Chapter 54: Shut Up

Although she had only raised it for a few days, the little fox was wholeheartedly on her side; it was a good fox.

Liu Qiu frowned and hugged the fox a little tighter.

“The Master said to keep silent about strange forces and spirits.”

“There are no demons in this world. The little fox is simply rather intelligent.”

“You—you shut up!”

Liu Qiu grew so anxious that her cheeks flushed faintly, giving her a touch of color.

Liu Huang crossed her arms and looked Liu Qiu up and down.

She truly did look like someone whose mind had been bewitched by a fox, arguing with her over a mere beast.

After a while, Liu Huang let out a cold laugh.

“I think you’re really muddled from illness. A fox is worth you talking back to me?”

Su Li swept her tail lightly across Liu Qiu’s leg and let out sticky, pitiful whimpering sounds that made her seem terribly wronged.

Liu Qiu stroked the fox’s head and stared at Liu Huang, her words sharp.

“You’re always bullying me. The little fox stands up for me. Why shouldn’t I say something about you?”

“The little fox is so well-behaved.”

“Aw!”

The fox’s cry sounded like agreement.

Liu Huang was so angry she nearly laughed.

A mere animal, yet Liu Qiu protected it like this.

She bent down, grabbed the fox by the scruff of its neck, and yanked it straight out of Liu Qiu’s arms.

Her movements were too fast for Liu Qiu to react.

She only felt her arms suddenly empty, and then heard the fox’s fierce cry by her ear.

The little fox was thrown straight out the window.

Liu Qiu’s eyes widened in alarm.

She hurriedly tried to get out of bed to look.

But Liu Huang stood in front of her.

The moment Liu Qiu rose, her arm was seized.

Liu Huang was strong; once she gripped her, Liu Qiu couldn’t break free.

Tears welled in Liu Qiu’s eyes as her fingers clenched into fists.

“How can you do this?” she demanded.

Liu Huang stared at her delicate face so close at hand, her voice low.

“Why can’t I? Liu Qiu, have you really forgotten, or are you pretending?”

“You say I always bully you. How did you treat my sister and me when we were young?”

“I didn’t make you kneel, slap you, frame you, or get Father and Mother to beat you.”

“I just took you riding, bathed you, and threw that beast outside. And that beast cost me five taels of silver.”

“Tell me, Liu Qiu, exactly how have I bullied you?”

Each sentence left Liu Qiu unable to refute her.

What the original host had done was fact.

From the sisters’ perspective, being bullied as children and then taking revenge once they grew strong was only natural.

A wave of helplessness rose in Liu Qiu’s heart.

Given such a background, she could understand why Liu Huang and Liu Feng treated her poorly.

But what did that have to do with the little fox?

She turned her head away, refusing to meet Liu Huang’s eyes.

Liu Huang sneered.

“See? You can’t even answer.”

Liu Qiu parted her lips to speak, but as her lashes fluttered, she suddenly saw snakes crawling out from the cracks in the room.

Not just one—many, many of them.

They writhed slowly toward her.

Reason told her it was fake, another hallucination.

But the sight was terrifying all the same.

“There—there are snakes,” she stammered.

Liu Huang’s eyes flickered.

It seemed her sister’s medicine had taken effect.

“Liu Qiu, where are the snakes?”

Liu Qiu turned to look at her, her breath hitching as tears streamed down.

There was no Liu Huang before her anymore—only a massive tiger’s head, jaws wide open.

She struggled frantically.

“Let—let me go!”

She knew the tiger might be Liu Huang, but knowing and not being afraid were two different things.

Her eyes brimmed with tears, her face pale as paper, her thin body trembling pitifully.

Liu Huang frowned.

“Liu Qiu!”

But Liu Qiu seemed unable to hear her, only thrashing wildly.

Seeing the enormous tiger head drawing close, she instinctively slapped at it.

“Don’t!”

Several slaps landed on Liu Huang’s face, but she had no time to care.

Something was truly wrong with Liu Qiu.

She pulled Liu Qiu into her arms and lay down with her on the bed, her voice deep.

“Liu Qiu! Look clearly at who I am!”

Her embrace was scorching hot and strong.

Liu Qiu’s vision was blocked, leaving only darkness, and the hallucinations disappeared.

She began sobbing softly, her frail cries reaching Liu Huang’s ears as her body trembled in her arms.

She had been frightened to tears.

Yet Liu Huang felt no satisfaction—only discomfort.

She held her tightly, patting her back, her palm easily feeling the sharp ridge of her spine.

Too thin.

Liu Huang exhaled.

Forget it.

Her sister’s powder worked too strongly; she wouldn’t use it again.

