Extra 11. Baojia × Li Dafeng - Gentle Breeze Comes Slowly · 4

Baojia gazed quietly into the man’s eyes across from her. They were peach-blossom eyes, always carrying a faint trace of warmth when relaxed. Earlier, she had seen him laughing and joking with Shen Yuance outside the tent. Yet, when he looked at her, those same eyes seemed to strain to erase every flicker of emotion completely.

It was an oddly telling kind of guilt.

Suddenly, Baojia smiled.

She hadn’t truly meant to invite him in the first place. Just as she had opened that restaurant, naming it something deeply sentimental to tease his heart, inviting him to her estate, speaking words that were deliberately ambiguous—sometimes distant, sometimes close—she simply wanted to see if his carefully constructed facade would crack under any of them.

She didn’t even know what she hoped to gain. Perhaps she didn’t hope for anything at all. It was just that this man was so adept at enduring, and she wanted to see what he looked like when he couldn’t hold back anymore. A little entertainment to spice up her otherwise dull days.

When he finally took her seriously, she would shake her head and say, “So Mr. Li’s resolve isn’t as strong as I thought,” then clap her hands and walk away.

Lost in these thoughts, Baojia’s gaze shifted downward—from his straight, dignified nose, to the deep groove above his lips, and finally to the small bead at the center of his lower lip. Suddenly, noticing something, she squinted and leaned forward.

Li Dafeng’s eyes flickered, and the hand resting on his knee clenched tightly.

Baojia paused mid-lean, glancing down at the veins bulging on the back of his hand.

“Nervous?” Baojia chuckled softly, her eyes narrowing further as she examined the faint scar beside his lip bead. She raised her index finger and pointed. “I just noticed this. It reminded me—I think I did something rather impolite when I saw you off all those years ago. This wouldn’t happen to be from that time, would it?”

Under her scrutiny, Li Dafeng subtly averted his gaze.

Seven years had passed—memories of that night should have long since faded. But perhaps because he had replayed that moment thousands of times over those years, every detail of that night felt as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

He remembered the cold words he had thrown at her before leaving.

He remembered her rising onto her toes, heedless of everything, and crashing her lips against his in defiance.

He remembered how, shackled by chains around his neck and wrists, he had been powerless to resist as she kissed him like a predator tearing into its prey.

He remembered the sting of his stubble grazing her lips—and how she had retaliated, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

He remembered the salty taste of tears mingling with saliva and blood, a cacophony of sour, salty, sweet, and metallic flavors swirling between their lips, swallowed mouthful by mouthful.

These images flashed through Li Dafeng’s mind in rapid succession. Finally, he murmured vaguely, “Your Highness remembers too much.”

So it was.

Though the scar was now faint, visible only upon close inspection, the fact that it remained after seven years was remarkable in itself.

“Lips don’t usually scar. Did I bite that hard?” Baojia asked, her eyes fixed intently on his lips from mere inches away.

Li Dafeng’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

Ordinarily, lips didn’t scar—but deep wounds left untreated could leave exceptions. And as a physician, he knew best how to hasten healing. He had simply chosen not to let it heal.

That journey had been grueling: ragged clothes, faltering steps, and frostbitten skin rotting in the winter cold. Amidst all that decay, only the wound she had inflicted had brought a sharp, living pain—pulling him back from the brink whenever he lay in the snow, numb and ready to give up.

“…No,” Li Dafeng finally replied after a long pause.

After a beat, Baojia seemed to forget what he was answering. “No to what?”

“No—it wasn’t very hard.”

Was the word burning his tongue? Baojia laughed and leaned back. “I didn’t understand the grace of parting well when I was younger. My actions back then must have been quite unbecoming. Please don’t take it to heart, Mr. Li.”

“You flatter me, Your Highness.”

Baojia picked up the wine jug beside her, poured a cup, and raised it in a toast. “To—Mr. Li’s lack of regret.”

With effortless elegance, she tilted her head back and drained the cup in one gulp. Tossing the empty vessel aside, she stood up.

Li Dafeng rose as well. “Your Highness hasn’t had your sobering tea yet.”

“Don’t you know, Mr. Li? Being a little drunk at night makes life more enjoyable.” Smiling, Baojia walked out gracefully.

Inside the tent, Li Dafeng watched her retreating figure disappear from view. Standing still, he silently stared at the remnants of the feast scattered across the table. After a moment, he bent down, picked up the discarded cup, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one go.

________________________________________

Three nights later, inside the main tent of the military camp, Li Dafeng had waited all day before Yuan Ce finally returned from the city.

Earlier that day, news of Queen Dowager Xiluo’s critical condition had arrived unexpectedly, prompting the entire Xuan Ce Army to prepare for immediate deployment. Everyone gathered in the camp, awaiting orders. Li Dafeng, having nothing to do, spent the day sitting idly.

