The Eldest Brother is Handsome but Sick. - Chapter 12

The drizzle was fine and dense, dampening the window frames of the room. The weather during this season was at its most fickle, often mixing rain with a stifling heat that left one drenched in sweat by nightfall.

In his dream, Su Huai saw himself writing prescriptions at his desk. Suddenly, the candle flickered. He looked up to find someone standing by the door, a slender figure in a half-drenched green robe.

“Why are you out in the rain?” Su Huai hurriedly put down his brush and led him inside.

Yan Jin leaned limply against him, his steps faltering, dragging Su Huai down to the floor with him. He sat in Su Huai’s lap, looking down at him with those curved, smiling eyes. They were damp with the rain from outside, and looking into them, one could no longer think of anyone else.

“Yan Jin?” Su Huai’s throat tightened as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He caught a faint, lingering fragrance—a scent he had personally crafted, a mark left upon Yan Jin.

Yan Jin suddenly leaned in, his lips nearly brushing Su Huai’s earlobe as he chuckled softly, “Little Physician Su, the night rain is cold. Might I borrow half your bed for a night’s rest?”

Su Huai’s mind exploded with a roar.

That single glance beneath the begonia tree at the Su family clinic years ago had been etched into his heart for so long. He could no longer claim that his heart was empty.

Gasp!

Su Huai shoved “Yan Jin” away and wrapped the quilt tightly around himself.

He scrambled backward, his eyes red with a frustration he had nowhere to vent. In the dream, Yan Jin had stared at him unblinkingly, water dripping from his hair, the cinnabar mole between his brows a blinding red in the candlelight.

Su Huai was reminded of begonia blossoms after a spring rain soft, moist, yet brilliantly alluring. The stamens, heavy with raindrops, would spill a palmful of water at the slightest touch.

Splash!

Su Huai went outside and dumped a bucket of cold water over himself from head to toe. He braced his hands against the wall, his brow furrowed, a discarded pair of undergarments lying at his feet.

Even so, he felt a thin layer of sweat clinging to his back, a sticky discomfort that wouldn’t leave him.

It was still early. The courtyard was silent, save for the faint chirping of birds; even Little White Plum was still snoring away in Yan Jin’s room.

Su Huai dried himself off, changed into fresh clothes, and downed a pot of overnight tea. He cleaned himself up thoroughly and even hosed down the ground twice, attempting to wash away any evidence of what had happened.

His face remained taut throughout the entire process. He slung his medicine box over his shoulder and prepared to head out.

Every young man has his “coming of age,” and for Su Huai, it had simply arrived a little later than most. It wasn’t that he lacked desire; it was that he had determined his feelings so early that his heart was firm, never harboring thoughts of anyone else.

He had once sneered at Lin Jiebai’s erotic illustrations, looking down on the base lust of the pleasure houses. He had believed his feelings for Yan Jin were “noble”, like guarding the blossoms on a branch or the moon among the clouds.

Though he often wished Yan Jin shared his “tastes,” he was prepared to simply stay by his side if the man never awakened to romance, so long as he remained the person closest to him.

However, those “noble” sentiments were shattered by every uncontrollable physical reaction that he could no longer suppress or ignore.

“The sun isn’t even up yet. Where are you going?”

Su Huai snapped out of his daze as a head popped out from nearby. Unfortunately, the owner of that head was the very same person who had just run wild in his dreams. An inexplicable sense of grievance surged within him.

Yan Jin leaned against the doorframe yawning, with Little White Plum stretching beside his feet. As the saying goes, pets take after their owners; both man and dog looked utterly relaxed and carefree.

The grievance swirled in Su Huai’s heart, transforming into a sudden, stifling irritation.

Why is it that I’ve been tossing and turning for years, while Yan Jin remains completely oblivious?

He felt a flare of anger that he couldn’t voice. After sulking silently, he managed to choke out: “It’s going to rain today. Don’t go out.” With that, he turned and left Sansheng Hall without looking back.

“…?” The abandoned Yan Jin blinked. He looked up at the cloudless, vast blue sky, utterly baffled. “What’s wrong with him? Did he dream about a ghost last night?”

Whether Su Huai had dreamed of ghosts, Yan Jin didn’t know,  but he certainly felt like he was seeing one now.

Outside Sansheng Hall, Yan Jin stood by the street with his hands tucked in his sleeves. He wore a strained, “skin-deep” smile while his eyelid twitched uncontrollably.

An old donkey approached slowly to the sound of a bell. Slumped on its back was a woman who smelled strongly of alcohol. her arms hung limp, her fingertips nearly grazing the ground.

The donkey stopped in front of Yan Jin and gave it’s back a shake. The woman finally lifted her head and squinted at him with half-open eyes. Perhaps it had been too long; she didn’t recognize him at first. After staring dizzily for a while, she let out a realization and a silly laugh: “Oh, my dear pupil! It’s been a few years; how did you get so, plump?”

Before Yan Jin could respond, she seemed to lose all her strength and lowered her head again. “Spent all my silver on wine. Give me some more, won’t you?”

She reached out to grab Yan Jin, but her vision was doubled. After a few stumbles, she rolled right off the donkey’s back and landed on the ground, immediately snoring away.

If this had happened a few years ago, Yan Jin would have had a massive headache. But now, he had developed a heart as steady as a mountain. He turned on his heel and went inside to call for help.

His Master, who had been missing for years, had actually returned!

Yin Zhushuang, the current Sect Master of Sansheng Hall. Rumor had it she was once a legendary physician who shook the martial world, even possessing ties to the Wen family of the Marquis of Dingyuan.

Of course, those were just rumors. In Yan Jin’s eyes, there was nothing his Master couldn’t “solve” by having another drink. She was a phantom, always disappearing. Ever since Yan Jin took over the clinic, she had been gone.

Over the years, Yan Jin had asked many people to look for her. If he was lucky, he’d find her at a famous tavern; if not, he just had to wait for her to show up. But usually, within fifteen minutes of meeting, she’d vanish again.

Yin Zhushuang never came back for money. Logically, unless something major had happened, she wouldn’t have appeared.

Yan Jin thought back on recent events, but nothing seemed significant enough to disturb her peace.

“Young Master.”

Suddenly, a voice called out.

Yan Jin’s feet stopped dead. His body went rigid. He knew that voice. In the decade following the loss of his mother and then his father’s affection, an old man had often stayed by his side at midnight, patting his back and humming folk lullabies to help him sleep.

Only now did he notice another figure standing a short distance behind the donkey.

It was an old man with white hair and a slight hunch. He was dressed in plain white mourning clothes, with a hemp belt around his waist and a mourning band across his forehead that partially obscured his eyes.

Yan Jin recognized him: Steward Wang of the Yan family. And he recognized the attire, it was exactly what the entire clan had worn when his mother passed away.

He was in full mourning.

Yan Jin’s heart began to hammer against his ribs; his throat went dry and tight.

Steward Wang fell to his knees, trembling, and kowtowed deeply. With a voice full of grief, he cried: “Young Master… the Master has passed away.”