“You slapped me several times. I’ll make you pay me back.”

But Liu Qiu only kept crying without answering.

“Aw!”

The fox cried out, but Liu Huang ignored it, continuing to pat Liu Qiu’s back gently.

“Alright. Stop crying.”

“Do you want to look?”

Liu Qiu slowly lifted her head from Liu Huang’s chest, opening her eyes to a narrow slit.

There was no tiger head—only Liu Huang’s handsome, spirited face.

She let out a breath of relief.

The hallucination was gone again.

Liu Qiu pressed her lips together and braced her hands against Liu Huang’s shoulders.

But Liu Huang lowered her gaze and tightened her arms, locking her waist firmly.

“The moment you heard that little beast was fine, you stopped crying. You really care.”

Liu Qiu tilted her face upward, tear tracks still bright on her cheeks.

The mole at the corner of her eye, set against reddened eye rims, looked almost sensual.

“I do care,” she said hoarsely, her voice still trembling from tears, the drawn-out ending soft and tender.

Liu Huang stared at her for a long moment, then pressed a hand to the back of her head, pushing her face back into her chest.

“Stop talking. It’s irritating.”

So sticky and soft that even her ears were heating up.

The scent of medicine filled her nose.

Liu Huang couldn’t help resting her chin on Liu Qiu’s head.

“You sickly thing—you must be drugging me somehow.”

Every time she touched her, her heart raced and her body burned.

Even the slaps on her face no longer hurt.

“Aw!”

Su Li leapt onto the bed and curled behind Liu Qiu.

Hearing Liu Huang’s words, her golden eyes filled with disdain.

What nonsense was this woman spouting?

Liu Qiu was too tired even to eat—how could she have the energy to drug anyone?

Unfortunately, no one could see the fox’s humanlike expression.

Liu Qiu didn’t understand what Liu Huang meant.

After the fright, she felt exhausted.

The fox’s vigorous cry reassured her.

Once she relaxed, fatigue spread through her entire body.

Her fingers clutched Liu Huang’s clothing.

“Liu Huang, I want to rest.”

Liu Huang responded lightly, “Sleep.”

She made no move to release her.

It was unbearably hot like this, but Liu Qiu slowly closed her eyes anyway.

Forget it. She would sleep first.

Perhaps once she became a ghost, she would no longer see hallucinations.

She wasn’t particularly brave.

Being scared to tears wasn’t shameful.

“Doctor Li, we’re here, we’re here.”

Fang Lian had gone to town to fetch him.

By the time they returned, it was nearly noon.

The sun blazed overhead, sweat covering Fang Lian’s face.

Doctor Li, over sixty years old, couldn’t endure a carriage ride, so they had walked back.

“Madam Liu, slow down,” he urged.

“This is a matter of life and death—how can I go slowly?” she cried.

Doctor Li had treated the family’s eldest daughter for nearly twenty years, watching her grow.

That was why he had dragged his old body all the way to the village.

“These old arms and legs of mine can’t move fast,” he muttered, his sideburns damp with sweat.

Seeing Fang Lian so frantic, he feared the worst.

He drew a deep breath and quickened his pace.

At that moment, Liu Huang was counting Liu Qiu’s eyelashes.

Her hair was slightly curly, yet her lashes were straight—and long.

The door suddenly opened.

Liu Huang frowned and rose to look toward it.

Seeing Fang Lian and the elderly doctor, she stepped down from the bed and approached quietly.

“Mother, Sister Qiu is asleep.”

Fang Lian exhaled in relief and led the doctor to the bedside.

Liu Qiu lay on her side, her expression peaceful, clearly in deep sleep.

Fang Lian lowered her voice.

“Doctor Li, be gentle. Don’t wake her.”

“I understand.”

Unfortunately, Liu Qiu still woke.

She opened her eyes groggily and saw Fang Lian and an elderly man before her, confusion flickering across her face.

“Mother, what are you doing?”

Doctor Li cleared his throat.

“It’s good that you’re awake. It makes examining you easier.”

“Come, extend your wrist.”

Liu Qiu nodded slowly and stretched out her thin wrist.

In the original host’s memory, this doctor had treated her since childhood.

Doctor Li placed his fingers on her pulse, examining carefully.

He then checked her eyes and mouth.

“Have you coughed up blood recently?”

Liu Qiu glanced at Fang Lian’s worried expression and shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Doctor Li sighed.

“How has your body suddenly grown so weak?”

He had treated her for twenty years without ever finding the cause.

Just recently her condition had seemed stable.

Yet in less than a month, her vitality had weakened to resemble that of the dying.

