There are a hundred professions in the world, each with its own specialization. Qin Guan used the name of a physician to perform the duties of a coroner. Ordinary people might be fooled, but facing the keen and discerning Yan Chi, Qin Guan dared not be careless in the slightest.
“Case deduction?” Qin Guan’s tone was puzzled. “What is that?”
Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, her fair, jade-like face a picture of confusion. Yan Chi watched her, his phoenix eyes narrowing. “If not for your intervention yesterday, how could the Prefect have found the culprit so quickly?”
Qin Guan seemed to realize something and looked up at Yan Chi, her clear eyes bright and transparent. “I don’t know what case deduction is. I merely spoke of what I saw based on my medical knowledge and then made some conjectures.” She blinked. “Isn’t this something any ordinary person could do?”
“Any ordinary person could do it?” Yan Chi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then why couldn’t the coroner at the prefectural office?”
Qin Guan lowered her gaze, her cool fingertips brushing over the golden-brown skin of Yan Chi’s body, carefully cleaning the bloodied wound. “Coroner Xu is still young and likely lacks proper guidance. With unrefined skills, it’s natural he couldn’t accomplish much.”
A faint glint flashed in Yan Chi’s eyes. “I wasn’t aware that other physicians casually dissect bodies or possess such deep understanding of wounds on the deceased that they can identify the weapon at a glance.”
Qin Guan set aside the bloodied cloth and applied the prepared hemostatic ointment to Yan Chi’s fresh wound. “My father had some modest renown. His collection of books was extensive, and among them was a miscellaneous volume authored by Hua Ci, a renowned physician of the previous dynasty.”
“The book focused on external injuries, detailing not only how to treat them but also documenting one hundred and eight types of wounds he had encountered. At the end, it listed thirty-six manners of death—illness, sudden death, drowning, hanging, falling… each described in detail. Among these thirty-six, it further specified under what circumstances a person could still be saved and under what circumstances they were beyond help. Naturally, for those that could be saved, it also provided treatment methods.”
Pausing slightly, Qin Guan’s tone grew solemn. “This book was entirely different from other medical texts, forging a unique path. In the context of criminal justice, it could serve as a model for study. Because of this, the book never gained widespread circulation in its time. My father was fortunate enough to be acquainted with a descendant of the Hua family and thus obtained it. I’ve benefited greatly from reading it.”
Hua Ci’s reputation was real, and he had indeed authored numerous medical texts revered as treasures by later generations. Qin Guan was certain that Yan Chi, a man who had spent his life on the battlefield, would not be well-versed in medical literature.
The answer sounded flawless, yet Yan Chi chuckled lightly.
“In Shen Yi’s Record of Wrongfully Accused Cases Corrected by the Court of Revision , aside from documenting the techniques of coroners in dissection and case deduction, it also recorded his fifteen years of experience as an official, detailing how to judge whether a suspect was lying based on their demeanor and behavior.”
Qin Guan didn’t understand why he mentioned this. When she looked up, Yan Chi was smiling at her. “A person who knows how to detect lies in others can naturally avoid those same tells when lying themselves. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Qin Guan’s spine stiffened slightly, but she shook her head. “Not necessarily. Habits can be cultivated over time, but it’s extremely difficult to change one’s instincts. For example, right now, Your Highness speaks and laughs as if unharmed, yet your face is pale, your lips bluish, and your forehead damp with cold sweat. These instinctive reactions still betray the pain you’re enduring.”Yan Chi gazed into Qin Guan's clear, deer-like eyes, nearly moved by her composed and unruffled demeanor. Yet, deep down, he remained skeptical. Having dominated battlefields, conquered cities, and strategized both within and beyond the court, he found himself at a standstill before this young girl of tender years. He withdrew his gaze, but a keen interest flickered in his eyes.
Though the best military strategies avoid direct conflict, he had never hesitated to engage in fierce battles when necessary. This time, however, he was willing to retreat to advance.
Unaware of Yan Chi's schemes, Qin Guan sighed inwardly, relieved to have passed this hurdle.
"From now on, do not mention Shen Yi in front of others," Yan Chi suddenly spoke, his tone cold.
Qin Guan's hand paused, her eyes darkening, but her voice remained calm as she asked, "Why is that?"
Yan Chi glanced at her. Slender in stature, she barely reached his height even when he was seated. Leaning forward with her head bowed, he could see the graceful curve of her swan-like neck. After a brief hesitation, he spoke words he shouldn't have: "Shen Yi is implicated in a major case in the capital and has been executed as a criminal."
A sharp pain pierced Qin Guan's heart, her throat tightening, yet her tone feigned innocent confusion. "I’ve heard whispers of this, but... the common folk say Lord Shen was a just and upright official. What crime did he commit?"
Yan Chi frowned. "This case involves imperial princes and consorts—it's a forbidden topic in the capital. Though we're in Jinzhou now, it's best not to inquire further. Just remember my warning."
A lump of iron seemed to lodge in Qin Guan's chest, but she nodded hastily. "Of course... matters of the imperial court are not for me to discuss recklessly."
