Time flew by, and a century passed in the blink of an eye. The mighty Yangtze River flowed eastward, its waves washing away heroes as eras changed. The Empress of Southern Chu had long become a vivid stroke in the annals of history.
A hundred years later, in the Valley of Medicinal Herbs of the Yue Kingdom.
The Valley of Medicinal Herbs was somewhat renowned in the Yue Kingdom, once home to a famed physician who secluded himself there. Now, the master of the valley was a young girl.
Under the warm spring sun, the valley brimmed with life. The white-haired old herbalist squinted, reclining on a rattan chair, basking contentedly in the sunlight.
Until a voice called out from nearby, "Old man, the medicine’s ready!"
The old herbalist snapped his eyes open and grumbled, "What 'old man'? How many times must I tell you—call me Master!"
Moxun handed him the brewed medicine. "Drink up, Master!"
The old herbalist sniffed the bowl, muttering, "Dried ginger, white atractylodes, ginseng, licorice... You didn’t mix the wrong herbs this time. Progress."
Moxun dragged over another rattan chair and lay down to sunbathe. She drawled lazily, "Master, you can’t always prescribe medicine based on the same old formulas. One must learn till old age—even prescriptions should innovate and improve. Technology needs innovation."
The old herbalist looked baffled. "What’s 'technology'?"
Moxun was equally confused.
She scratched her head. "Technology... must be some kind of skill among the three hundred and sixty trades."
Strangely enough, Moxun often blurted out peculiar words like "technology," "dumbass," or "blue thin mushroom"...
After much pondering and finding no explanation, she simply stopped dwelling on it.
The old herbalist stroked his snow-white beard. "I’m already ninety-eight, too old for this. The Valley of Medicinal Herbs will have to be passed to you—and you’re no spring chicken either. It’s time to settle down. Don’t end up like me, alone for half my life, only picking you up in my eighties."
Moxun was an orphan.
Over a decade ago, the old herbalist had returned from gathering herbs and spotted a swaddled bundle at the valley’s entrance.
Inside was a gravely ill baby girl, her breath faint. A note beside her explained that the infant had been born with cyanotic limbs and incurable ailments. Her family, unwilling to raise her, had left her at the valley’s entrance, hoping a kind soul would take her in.
The old herbalist adopted the girl and cured her ailments.
He named her Moxun.
From childhood, Moxun displayed an extraordinary talent for learning, mastering everything with ease. The old herbalist was delighted and imparted all his knowledge to her.
Time flowed like water, and the infant grew into a beautiful young woman.
Moxun closed her eyes, soaking in the sunlight. "Master, it’s not that I don’t want to settle down—I’m just picky. Plenty of male patients come to our valley, but none are good-looking."
She was shallow.
She only liked handsome men.
If she ever married, Moxun would only choose the most beautiful man.
The old herbalist huffed. "Superficial! How can you choose a husband based on looks? Haven’t I told you—the more beautiful something is, the more poisonous it tends to be!"
Moxun paid no heed.
At noon, a deep bell tolled outside the valley—a sign of someone seeking medical help. Moxun walked to the entrance and found two men.
One appeared to be a guard, supporting a bloodied young man. Seeing Moxun, the guard pleaded, "Please, miss, show mercy and save my master."
Moxun’s gaze swept over the injured man.
His robes were made of brocade, a sign of nobility.
The Yue Kingdom was now fraught with peril. The aging emperor had over a dozen sons, all grown and locked in a ruthless struggle for the throne. From court to commoners, unease hung thick in the air.
Suspecting he might be from the royal family, Moxun demanded an exorbitant fee. "Payment will be one ingot of gold."
The guard gritted his teeth. "Fine! If you can save my master, not just one ingot—a hundred taels of gold is yours."
Only then did Moxun open the valley gates and let the pair in. The brocade-clad man’s injuries were severe. She cut away his bloodied clothes, revealing dozens of wounds, old and new overlapping.
Moxun clicked her tongue. "How pitiful. Probably been hunted since childhood."
That he’d survived this long spoke of sheer luck.
With her exceptional skills, Moxun spent half a month healing his wounds. She even generously dosed him with antidotes, flushing out years of accumulated toxins.
As his wounds scabbed over, he shaved his beard and donned clean robes—revealing a strikingly handsome face, with sharp brows and starry eyes, an air of nobility impossible to conceal.
He introduced himself as "Hong Chuan," pursued by his family and forced to flee to the valley.
Moxun studied him for a long moment, inwardly sighing. Not bad-looking, but not her type.
She handed him the medicine. "Brother Hong Chuan, our valley has a rule—patients can’t stay longer than a month. You leave tomorrow. Oh, and don’t forget the payment. One ingot of gold."
The Valley of Medicinal Herbs stayed neutral, treating ailments but never meddling in the Yue Kingdom’s power struggles.
To avoid trouble, patients had to leave within a month.
Hong Chuan smiled. "Rest assured, miss. Tomorrow, my dear friend will bring tenfold the payment and deliver it to you in person."
...
The next morning.
Hong Chuan and his guard packed up, and Moxun led them along the winding mountain path to the valley’s entrance.
Dawn broke, mist curling over the wilderness. Moxun waited at the entrance for what felt like an eternity, but Hong Chuan’s friend was nowhere in sight.
She quietly pulled out a vial of poison.
If these two dared to skip payment, she’d poison them on the spot and turn them into fertilizer for the valley’s plants.
The sun peeked over the horizon, golden light spilling across the land. Just as Moxun pondered how to dispose of the bodies, the guard suddenly exclaimed, "Master, the State Preceptor has arrived."
Moxun’s brow lifted at the keyword—State Preceptor.
The Yue Kingdom’s State Preceptor?
Living secluded in the valley, she knew little of court affairs, only that the State Preceptor was skilled in divination and highly favored by the old emperor.
Curious, she craned her neck to catch a glimpse of him.
A modest carriage appeared on the horizon, drawing closer. It halted nearby, and the coachman respectfully lifted the curtain—a dark red robe unfurling like a blooming flower.
Moxun’s gaze inadvertently landed on the State Preceptor’s face.
In that instant, it was as if she had glimpsed the untouchable moon atop an icy peak, or the surging tides hidden in the abyss.
Moxun was spellbound.
She had never seen a man so breathtakingly beautiful.