Moxun could hardly tear her eyes away from the Imperial Preceptor.
Only one thought echoed in her mind: He’s gorgeous. I want him.
Hong Chuan stepped forward, his eyes crinkling with a gentle smile as he addressed the red-robed Imperial Preceptor. "He’an, thank you for coming to meet me."
The Imperial Preceptor gave a slight nod.
He then retrieved an embroidered money pouch, glanced at Moxun, and handed it to her. "For your trouble."
Moxun’s nose twitched subtly.
A faint fragrance lingered in the air—something crisp and cool, like snow-dusted pine. Her heart fluttered with delight. Not only is he stunning, but he smells divine too.
And his voice—
Perfect.
He was everything she’d ever dreamed of, as if the heavens had crafted him just for her.
Moxun had always been bold and unrestrained, unshackled by worldly conventions. Today, she’d fallen for the Imperial Preceptor of the Yue Kingdom at first sight, and she was determined to make him hers.
She accepted the embroidered pouch with a grin. "Healing the sick is a healer’s duty—but may I ask, what is your name, Imperial Preceptor?"
As she took the pouch, she deliberately let her fingertips brush against his palm—a featherlight graze, enough to send a shiver of anticipation.
The Imperial Preceptor showed no reaction, his expression as serene as still water. His dark eyes locked onto hers as he replied evenly, "My surname is Zhang. Zhang He’an."
Moxun rolled the name Zhang He’an over in her mind.
Exquisite.
Like a crane—aloft, untouchable, transcendent.
She leaned in with a playful smile. "Imperial Preceptor, are you married? How old are you?"
Zhang He’an remained silent.
Hong Chuan coughed pointedly, breaking the tension. "It’s getting late. I must leave the Valley of Medicine now. Thank you, Physician Moxun, for your care these past days."
Moxun beamed, sauntering up to Hong Chuan and casually flicking her sleeve—releasing an odorless, invisible powder. "The Valley of Medicine operates on payment, not sentiment. Gold buys treatment, nothing more."
Hong Chuan nodded. "Fair enou—"
Before he could finish, his face twisted, and he collapsed in a dead faint.
His guard gasped, rushing to lift him. "My lord! My lord—Physician Moxun, what’s wrong with him?"
Moxun feigned alarm, quickly checking Hong Chuan’s pulse before frowning. "Ah, the residual poison in his system hasn’t been fully purged. Carry him back to the Valley—I’ll have my master treat him."
The guard, unsuspecting, hurried off with his unconscious lord.
Moxun turned to Zhang He’an, her smile sly. "Imperial Preceptor, the mountain winds are harsh. Why not stay in the Valley of Medicine for a few days?"
Zhang He’an inclined his head. "Very well."
---
Valley of Medicine.
The sun shone bright and warm.
After a brief treatment, Hong Chuan awoke. Moxun sat at his bedside, feigning concern. "You’re riddled with old wounds and lingering toxins. Life outside must be brutal. The Valley is secluded—you’re welcome to stay as long as you need."
Hong Chuan thought of the ruthless infighting in the Yue Kingdom’s royal court. If he returned now, his brothers would hunt him down without mercy.
Hiding here was the safest choice.
Still, he frowned. "Physician Moxun, the Valley’s rules forbid patients from staying beyond a month—"
Moxun waved a hand. "Rules bend for the right people. I’ll have my master perform acupuncture to strengthen your meridians, then soak you in medicinal baths to build resistance. Future poisons won’t touch you."
Hong Chuan bowed deeply. "Your kindness is unforgettable. If fortune ever favors me, I’ll repay you a thousandfold."
Moxun grinned, swiftly changing the subject. "Tell me—how old is the Imperial Preceptor? Is he betrothed? Any sweethearts?"
Hong Chuan blinked, then sighed in realization. "He’an and I are close, yet I don’t know his age. He’s unwed, but as for love interests… that, I can’t say."
Moxun’s eyes gleamed.
Unmarried. Perfect.
After a few hollow pleasantries, she left to fetch her master for Hong Chuan’s treatment.
Meanwhile, she perched by the wooden window of the herb house, shamelessly admiring Zhang He’an as he sipped tea beneath an ancient tree.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled gold over his crimson robes, making him glow like a deity.
Moxun propped her chin on her hands, drinking him in.
"His hair—so dark."
"That nose—so sharp."
"And his lips… I wonder how they’d feel against mine."
"Even the way he drinks tea is elegant. Imperial Preceptors really are a breed apart."
The more she looked, the more she wanted him.
