully placed him back in bed, then pulled over the quilt and tucked him in tightly. With grave earnestness, he instructed, "The medicine valley is damp and cold. You have a mortal body; be careful not to catch a chill. Keep the quilt over you. Do not leave your hands or feet outside, and do not kick the covers off."

Yue Wuhuan had never encountered this sort of thing in bed and was rather bewildered.

"You are a patient now. Let me explain your condition." Song Qingshi returned to the table, picked up the stack of written pages, nervously pushed at the nonexistent glasses on the bridge of his nose, and recited with a smile, his tone formulaic and his speech rapid. "Patient Yue Wuhuan has three lacerations from the right shoulder to the chest, measuring eighteen, fourteen, and twelve centimeters respectively; a fracture of the right shoulder bone; and a ruptured suprascapular artery. There are contusions on the skin of the right elbow; contusions of the skin tissue on both wrists; abrasions on both knees; soft-tissue abrasions on both ankles; a laceration of the gluteal skin and soft tissue; signs of drug abuse internally; and a possible drug dependency. Do you understand?"

Yue Wuhuan felt that every part of his stiff smile carried an eerie quality. The more he thought, the more tangled his thoughts became. He nodded and pretended to understand.

"Good, then." Song Qingshi felt that what he had said was both detailed and easy to understand, so he began reciting the preliminary treatment plan. "Your dantian and meridians have been destroyed, and your body is seriously damaged. Powerful medicine is unsuitable, so you cannot take Spring Return Pills, Qi-Gathering Powder, Myriad Things Pills, or Bone-Regrowth Pills. You must first be treated with mortal medicines, then recover through a medicinal bath of Six-Meridian Restoration Decoction, and afterward take Ascending Dragon Pills and Nine-Turn Blood Lotus Pills."

At last, Yue Wuhuan understood. Spring Return Pills, Qi-Gathering Powder, and Bone-Regrowth Pills were common immortal medicines, and he had taken them when badly wounded before.

Myriad Things Pills and Ascending Dragon Pills were worth a fortune. He had heard that the master of Biyu Tower had used them on his beloved treasure.

He did not know what Six-Meridian Restoration Decoction was, but the Nine-Turn Blood Lotus Pill was an immortal-realm treasure, made from a ten-thousand-year blood lotus. There were only nine in the world, and most had vanished without a trace. He only knew that the master of Xuanji Palace had taken one and broken through to Spirit Severing; that the fortress lord of Piaoxue Fortress had turned against his dao companion over it in a secret realm, murdering his wife to seize the treasure; and that one had appeared at an auction at the Curiosities Pavilion, where the master of Langya Pavilion in the Eastern Sea had bought it for several hundred thousand high-grade spirit stones. Jin Feiren had been unable to attend that auction for some reason. He had been devastated, calling it the lifelong regret he never stopped lamenting.

To put it in mortal terms, it was like someone rescuing a beggar they did not know at the roadside, promising them fine clothes and exquisite food, a golden house and jade horses, wealth beyond measure—and finally saying they would give them the imperial seal and the entire realm. Anyone who believed such a crude scam was a fool.

Yue Wuhuan smiled, his heart cold. He was certain Song Qingshi was merely toying with him.

He had met many people like this before: hypocrites who offered sweet talk and put on compassionate airs, only wanting to coax a slave into playing at mutual consent and vows of eternal love. In the end, they only craved his filthy body.

Song Qingshi recited the final closing line. "Don't worry. As long as you follow medical orders and cooperate with treatment, your illness will get better."

"All right." A touch of seduction appeared in Yue Wuhuan's phoenix eyes as he answered in a languid voice, "This slave will obey Immortal Venerable in everything..."

"Almost forgot." Looking into his eyes, Song Qingshi suddenly remembered something. He put the beast-hide gloves back on, picked up a night-luminous pearl the size of a goose egg set in a strange long cylindrical lampshade, then sat at the bedside, bent over Yue Wuhuan, and earnestly instructed, "This may be a little uncomfortable. Please endure it."

Yue Wuhuan gave a self-mocking smile, put on a look of desire in his phoenix eyes, and relaxed his body to await another round of play.

Song Qingshi reached out, pried open his eyes, and shone the night-luminous pearl inside. After observing carefully for a long while, he muttered, "I can't see any external problem with the lacrimal secretory system. I'll still need to perform a dye test..."

Yue Wuhuan: "???"