Chapter 4: The Divine Physician Consort

Inside Luoyang city, there stood a modest little courtyard—small as a sparrow but complete in its essentials. Birds chirped softly, and the leaves rustled gently in the breeze.

Xu Chengyue lay prone over a desk, sketching and writing, her ears deaf to the world outside the window.

She had carefully planned and acted, fleeing from the scheming Xu family. After a grueling journey, she finally arrived in Luoyang city. No longer did she have to endure the Xu family’s manipulations or be forced into marriage. Freed from the rigid formalities of a great clan, her life was more liberated, yet she still had to make ends meet. Two people and a horse depended on her.

Having been in Luoyang for several days and finally settled the trivial matters, she began to write her first book.

In her previous life, Xu Chengyue had written novels for over a decade, starting at the dawn of online literature. She had witnessed the evolution of web fiction and the storms that had swept through the literary circles.

At the beginning, she knew little about writing novels and blindly followed trends, churning out many melodramatic and sensational stories. But over time, she developed a distinct personal style and abandoned those genres altogether.

That did not mean she lacked skill—in fact, after years of practice, she was more adept than ever, effortlessly wielding the myriad of storytelling tropes.

When the genre of divine healer and poisonous consort burst onto the web fiction scene in its early days, it quickly swept the market, spawning countless imitations: “The Divine Healer Princess Not to Be Messed With,” “The Divine Healer’s Forsaken Daughter, Peerless in the World,” “The Stunning Medical Consort Enchants the Realm.” Their titles could almost be played as a matching game.

This was a classic revenge tale of a female protagonist who played the fool to deceive the tiger.

Xu Chengyue’s writing flowed smoothly, never once stuck. She poured her heart and soul into it, often laughing softly with excitement at the passionate parts, a smile perpetually tugging at the corners of her lips.

Qiulu worked quietly on her sewing, occasionally glancing up with concern at the young lady engrossed behind the screen.

When the young lady escaped, she brought little money; most of it had been spent on the horse and carriage. Rent in Luoyang was exorbitant, and with the house rented, there was even less left. Their current standard of living was only barely sufficient.

The young lady said she would earn money by writing books.

Qiulu did not understand how to write books but had heard of some esteemed officials who authored works. She guessed it would be difficult.

She did not know whether it would end well and only worried the young lady might be disappointed.

Finally, Xu Chengyue finished the first three chapters and placed her brush on the stand.

She had no keyboard and could only write with a brush. Not only was she not very skilled at it, but handwriting simply limited her speed. So, at most, she could write three thousand characters a day. More than that was impossible.

After three hard days, she completed the initial chapters and was ready to test the waters.

“Qiulu, Xiahe, I’m going to the Western Market for a stroll. You two stay home and watch the door,” Xu Chengyue said.

She was exhilarated after writing, her spirits high, momentarily forgetting she was in an ancient era and subconsciously wanting to go out alone.

“That won’t do, young mistress. The maids will accompany you,” Qiulu said anxiously.

“Yes, yes, young mistress,” Xiahe chimed in, unable to stay still and eager to join.

Only then did Xu Chengyue remember that it was quite unusual for a woman of some standing to go out alone in this era.

“All right, let’s go together.”

Xu Chengyue first wandered around and then entered the largest bookstore she could find.

A large bookstore meant more talent gathered there.

“Shopkeeper,” Xu Chengyue greeted the man with a long beard standing behind the counter.

Hearing a female voice, the shopkeeper looked up in confusion. Seeing a young lady, he warned, “Young mistress, this is a bookstore. We do not sell rouge or jewelry.”

“You must be mistaken, shopkeeper. I came here for books. I have written a book. May I ask if your shop can print and sell it?”

Back in the Xu mansion, she had grown tired of using humble terms like "child" or "concubine" to show deference. Now that she was free, she no longer cared about such formalities, as long as she was polite.

Such humble titles contain no malice, only humility and respect. But words like “slave,” “child,” or “concubine” inherently belittle oneself to elevate the other party’s status.

Xu Chengyue resolved never to demean herself like that again unless absolutely necessary.

The shopkeeper was in a foul mood. The master’s son had come today to audit accounts and, finding discrepancies, had harshly scolded him. Now, this stubborn young lady was causing more trouble, souring his mood further. He sneered, “Young mistress, you are young and inexperienced. You think writing and publishing books is easy? Only scholars and men of letters who have studied for years can do such things. Even high-ranking officials in court cannot simply write at will. A misstep would make one look ridiculous. Such things are not meant for women.”

Before Xu Chengyue could respond, Xiahe’s temper flared, and she pointed at the shopkeeper, ready to curse.

Xu Chengyue quickly restrained her with a sharp gesture.

The shopkeeper continued, “Let me guide you, young mistress. Follow this road, cross one street, and you’ll find the places that sell rouge, powders, gold pins, and silver ornaments—those are the places suitable for you.”

“Shopkeeper, you say I have no talent or vision, which I admit. But to say this is not a matter for women—I disagree. The female poet Su Hui of the Former Qin composed the peerless ‘Xuanji Tu.’ Cai Yan, who was captured by the Xiongnu, authored the ‘Lament Poems’ and the ‘Eighteen Songs of the Hu Jia.’ Xie Daoyun’s poems, essays, and eulogies are renowned to this day. You are a scholar; even if you have not read their works, you should have heard of them. How can you say such things?” Xu Chengyue replied calmly.