Before long, her master entered, tossing aside his silver needles and smacking Moxun’s head.
"Ow! Master, why hit me?" she yelped, rubbing her skull.
The old physician scowled. "Hong Chuan was fine. Why drag him back? Now I’ve had to waste energy fortifying his body as compensation."
Moxun pointed at Zhang He’an in the courtyard. "Master, I want him. The moment I saw him, I knew."
The old man sighed, studying Zhang He’an through narrowed eyes. After a long pause, he shook his head. "That man… he’s no ordinary man. To rise as the Yue Kingdom’s Imperial Preceptor so young? He’s a force unto himself."
Moxun shrugged. "Dragon or not, I’ll tame him."
Her master huffed. "Where did you learn such brazenness? Other girls your age at least pretend to be demure!"
"Life’s too short for pretense," Moxun declared. "When I want something, I seize it—no regrets, no retreat."
She wanted the Imperial Preceptor.
And she would have him.
The old man groaned. "Forced fruit is never sweet!"
Moxun smirked. "I don’t care if it’s sweet—I’ll bite first and decide later. Besides, Master, think of the benefits! With my skills, I’ll be safe. And when I bear children, the Valley’s legacy continues. You’ll have grandchildren to dote on!"
The old physician did long for grandchildren.
Grumbling, he finally relented.
With her master’s tacit approval, Moxun launched her campaign.
Hong Chuan, "ailing," remained in the Valley. And where Hong Chuan stayed, so did his dear friend, the Imperial Preceptor.
Moxun was no blushing maiden. That very afternoon, she swaggered up to Zhang He’an with a flask of medicinal wine.
"Imperial Preceptor," she purred, plopping down across from him. "Let’s be friends?"
Zhang He’an didn’t react.
Undeterred, Moxun rested her chin on her hands. "Rumor says you’re unwed. What a coincidence—so am I. How about we marry tonight?"
Zhang He’an’s dark eyes gleamed, unreadable.
He gazed at Moxun before him, memories of the past flooding his mind—her face overlapping with that of a woman from long ago. Zhang He'an spoke slowly, "You should behave with dignity, miss."
Moxun retorted, "Dignity? I’m not heavy at all. If the Imperial Preceptor were to hold me, he’d know my weight for himself."
Zhang He'an’s fingers paused as he sipped his tea.
Moxun chattered endlessly, her words pouring out like a bubbling stream, while Zhang He'an remained unmoved, as serene and distant as the moon over the mountains.
But Moxun refused to give up.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way—as long as she didn’t quit. For the next month, she tirelessly pursued Zhang He'an.
She picked the most beautiful flowers from the mountains and placed them in a vase in his room. "The Imperial Preceptor is even more striking than these blossoms," she declared.
She painted his portrait and presented it to him with a bright smile. "What do you think of my artistic skills?"
One night, pretending to be drunk, she barged into his chamber. "Ah, such a fine evening—why don’t we make it our wedding night?"
A month passed, and she still hadn’t won him over.
Moxun gritted her teeth.
Zhang He'an was infuriatingly difficult. She nearly considered drugging him and dragging him to bed to have her way.
But before she could act on this bold idea, the old Medicine King passed away.
It was an ordinary afternoon. After lunch, the old Medicine King had gone to his usual spot—a wicker chair outside the herb garden—to bask in the sun. He closed his eyes for a nap, but when Moxun went to wake him, he had already stopped breathing.
Ninety-eight years old, free of illness or pain, without a final word—he had departed peacefully.
Moxun was heartbroken and filled with regret.
She bid farewell to Hong Chuan and Zhang He'an as they left the Medicine King’s Valley, then buried the old Medicine King alone.
For a year, she stayed in the valley, keeping vigil for him. Having grown up in seclusion, the old Medicine King had been her only family. After his death, Moxun felt lost, unsure of what to do next.
She decided to see the world.
Burning paper offerings at the old Medicine King’s grave, she murmured, "Master, your disciple is going out for a while. I’ll visit often. When I grow old, I’ll return to the valley to live in seclusion and raise a child to carry on your legacy."
After kowtowing three times, she shouldered her pack and descended the mountain.
Her first stop was the capital of the Yue Kingdom.
The royal court was in chaos—the old emperor’s dozen sons vied for the throne, while the empress and concubines schemed ruthlessly in the rear palace. To consolidate his power, the emperor launched an invasion against Qing State.
Amidst internal strife and external war, Moxun had no interest in politics. Disguised as a wandering physician, she spent her nights drinking on a painted boat by the lake. One evening, drunk and unsteady, she toppled into the water.
