Chapter Ninety-One: Acupuncture

Page (1/3)

Thanks to “sky_Bichen,” “Just a Glance,” “Bu Xiaojie,” and “Purple Snow, Please Stay” for the pink hearts and gifts~

------

When Wang Jue saw Wen Jing appear before him, his face flushed slightly, seemingly embarrassed about the last time she fainted at the sight of blood.

“Do you always like to sneak up on people like that, walking silently to startle them?” Wang Jue asked expressionlessly.

Wen Jing smiled faintly. “Am I the one sneaking silently, or is your mind elsewhere?”

“Are you getting married?” Wang Jue continued with the same blank expression.

Wen Jing raised an eyebrow. Why was everyone so fixated on her marriage? This was the last topic she wanted to discuss.

Seeing her remain silent, Wang Jue pressed the brush heavily on the paper, then took out a seal and stamped it firmly.

“This is for you,” he said, lifting his head, a faint smile in his eyes.

“The finest painting from the world’s greatest talent, worth every bit of the fee. Thank you, Seventeenth Lord,” Wen Jing smiled as she took the scroll.

“This is a wedding gift for Lady Qi,” Wang Jue explained carefully, his gaze fixed on Wen Jing. The slight annoyance flickering across her face didn’t escape his notice.

Wen Jing lowered her eyes and looked down at the crumpled paper balls scattered on the ground.

“If there’s no heart, why force it?” Wang Jue said softly.

He bent down to pick up a crumpled piece...

“No...” Wang Jue had barely spoken when he saw Wen Jing quickly unfold the paper ball, leaving him speechless.

On the paper was a sketch of a woman, only an outline without any facial features. Wen Jing unfolded several more, all simple contours but from different angles and poses. The last one showed two people: one sitting in a wheelchair, the other pushing it, beside a pond filled with lotus flowers and fish.

“Just some casual sketches,” Wang Jue said, looking toward the distant sunset. He sipped his tea lightly.

“Do you like me?” Wen Jing leaned in and asked.

Whoosh!

Wang Jue sprayed his tea out. Fortunately, Wen Jing was quick and dodged away early.

“Cough, cough, cough!” Wang Jue turned red from choking, coughing several times.

Wen Jing sighed. Compared to Cheng Shi, Wang Jue was probably just as sour—both had that same bitter taste.

“Today, I plan to give you acupuncture. It might hurt a bit, bear with it.”

Wang Jue nodded awkwardly, still hearing Wen Jing’s sudden bold remark echoing in his ears. How could a young unmarried lady say such shameless things?!

Wen Jing took out a square box from the chest and pulled out a silver needle, thinking of her master, Lin Bai. It had been months since they parted, yet it felt like years. This was a gift from Lin Bai, and it was the first time she had taken it out to use.

She silently recalled the methods recorded in the “Acupuncture Techniques” for treating hemiplegia—knowing which points to stimulate. Although this wasn’t her first time performing acupuncture—she had once studied under an acupuncturist at medical school and was quite familiar with the human acupoints—she hadn’t practiced much and worried about accuracy. Acupuncture required precision and careful control of strength; it could not be done carelessly.

Seeing Wen Jing’s uncertain expression, Wang Jue felt a pang of apprehension. Considering Wen Jing’s earlier bold words and behavior, maybe she really would use him as practice.

Wen Jing raised the needle, a gleam flashing in her eyes. She pressed Wang Jue’s head down: “Don’t move!”

Page (2/3)

Wang Jue dared not move. If she pierced the wrong spot, it wouldn’t just be his legs that couldn’t move; he might end up six feet under.

Wen Jing slowly inserted the needle into the Bianxing acupoint on the top of Wang Jue’s head. Seeing he showed no discomfort, she breathed a silent sigh of relief and inserted the remaining needles into the corresponding points.

Watching Wang Jue trying to stay calm, Wen Jing suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no!”

“What’s wrong?” Wang Jue’s voice trembled.

“One needle accidentally fell inside...”

“...”

Wang Jue felt his premonition confirmed—the needle had... fallen inside...

“What... what should we do?”

“It’s fine. I’ll just use a magnet to pull it out later,” Wen Jing smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. For some reason, whenever she saw Wang Jue put on that “I’m the only sober one here” act, she felt like teasing him.

A magnet... Wang Jue’s face darkened. If his legs weren’t paralyzed, he would have fled all the way back to Jinling and never come to the capital again.

Wen Jing picked up another needle and lightly tapped Wang Jue’s knee. Seeing his desperate expression, she said nothing and gently pushed the needle in.

After inserting all the needles, Wen Jing brought over a basin, placed some mugwort leaves inside, and lit them. Wisps of smoke curled up, enveloping Wang Jue completely.

Wang Jue closed his eyes. Dressed in white, surrounded by smoke, he looked like a banished immortal.

Nearby, Xiao Cui was almost enchanted, murmuring, “Seventeenth Lord is such an ethereal figure.”

Wen Jing glanced at Wang Jue. That handsome face was indeed captivating to many, just like the old Wen Qi—the moment she first saw Ji Changge, she was utterly smitten. Saving people was really just her way of finding an excuse for herself. Had the person who saved her been an ugly man, none of this would have happened.

