Extra 8. Baojia × Li Dafeng - Gentle Breeze Comes Slowly · 1

In the eleventh year of Guangwu, on the night of the Lunar New Year’s Eve.

Outside the city walls of Chang’an, two young women dressed in bright-colored robes and draped in silver fox cloaks each held a Kongming lantern. With the help of their maids, they slowly unfurled the lantern shades.

Jiang Zhiyi fiddled with her own lantern while glancing at Baojia’s. On the shade of her lantern were seven elegant, flowing characters:

“Sister, these lanterns are for blessings and wishes, not for cursing people,” Jiang Zhiyi teased.

Baojia raised an eyebrow. “How do you know ‘lonely old age’ is a curse? Maybe some people actually prefer it.”

“Who on earth would want to grow old alone?”

The two lit the wicks of their lanterns by hand, and the two Kongming lanterns slowly ascended into the sky, carried upward by the flames.

Baojia stood rooted to the spot, watching as the lanterns drifted away with the wind. She didn’t know whether she was answering Jiang Zhiyi or muttering to herself: “Seven years of silence, no word at all—and even after returning to the capital over a month ago, not once stepping foot inside Chang’an’s gates. What else could it mean but that he prefers growing old alone?”

“I think he just heard that your estate is now filled with handsome men and decided not to come bother you,” Jiang Zhiyi said with a smirk.

“What do you know, child? I met him when you were only eight years old.”

Jiang Zhiyi pouted. “Well, I’m grown up now, Sister. Tell me—what’s the story between you and Doctor Li?”

“It’s too long to explain—I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Then just tell me the beginning and the ending. I’ll guess the middle part myself.”

“Does your brother Shen always pester you like this?” Baojia chuckled, unable to stay annoyed with her. After a brief pause, she tilted her head to watch the distant lanterns and began speaking softly.

“The beginning wasn’t anything special. His father worked in the Imperial Medical Bureau back then and was quite skilled. He was especially reliable at pulse diagnosis using silk threads—a technique many colleagues couldn’t match. The palace often summoned this Dr. Li for consultations, and so did I. One day, I wasn’t feeling well and requested Dr. Li as usual, but I heard he was stuck with Consort Fan all day and couldn’t leave. Normally, switching to another doctor wouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was obvious that Consort Fan was deliberately keeping him there. Back then, I still had a childish streak, so I insisted on having Dr. Li come to me.”

Jiang Zhiyi could roughly understand. Princess Baojia had distanced herself from the emperor, empress, and crown prince after moving out of the palace to her own estate. But during her time living in the palace, she must have maintained a relatively harmonious relationship with them. Consort Fan constantly opposed the empress, and her son, the second prince, challenged the crown prince at every turn. Naturally, Baojia would have sided with her mother and brother, refusing to let Consort Fan trample all over her.

“You can probably guess what happened next. Relying on the power of the Fan family from Hedong, Consort Fan was always arrogant and domineering in the palace. Dr. Li couldn’t afford to offend her, but he also knew that if he sent someone else to treat me, I wouldn’t accept it. So, he sent someone special to my palace—to apologize.”

“That special person was his own son? Was Doctor Li already working in the palace before he came of age?”

“Sort of. Li Dafeng was a student at the Imperial Medical Bureau at the time. Though he occasionally accompanied doctors on house calls, those visits were usually to officials’ homes. Entering the inner palace was his first time.”

“Poor Doctor Li! His first visit ended with a slap in the face, learning how deep the waters of the palace run.”

Baojia thought recounting such ancient history would be as tasteless as chewing wax, but thanks to Jiang Zhiyi’s commentary, she found herself chuckling as she spoke: “He didn’t get slapped around—he was sharp as a tack.”

She vaguely remembered that when Li Dafeng arrived that day, she was seething with anger toward Consort Fan and suffering from severe abdominal pain. Hearing him calmly introduce himself outside her bedchamber, she hurled a teacup at him from her bed.

The cup shattered into pieces right in front of Li Dafeng. Her personal maid, Cuimei, smiled politely and explained that her mistress wasn’t feeling well and was in a foul mood.

She assumed this son of Dr. Li had been sent as a scapegoat and would be trembling with fear. To her surprise, through the bed curtains, she saw the tall, slender figure bend down to pick up the shards of porcelain.

A moment later, a cultured male voice sounded outside the curtain: “Your Highness has abdominal pain. It’s customary for me to inquire about your meals today. Perhaps Your Highness was informing me of what you drank earlier.”

His tone was neither humble nor arrogant—calm and composed.

“You Li family members certainly have guts. Your father couldn’t come, yet you dare to speculate on this princess’s intentions,” she coldly snapped from within the curtains.

The person outside remained unruffled: “Forgive me for overstepping, but I reviewed Your Highness’s medical records before coming here. You’re currently in your menstrual cycle, and this tea was brewed too strong. Drinking it could worsen the pain. Regardless of the reason, breaking the cup was the right thing to do.”

Back then, her pride was still fragile. Hearing older physicians talk about menstruation hadn’t bothered her, but Li Dafeng’s youthful voice—only a few years older than her—made her blush. Suddenly, her anger dissipated.

Cuimei stepped in, saying they’d noted his advice, and asked if she should invite Li Dafeng to take her pulse.

“Without an official title, what kind of pulse can he diagnose? Send him away,” she grumbled impatiently, clutching her abdomen and turning her back.

But the person outside persisted: “Your Highness, I wouldn’t dare claim mastery of medicine, but since I’m here, allow me to take your pulse. Afterward, you may bring my prescription to the Imperial Medical Bureau to verify its accuracy. If there’s any mistake, you’re free to punish both me and my father.”