When she awoke, she found herself in a lavish bedroom, her male attire replaced with a light sleeping robe, her black hair cascading loosely over her shoulders.
Pressing her temples, she struggled to recall the previous night—until the door creaked open, and a figure in deep red robes, like drifting clouds, entered. Zhang He'an’s striking face came into view.
He handed her a bowl of medicine. "Drink this. Don’t fall ill."
A spark ignited in Moxun’s mind.
One thought blazed through her—
Zhang He'an likes me!
He absolutely does!
Instead of taking the bowl, she grinned and leaned in, playfully tracing his sharp jawline. "Imperial Preceptor, did you change my clothes?"
Zhang He'an lowered his gaze and nodded. "Yes."
Moxun feigned distress. "Ah, I was a pure maiden, untouched by men. Now that you’ve seen everything, how can I face the world? You must take responsibility."
Zhang He'an replied, "Alright."
Moxun’s mouth fell open. "You… you said alright?"
Zhang He'an nodded again. "Yes."
Her heart soared, joy blooming like flowers in spring—until darkness swallowed her vision, and she fainted onto the bed.
When she woke again, she swiftly diagnosed herself, prescribed medicine, and drank her own remedy, finally relaxing.
A mere cold—she trusted no one but herself to treat it.
She stayed in Zhang He'an’s estate, spending her days eating, sleeping, and teasing him, her life sweet as honey. Having lost the old Medicine King, she felt she had found a new home.
Soon, Zhang He'an arranged their wedding.
On their wedding night, he lifted the red veil and studied her face. "A-Xun," he murmured, "remember—you were the one who provoked me first."
Moxun wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yes, yes, it was me! Now hurry up—if you’re not up to it, don’t worry. I’m a physician; I can cure any… mmm—"
The night was fleeting.
Dawn found the red candles still burning.
The next afternoon, Moxun sat up wincing, rubbing her sore waist, already plotting to slip Zhang He'an some medicine.
Too much stamina—this needed treatment!
By and large, married life was blissful.
As Imperial Preceptor, Zhang He'an stayed clear of court factions, untouched by royal intrigue. Moxun opened a clinic in the capital, healing the sick by day and enjoying her husband by night. Peace reigned.
She thought this happiness would last forever.
Until one evening, as she returned home, she found a veiled woman kneeling at the estate gates, weeping and begging to see the Imperial Preceptor.
Moxun approached. "Why do you seek him?"
The woman lifted her gaze—and froze at the sight of Moxun’s face. "You… you haven’t forgotten him either," she sobbed. "We’re the same."
Moxun frowned. "What do you mean?"
The woman removed her veil, revealing delicate features—strikingly similar to Moxun’s.
Her mind reeled. Something was wrong.
She brought the woman inside.
Over tea, the stranger—Li Zhi—shared her story.
Three years ago, in Yue Kingdom’s Yu County, Zhang He'an had spotted her at a fabric shop and taken her to the Astrology Bureau. She’d thought he fancied her, but three days later, he sent her home with a hundred taels of silver.
Heartbroken, she yearned to see him again—even as a maid. On her journey to the capital, she’d seen another girl, resembling her, being escorted to his estate.
Li Zhi wept. "He must be searching for someone who looks like us. Please… let him take pity on me. I have nowhere else to go."
She touched her own face. "If he loved her… perhaps he’ll care for me too."
After saying this, Li Zhi looked at Moxun with sympathy: "Miss, you haven't been in the Grand Preceptor's residence for long, have you? Ah, within three days, you'll be sent away too."
Moxun felt as if struck by lightning.
Her head buzzed, as though she had plunged into hell.
With unsteady steps, Moxun rushed to the secret chamber in Zhang He'an's study. She knew there was a hidden room there—once, she had accidentally triggered the mechanism and, out of curiosity, tried to enter, only to be stopped by Zhang He'an.
Zhang He'an had told her that the chamber held vital secrets of the Yue Kingdom.
At the time, Moxun was utterly infatuated with him and wouldn’t dream of causing him trouble, so she promised never to go inside.
This time, however, Moxun opened the study’s hidden chamber.
The chamber lay underground, its passage lined with luminous pearls from Southern Chu, illuminating the corridor as bright as day. She walked to the very end, where a large room awaited.
The room was decorated in Southern Chu style—pearls embedded in the walls, rubies and silk on the desk, all imported from Southern Chu. Hanging on the wall was a portrait.
The portrait depicted a striking young woman in military attire, riding a horse, radiant as the sun.
Moxun looked exactly like her.