When the smoke cleared, Wang Jue slowly opened his eyes.

“How do you feel?” Wen Jing asked.

“I feel... warm and relaxed all over,” Wang Jue said.

Wen Jing nodded. Acupuncture wasn’t something with immediate effects; she planned to treat Wang Jue every three days.

“Since there’s nothing else, I’ll be going,” Wen Jing packed up the medicine box.

“When’s your next acupuncture session?” Wang Jue asked.

Wen Jing picked up a crumpled paper and smiled, “When you finish drawing all these faces properly, I’ll come.”

Wang Jue’s face stiffened. He was truly suffering from his own folly...

Just as Wen Jing left Liyuan Garden, she saw Grand Tutor Wang and Second Young Master Wang. She thought to herself, how coincidental it always was, as if they had arranged it.

“Oh, isn’t this Sun’s wife?” Grand Tutor Wang joked, pretending not to notice Wen Jing had arrived.

“Ancestor, you...” Second Young Master Wang was both embarrassed and anxious, nearly wishing to disappear.

Grand Tutor Wang glared at him. “What’s the big deal? Lady Qi will be the Wang family’s new bride next month. Who in the capital doesn’t know?”

A flash of displeasure crossed Wen Jing’s eyes but quickly vanished, replaced by a smile. “Ancestor, please don’t tease Lady Qi.”

Page (3/3)

“Ancestor, you should rest soon,” Second Young Master Wang scolded, then sneaked a glance at Wen Jing. Seeing her still smiling, he visibly relaxed.

“It’s getting late. I’ll be going first to avoid worrying my parents,” Wen Jing bowed slightly.

“Er Lang, what are you standing there for? Escort Lady Qi home,” Grand Tutor Wang nudged the stunned Second Young Master Wang.

As the two walked away, the smile on Grand Tutor Wang’s face faded.

Inside the carriage, Wen Jing watched Second Young Master Wang blush and fumble nervously, unsure what to say.

“Young Master Wang, are you satisfied with this marriage?” she asked.

“Satisfied... naturally satisfied,” Wang Erlang chuckled.

Wen Jing’s last hope vanished. If Wang Erlang wasn’t willing, perhaps she could persuade both families to cancel the engagement. Though difficult, there was still a sliver of hope.

Looking at Wang Erlang’s gleeful face, Wen Jing opened her mouth but ultimately said nothing. She was not used to hurting an honest person, and besides, telling him was pointless—it would only cause trouble. The real power lay with the ancestor, and from Grand Tutor Wang’s tone, he already considered Wen Jing part of the family. Asking him to voluntarily break the engagement was near impossible. She truly didn’t understand what he saw in her.

Seeing Wen Jing silent, the carriage grew awkward. Wang Erlang thought for a moment and asked, “How is the He family case progressing?”

“No progress yet. Only one suspect has been caught,” Wen Jing replied lightly, thinking it surprising that this bookworm cared about current affairs. She had assumed he would bury himself in books, but she couldn’t reveal too much to an outsider.

“As far as I know, Miss He Yunxiu’s original fiancé, Lu Y, is a violent man who causes trouble with his followers. Since his father is acquainted with the ancestor, I often have dealings with him,” Wang Erlang said, then added, “But we are not close.”

Wen Jing pondered. This was a useful clue. Her intuition told her Cheng Shi was not the murderer—not because of his words with his parents but from his reaction when she told him He Yunxiu’s cause of death. At that moment, his pupils contracted—a sign of shock—his expression shifted from fear to anger. She had studied psychology extensively; instinctive reactions could not be faked. Wang Erlang’s information was important. If Lu Y was truly violent and knew of the affair between He Yunxiu and Cheng Shi, that could be motive for murder.

“Young Master Wang, please take me to the Court of Justice. I need to tell Lord Ji about this clue,” Wen Jing said.

Wang Erlang smiled, “Alright. I was planning to tell Lord Ji myself. This is even better.”

Seeing Wang Erlang’s sincere demeanor, Wen Jing thought having such a brother would be a real blessing.

As the carriage neared the Court of Justice, they saw Ji Changge galloping swiftly on his horse.

Wang Erlang stuck his head out to signal Ji Changge to stop.

When Ji Changge saw Wang Erlang and Wen Jing descend from the carriage, his pupils contracted slightly. Although Wen Jing had said she was going to the Wang mansion, he had assumed she was just coming to confront him with words. He hadn’t expected them to actually arrive together. Thinking of the cramped space inside the carriage, a fiery sensation surged in his chest, yet he forced a smile: “Brother Wang.”

“Feiran, Lady Qi has something to tell you.”

“Oh.” Ji Changge glanced coldly at Wen Qi.

“I’m just here to remind you that Lu Y, the original fiancé of He Yunxiu, might be a suspect,” Wen Jing said, then turned to Wang Erlang, “Young Master Wang, let’s go.”

Wang Erlang stared at Ji Changge for a moment, then hurried after Wen Jing back into the carriage.

Ji Changge cracked his whip, and the black horse surged forward at a gallop.

(To be continued...)