Yuan Ce, on the other hand, had been quite busy—he had finalized his engagement, paid a visit to the palace, and even played a game of chess with his future brother-in-law that evening.

“Looks like you’re not in a hurry to return to Hexi?” Li Dafeng stood up, tucking his wide sleeves into place as he spoke.

“I’ll return once the Zhong family’s exile date is set. Until then, I’ve got to finalize my betrothal gifts.”

Li Dafeng chuckled. “A fiancée obtained through deception still counts as a fiancée?”

“Better than not being able to deceive anyone at all,” Yuan Ce quipped, raising an eyebrow. “By the way, I heard today in the palace that several imperial physicians have been summoned to Princess Baojia’s estate over the past two days. No one knows who’s ill, though.”

Li Dafeng’s smile faded. “Who?”

“They didn’t say. Do you think I’m wasting time playing suspense with you? From the looks of those physicians scrambling about, it’s clearly someone important.”

Li Dafeng frowned. “What kind of medical box were they carrying?”

“Still asking questions? If you want to know, why don’t you go yourself?” Yuan Ce closed his eyes, recalling the scene. “It was sandalwood-colored, with seven drawers on the front and three tiers on the back.”

That was the highest specification—a case for complex, full-body symptoms.

Yuan Ce added, “I think I overheard one of the physicians asking whether it was a house cat or a stray. It might have something to do with cats.”

Cats, complex symptoms, and questions about house versus stray cats—if it was cat-scratch disease—

Li Dafeng’s hand, hidden beneath his wide sleeve, slowly clenched into a fist.

“If you want to practice medicine, go,” Yuan Ce said, tossing him a token for entering the city.

Li Dafeng caught the token narrowly, hesitating for a few breaths inside the tent before turning and hurrying out of the main tent.

________________________________________

Half an hour later, inside the princess’s bedchamber, Baojia sat on the edge of the bed, holding a bowl of rice porridge. Seeing Cuimei lead Li Dafeng in, she remarked curiously, “What brings Mr. Li here so late at night?”

Li Dafeng looked at her, seemingly unharmed, and his tense chest gradually relaxed. He offered a casual excuse: “Physician Xu mentioned that Princess Baojia’s estate had summoned doctors. He asked me to come and check.”

“So Physician Xu didn’t tell you who was ill? What did Cuimei say…” Baojia gestured toward Cuimei standing nearby. “…When Mr. Li dismounted at the gate, did he ask for the princess?”

Li Dafeng’s gaze shifted slightly, falling on the young man lying on the bed behind Baojia.

“The patient is one of my retainers—Jiang Jin Yue, whom I mentioned to you a few days ago,” Baojia said, pointing toward the bed.

The man on the bed turned his head, revealing a face that bore a striking resemblance to Li Dafeng—three parts in facial features and five parts in demeanor.

For a fleeting moment, as their eyes met, Jiang Jinyue’s breathing hitched, and Li Dafeng’s hand gripping the medical box tightened instinctively.

“This Physician Xu is truly incompetent,” Baojia said, swirling her spoon lazily in the bowl of rice porridge. “When he couldn’t cure my retainer, I naturally lost my temper with him. How troublesome of him to bother you, Mr. Li. Please take a seat while I feed Jinyue his dinner.”

Li Dafeng was ushered to a seat nearby. He watched as Cuimei helped Jiang Jinyue sit up, and Baojia spoke to the man on the bed in a soft, tender tone: “Be a good boy and drink this rice oil—it’s been simmering in the kitchen for half a day.”

Turning back to Li Dafeng, she resumed her usual tone. “Physician Xu diagnosed it as tetanus caused by a cat scratch. About ten days ago, his arm was injured by a cat, and the symptoms only started manifesting recently. Any exposure to bright light, loud sounds, or drafts triggers spasms throughout his body. Physician Xu has just administered acupuncture, which temporarily suppresses the symptoms.”

Li Dafeng glanced at the dimly lit room, the tightly shut windows and doors, and nodded.

Jiang Jinyue’s face was rigid with illness, his jaw clenched tightly, making it difficult to open his mouth. He managed to part his lips slightly.

Baojia scooped a spoonful of rice porridge and fed it to him, but half of it spilled from the corner of his mouth. She dabbed gently with a handkerchief to clean it up.

Li Dafeng’s long fingers resting on his knee curled one by one. He tried to look away but found himself unable to tear his gaze from the two of them, staring intently as though entranced—or perhaps afflicted.

Jiang Jinyue clenched his mouth shut, refusing to open it again.

“There’s no shame in being sick—we all get sick sometimes,” Baojia said lightly, tilting her chin toward Li Dafeng. “Mr. Li here has a physician’s compassionate heart—he’s not mocking you. He’s simply observing your symptoms, isn’t that right, Mr. Li?”