At this point in the story, Jiang Zhiyi sighed admiringly: “Doctor Li was very perceptive of human nature even at a young age. No wonder he caught your eye, Sister.”

Baojia snorted lightly. Naturally, after hearing him say that, how could she not give him a try? She allowed him to perform the silk-thread pulse diagnosis. Not only did he prescribe the correct medication, but he also provided a dietary therapy plan for long-term use, specifically targeting her condition of cold uterus. Later, when she showed the prescription to the imperial physician serving her father, even he praised it highly, remarking that the younger generation was impressive.

Still unwilling to admit defeat, thinking it was just luck, she decided to test Li Dafeng’s skills again. A few days later, she specifically requested him to attend to her.

When Li Dafeng came to her palace the second time, Cuimei greeted him warmly, complimenting the effectiveness of the prescription he’d given last time. She explained that the princess trusted him deeply and had summoned him because she was unwell again.

Li Dafeng once again performed the silk-thread pulse diagnosis. However, behind the thick bed curtains, she secretly tied the other end of the thread to the leg of a pregnant cat, waiting for Li Dafeng to sweat nervously.

To her astonishment, after a brief pause, his voice remained steady: “Congratulations, Your Highness. This is a pregnancy pulse.”

“How dare you!” Cuimei scolded sharply. “The princess hasn’t married yet, and her period just ended. How could there be a pregnancy pulse? Your reckless words will ruin the princess’s reputation!”

Li Dafeng bowed respectfully outside the curtain: “What I meant wasn’t about the princess, but about her beloved pet. Congratulations, Your Highness—this cat is carrying three kittens. Next month, you’ll have more companions to play with.”

Inside the curtain, she felt the cat’s round belly in disbelief, trying to count how many kittens it was carrying but failing miserably.

Li Dafeng continued confidently: “If Your Highness wants to know the exact conditions of these three kittens, you may move the thread half an inch higher. That way, I can diagnose more accurately.”

She was completely speechless, unable to retort further.

Truthfully, she hadn’t intended to make an example of the Li family. She knew the root cause lay with Consort Fan, and the Lis were innocent. She had only wanted to intimidate Li Dafeng since he hadn’t shown any fear during his first visit.

However, after that incident, the story of Li Dafeng diagnosing a cat spread throughout the palace. By the following month, many concubines and princesses came to see how many kittens her cat had given birth to. When they confirmed it was indeed three, not only had she failed to suppress his reputation, but she inadvertently made him even more famous.

After that, other consorts and princesses occasionally requested Dr. Li to bring Li Dafeng along for consultations.

At first, she paid no attention to these rumors and no longer bothered playing tricks to embarrass him. Gradually, she forgot about him altogether.

A few days later, her cat became weak after giving birth and seemed unusually listless. Concerned, she summoned the palace veterinarian to examine it. However, after two days of treatment, there was no improvement. The cat refused to eat and grew even more lethargic.

She called in three different veterinarians, but none could help. At this critical moment, Cuimei remembered Li Dafeng, saying, “Since he can diagnose cats, perhaps he might have a solution?”

Thinking that even a desperate attempt was worth trying, she decided to send for him. But as fate would have it, she heard that Li Dafeng was currently at the palace of her third sister—Consort Fan’s daughter.

She had heard that her third sister had been pretending to be sick frequently during those days, and this wasn’t the first time she had requested Li Dafeng’s presence.

Was the Fan family deliberately opposing her? Furious, she wrapped the cat in a blanket and rode in a sedan chair to her sister’s palace.

In the third princess’s bedchamber, when the eunuch announced, “Princess Baojia has arrived,” Li Dafeng turned around—and for the first time, stepping out from behind the curtains, she saw his face:

High nose bridge, peach-shaped eyes, a complexion as fair as powder, thick eyebrows, and thin lips.

At first glance, she instantly understood why her third sister was pretending to be sick so often.

With a face like that, who wouldn’t want to fake an illness?

Li Dafeng turned to meet her gaze, lowering his eyes after a brief moment. He bowed respectfully and greeted her: “Your humble servant pays respects to Princess.”

“Sister, what brings you here? It’s just a minor ailment—I didn’t mean to trouble you personally…” A “weak” voice drifted out from behind the bed curtains.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Sister. I’m not here for you.” She gestured behind her, signaling Cuimei to bring the cat wrapped in the blanket forward. Turning to Li Dafeng, she said with a smile, “Come now, take a look at my cat.”

From behind the curtains came her sister’s incredulous voice: “Sister, I’m still sick, and you’ve brought a cat to interrupt my consultation. Are you trying to humiliate me?”

“You’d best shut your mouth, you fake invalid. Let me give you some advice, Sister—if you keep pretending to be sick, it might actually become true. Try to accumulate some virtue, will you?”

Her third sister grew agitated, pulling back the curtains and shouting: “Master Li, I summoned you here. If you dare attend to anyone else, you’ll be violating the rules of the Imperial Medical Bureau, and I’ll hold you accountable!”

“Master Li”—the term sounded disturbingly intimate.

Here she was, their elder sister, still unmarried, while her younger sister was already seeking a potential husband for herself.

Smiling sweetly, she turned to Li Dafeng: “But my cat isn’t exactly another ‘person,’ is it, Master Li? Wouldn’t you agree?”

If at that moment, Li Dafeng had smoothly and diplomatically refused her on the grounds of “first come, first served” and continued attending to her sister, she likely wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

But instead, he took the cat from Cuimei’s arms, gently examined its neck, and appeared startled by its condition. Ignoring her sister entirely and forgetting to use formal titles, he frowned and asked, “What happened? Tell me about it.”

In that instant, she thought: My sister may have poor character, but her taste in men isn’t half bad.