He wrote a prescription for Fang Lian, his cloudy eyes filled with regret.

“Madam Liu, I truly have no way to cure her illness.”

“Each time I can only prescribe something of little use.”

“Don’t come to me next time.”

With that, he picked up his medicine box and walked out.

Fang Lian’s heart jolted.

“Doctor—what do you mean? Wait, I’ll see you back.”

Her voice trailed off.

Inside, Liu Huang narrowed her eyes at Liu Qiu.

“Did you really not cough blood, Liu Qiu?”

Liu Qiu lowered her lashes.

“No.”

Fang Lian returned shortly after; the doctor had refused her escort.

Her worry was unmistakable.

“Qiu girl, don’t hide things from us.”

Liu Qiu smiled faintly.

“Mother, I—”

Before she could finish, her chest tightened and she suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Bright red splattered across the bed’s edge like blooming crimson flowers.

It hurt the eyes to look at.

In that instant, Fang Lian understood the doctor’s words.

“Qiu girl!”

She rushed forward to support her, pain etched across her dark, weathered face.

“You child! Why hide something like vomiting blood?”

Liu Qiu hadn’t expected to cough blood in front of her.

She knew how dearly Fang Lian cherished the original host.

She hadn’t wanted to say anything.

If she simply died one day, perhaps Fang Lian wouldn’t suffer as much.

“Mother, I’m fine,” she said with a strained smile, blood bright at her lips.

Liu Huang’s fingers tightened unconsciously.

For some reason, she felt short of breath.

On the battlefield, blood had flowed like rivers; she should have been used to it.

Yet seeing just this small amount from Liu Qiu made her eyes sting.

Her heart felt unwell.

Liu Qiu had always coughed blood—during fevers, colds, or for no reason at all.

Doctors could never find the cause, yet she would remain alive afterward.

Liu Huang should have grown accustomed to it.

Even after five years apart, she shouldn’t have felt like this.

Not understanding her own thoughts, she walked outside.

Behind her came Fang Lian’s sobs.

“Qiu girl, how could you hide this from me?”

In the courtyard, Liu Huang saw Liu Feng riding in.

Now that Liu Feng had achieved high honors, admirers crowded around her; a carriage had even waited outside that morning.

She secured her horse and approached with a gentle smile.

“Huang’er, why are you standing here?”

Liu Huang looked at her steadily.

“The medicine you gave me—are you sure it won’t harm the body?”

Liu Feng lowered her lashes, her beautiful face serene.

“Has something happened to Sister Qiu?”

“She coughed blood.”

Liu Feng’s smile did not change.

“Huang’er, she’s always coughed blood. Since when have you grown so nervous?”

She patted Liu Huang’s arm lightly.

“I won’t harm Sister Qiu. As you said, I don’t hate her enough to wish her dead.”

Inside, Fang Lian wiped the blood from Liu Qiu’s lips, sighing through tears.

“Qiu girl, don’t be afraid. Your father and I will think of something.”

Doctor Li was the most skilled physician in town, yet he had told her not to return.

She couldn’t imagine where else to find someone like him.

Liu Qiu lay on the bed, bitterness rising in her heart.

Fang Lian and Liu Tieniu had treated the original host very well.

But her death was a fixed fate that could not be changed.

She only hoped they would suffer less grief.

“It’s alright, Mother. I’ve always coughed blood before.”

“But Doctor Li said you’re extremely weak. How can I not worry?”

Fang Lian tucked the blanket around her.

“I’ll have Huang girl ride to town to fetch the medicine.”

“Lie still.”

Liu Qiu nodded, watching her leave with frequent backward glances.

She sighed softly.

Partings of life and death were always painful.

Fang Lian had truly done her best for the original host, and even she, a mere transmigrator, had received some of that tenderness.

Fang Lian slung a basket over her back to find Liu Tieniu, who had gone into the mountains to gather herbs.

As she passed through the village, someone called out.

“Madam Fang!”

She stopped and turned.

Recognizing the woman, she forced a smile.

“Madam Wang, what is it?”

Madam Wang’s expression was overly ingratiating.

“Isn’t your Qiu girl in poor health?”

Fang Lian’s face darkened.

“What business is that of yours?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I came specially to tell you of a method.”

“A method?”

Madam Wang glanced around before leaning close to whisper.

“Have you heard of a wedding to ward off misfortune?”

“The grain shop owner’s son recovered that way.”

“Have a Daoist calculate someone whose birth characters match your Qiu girl’s…”

She prattled on at length.

Fang Lian listened to every word.

In the past she wouldn’t have believed such things.

But now, there was no harm in trying.

If arranging a wedding could restore Qiu girl’s health, why not?