"The imperial court?" Yan Chi scoffed, his derision evident, but he said no more.
Knowing she wouldn’t glean details from Yan Chi, Qin Guan dropped the subject and focused on the severe wound on his back. She had cleaned the blood, but the injury, long neglected and repeatedly reopened, had festered. To heal it, the decayed flesh had to be removed.
"Your Highness, the wound on your back is severe, and the decay is extensive. I fear—"
"I know. Proceed as you must."
Having fought countless battles, Yan Chi was no stranger to injuries—his back bore three scars already. Qin Guan nodded, but her gaze lingered on the tray beside her, stocked with supplies but lacking a blade.
"Did you not bring the Cold Moon I gave you?"
Yan Chi's voice carried a sharp edge, startling Qin Guan. Unclear why he was displeased, she hurriedly replied, "Of course I brought it. But the Cold Moon belongs to Your Highness—"
"I gave it to you for medical use. What are you waiting for?"
His tone softened slightly, but the demand remained firm. Qin Guan had intended to return the blade to him, but his words left no room for refusal.
Drawing Cold Moon from her sleeve, she had used it once before and now handled it with ease. After sterilizing it with alcohol, she picked up a vial of anesthetic. "Your Highness, please take two pills—"
Yan Chi turned, frowning at the medicine in her hand. "I don’t need that."
The procedure would be agonizing—slowly carving away rotten flesh, blood flowing freely. Qin Guan had worried Yan Chi might faint from the pain, but his stern expression brooked no argument. Reluctantly, she set the anesthetic aside.Qin Guan lowered her head, swiftly slicing down with Cold Moon in hand. The blade, gleaming with a cold light, made a precise cut on the festering wound. Soon, fresh blood trickled down Yan Chi's spine.
Yan Chi kept his back straight, not uttering a sound, though beads of cold sweat rolled down his temples.
The room was so quiet that only their breathing could be heard. Just as Qin Guan thought Yan Chi would remain silent despite the unbearable pain, he suddenly spoke in a deep, somber voice.
"The Cold Plains of Shuoxi stretch for thousands of miles. Once war breaks out, we often have to leave camp for months, embarking on long marches with scarce medical supplies. If one grows accustomed to using anesthetic, they won’t be able to endure injuries when they occur. That’s why I’ve never used such things on my wounds."
Qin Guan’s lashes trembled upon hearing this, and a surge of warmth rose in her chest. She had never been to the border battlefields, nor did she truly understand the horrors of war. Yet just listening to this, she could sense the hardships of Shuoxi. Yan Chi was only twenty-two years old. Most noble sons of his status lived in luxury, inseparable from the wealth and splendor of the capital. Yet he alone had fought in Shuoxi for twelve years.
This tough body, so young, was already riddled with scars, a sight too gruesome to behold. It was often said that one’s body, hair, and skin were gifts from one’s parents and should not be lightly harmed. If his mother saw his wounds, she would surely be heartbroken.
Qin Guan clenched her teeth, forcibly pushing aside the grief stirred by the mention of her father’s case. Her gaze sharpened, and her hands moved even more deftly. Holding her breath, her fingers worked swiftly. Even so, by the time she finished cleaning all the festering wounds, the thin sweat on Yan Chi’s forehead had gathered into droplets. Qin Guan quickly applied the hemostatic ointment, her eyes darkening as she noticed the tightly clenched fists at his sides.
"Your Highness, this wound is severe. For the next month, it must not come into contact with water, nor should you engage in martial arts. If the wound reopens, you’ll have to endure the same pain again. Moreover, the injury is deep enough to reach the bone. If it festers again, it could easily affect your internal organs."
Yan Chi looked at Qin Guan. Though his face was deathly pale and drenched in sweat, his gaze remained deep and clear, as if unmoved by her words.
Qin Guan frowned, realizing that someone like Yan Chi, accustomed to injuries, likely no longer feared them. She sternly added, "If Your Highness is left with lasting damage, you may never return to the battlefield!"
Yan Chi watched Qin Guan’s serious expression, and gradually, his eyes brightened like a crescent moon slowly emerging from the depths of the sea, exuding a mesmerizing tenderness. After a moment, the corners of his lips curved into a smile. "What if I refuse?"
Qin Guan’s frown deepened. She had studied medicine for years. Though she had never opened her own practice, she had assisted her master in treating many patients. All of them had followed medical advice diligently—none had been so arrogant and disrespectful!
Annoyed, she retorted, "If Your Highness refuses, then don’t ask Qin Guan to treat your wounds again!"
The corners of Yan Chi’s lips lifted higher, and then, despite his sweat-drenched face, he actually laughed aloud. "Then from now on, I’ll entrust my wounds to Ninth Miss."
Qin Guan was taken aback, not yet comprehending his words, when Yan Chi continued, "Of course, I won’t let you treat me for nothing. Gold and silver would be too crude. Here’s something more fitting as your fee."
Qin Guan stared into Yan Chi’s brilliantly shining eyes. With a glance, Bai Feng, who had been waiting outside, entered holding a black sandalwood box. Qin Guan studied the box, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease...
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