Meeting Baojia’s gaze, Li Dafeng nodded again.

Baojia scooped another spoonful of rice oil and held it to Jiang Jinyue’s lips, waiting patiently as he hesitated to open his mouth. “What? Do you want me to feed you mouth-to-mouth?”

Li Dafeng quickly averted his head.

Unable to speak, Jiang Jinyue widened his eyes at Baojia and shook his head vehemently.

Baojia smiled faintly. “Then be a good boy and open your mouth.”

It took nearly two full quarters of an hour to finish feeding the bowl of rice oil. In the stifling, airtight room, the atmosphere grew increasingly suffocating, pressing down on everyone like an invisible weight.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of the bowl being set aside broke the silence. “Mr. Li, come and take his pulse now.”

Baojia stood up and made room. Li Dafeng stepped forward, placing a cushion along the edge of the bed and motioning for Jiang Jinyue to rest his wrist on it. He then extended three fingers to feel the pulse.

“Well?” Baojia asked impatiently after a moment.

Li Dafeng and Jiang Jinyue stared at each other—one glaring intensely, the other calmly squinting. “How can a diagnosis be so quick?” Li Dafeng replied evenly.

“Hmm?” Baojia tilted her head in surprise, looking down at him.

Li Dafeng paused briefly. “Please wait a moment longer, Your Highness.”

Baojia leaned against the bedpost, turning her head slightly. In the reflection of the bronze mirror, she saw the corners of her lips slowly curling upward.

After a while, Li Dafeng finished taking the pulse and examined the wound on Jiang Jinyue’s arm. He concluded, “It’s tetanus, moderate severity. With medication and acupuncture treatment, it should improve to mild symptoms within ten days.”

Baojia exhaled in relief. “Only you, Mr. Li, could handle this. That Physician Xu is becoming utterly useless—he had me worried sick for two days without a wink of sleep.”

“You can rest easy now. No more melodrama, right?” Baojia looked at Jiang Jinyue.

Jiang Jinyue nodded weakly.

“I know you were worried I’d stop letting you care for Ruyi if something happened to you—but how could you stay silent after being scratched by Ruyi? Will you dare do it again next time?”

Jiang Jinyue shook his head firmly.

Li Dafeng’s gaze faltered, his mind suddenly drifting into distant memories.

Ruyi—the most affectionate of the three kittens back then. Every time he entered that fragrant palace, the snowy, fluffy little cat would stumble into his arms.

When the palace painter came to paint Ruyi’s portrait, Ruyi refused to leave Li Dafeng’s embrace. The painter ended up including both him and Ruyi in the painting. That painting—

Catching sight of something out of the corner of his eye, Li Dafeng turned his head and noticed a painting hanging on the wall.

In the painting, a grown-up Ruyi nestled contentedly in Jiang Jinyue’s arms, eyes half-closed in peaceful slumber.

Nothing about it suggested any irreplaceable bond.

“Don’t worry, Ruyi is closest to you now. I won’t give Ruyi to anyone else,” Baojia said, leaning over to pat Jiang Jinyue’s forehead. From the corner of her eye, she caught Li Dafeng’s stiffened profile, and her lips curved into a subtle smile.

Jiang Jinyue nodded, noticing Li Dafeng’s lingering gaze on the painting. He pursed his lips and gestured toward the teapot beside him with a tilt of his head.

Baojia stepped forward. “Mr. Li, he wants some water. Shall I take over, or…”

Li Dafeng looked at Jiang Jinyue, picked up the teapot, poured a cup of tea, and held it to his lips. But Jiang Jinyue kept his mouth firmly shut, blinking back tears that had welled up in his eyes, looking pitifully at Baojia and shaking his head.

“How clingy you are—more than Ruyi,” Baojia teased with a smile. “Alright, alright. The sick person gets priority.”

Li Dafeng gripped the teacup tightly.

The sick person gets priority.

Years ago, when her cold uterus flared up and her abdominal pain became unbearable, she had insisted he stay in her palace, forbidding him to leave. This was the reasoning she used to persuade him.

Once he stayed, she pressed further, asking him to massage her acupoints.

He refused, suggesting a palace lady should do it instead.

She countered, “Don’t physicians see no distinction between men and women?”

Physicians may see no gender distinctions, but he harbored feelings for her all the same.

Seeing her pale, sweat-soaked face, he finally relented. “Fine, I’ll do it. The sick person gets priority.”

Lost in thought, Li Dafeng suddenly noticed Baojia extending her hand toward him.

Her snow-white palm hovered before his eyes, silently requesting the teacup meant for someone else.

Li Dafeng handed the teacup to Baojia, stepping aside to make room. He turned his back to them, catching a glimpse of his own discomfited retreat in the bronze mirror.