Even in later times, prejudice against women was unavoidable, let alone in ancient days.

Not wishing to argue further, Xu Chengyue turned to leave.

No matter—there were several other bookstores. She did not believe none would accept her.

The shopkeeper had expected her to be either embarrassed or angry, but instead, she argued with reason and evidence, leaving him at a loss for words.

“Young mistress, please wait.”

Xu Chengyue turned to see a man in a blue round-collared robe and a folded headscarf step out from a door beside the counter.

He clasped his hands and bowed, “It was my fault for the shopkeeper’s rude words. Please accept my apology on his behalf.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Xu Chengyue returned the bow.

“May I see your book, young mistress?” Lü Hongzhuo asked curiously.

He had been painting today but was reprimanded by his father for idleness and summoned to audit the accounts. He had no interest in commerce but had to obey.

Unexpectedly, he overheard the quarrel between the shopkeeper and the young lady and was intrigued by her calm and composed manner.

Moreover, she spoke confidently of her writing—perhaps she was the next Xie Daoyun.

Lü Hongzhuo entertained the thought of being her patron.

“Certainly,” Xu Chengyue said, taking the stitched book from Qiulu and handing it to Lü Hongzhuo.

These stitched books were usually Buddhist scriptures, often read by his mother.

A rare talent was often a bit unconventional.

Lü Hongzhuo glanced at the cover and saw four large characters: Divine Healer Poisonous Consort.

The plain words together were jarringly conspicuous.

Lü Hongzhuo twitched at the corner of his mouth, experiencing for the first time the embarrassment of such a title. Just looking at it made him feel ashamed.

He admitted he had misjudged her, and the shopkeeper would surely mock him for this.

Yet, wanting to spare the young lady some dignity, he slowly opened the first page.

The text’s layout was unlike anything he had seen before—written horizontally from left to right, interspersed with strange patterns.

He read the first line, which described an opulently decorated interior: white jade floor tiles, a rosewood-carved bed, crystal wall lamps, pearl curtains.

The writing was straightforward, lacking literary flair, even more plain than his servants’ speech. He understood it instantly without effort.

He realized those odd patterns served as punctuation marks.

There was no need to compare to Xie Daoyun—his own servant’s writing was better.

But as he continued reading, he completely forgot his earlier sarcastic thoughts.

The protagonist appeared—a peerless beauty.

Her hair coiled like clouds and mist; her skin flawless as snow; brows like distant green mountains; eyes sparkling like stars; teeth like pearls; a glance full of radiance and spirit, as if a celestial consort had descended.

Even the maids who served her year-round were captivated by her allure.

With just a few strokes, a breathtaking beauty sprang vividly to life on the page.

Lü Hongzhuo’s face flushed slightly as the beauty’s fingers brushed a sheer veil, his heart skipping a beat.

This beauty was called the Lady of the Pavilion.

The maids stood respectfully, their words full of reverence for her.

They reported that earlier they had contended with the Mistress of the Zixiao Palace over a treasure called the Chaos Sacred Lotus. They had only succeeded halfway; the lotus seed was taken by the Mistress of Zixiao Palace, leaving them with only the lotus flower.

From their conversation, Lü Hongzhuo discerned that the Chaos Sacred Lotus was crucial to curing the beauty’s poison.

He felt pity for her and secretly cursed the Mistress of Zixiao Palace.

Soon, someone knocked at the door, announcing that people from Yanjing had arrived.

Then the Lady of the Pavilion performed an act that greatly puzzled Lü Hongzhuo: she used a medicinal concoction to blacken her face and arms and painted a large red blotch on her face.

The once stunning beauty instantly transformed into a street beggar.

It turned out this beauty was called Chu Muqing. Born with congenital defects, she was ugly in childhood and despised by her father. When her maternal family suffered calamity and her mother died of grief, she became utterly alone.

Her father sent her to a remote temple in the lonely mountains. By chance, she met a mysterious master who noticed the strange poison in her body.

Out of compassion for her tragic fate, the master accepted her as a disciple, teaching her medical and poison arts while searching for a rare treasure to cure her poison—only the Chaos Sacred Lotus was missing.

Her current return was to uncover the truth behind her maternal family’s massacre and her mother’s death.

After disguising herself, Chu Muqing went out to meet the people sent by her father from Yanjing to fetch her home.

Lü Hongzhuo’s heart ached. He cursed her father as cold and cruel, abandoning his daughter for her plain looks and cold-heartedness. He wondered if he would regret it once she regained her beauty.

But he was puzzled—why had her father initially despised her and now changed his mind to take her back?

With this question burning in his mind, he eagerly read on, seeking answers.

The people sent to fetch Chu Muqing were no important figures, just an ordinary elderly woman.

This old woman was rude and arrogant, speaking to Chu Muqing with disdain, mocking her ugly appearance and lack of education.

She compared Chu Muqing unfavorably to their own young mistress, who had snow-white skin, flawless beauty, and excelled at music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

She said Chu Muqing was not even worth a toe of their young mistress, showering her with insults.

Lü Hongzhuo’s anger surged, his eyebrows arching and chest heaving violently.

Where did such a barking, vicious hound come from? Did she not realize who stood before her was an unrivaled beauty?