After Becoming the Cannon Fodder Live-in Spouse A (GL) - Chapter 8: The Eighth Day

Chapter 8: The Eighth Day

If Ye Fuguang didn’t truly dislike physical contact with her and wasn’t so repulsed by her, Ye Yuge could have grabbed her wrist right then, checked her pulse, and used her “madness” symptoms to test her own knowledge.

Dressed in green like the river encircling Jiangning City, Ye Yuge leaned lazily against a cold stone pillar. She lowered her eyes, letting the sunlight streaming into the hall fail to pierce through her thick lashes, her eyes dark and unreadable.

She casually curled her lip.

“Besides the title ‘Medical Canon’ on the spine, Sister, do you know anything else in this book?”

Tch, who was she looking down on?

Ye Fuguang immediately opened the book, trying to prove she wasn’t illiterate and give Ye Yuge a shock, like an ape standing upright in some super-evolutionary feat. But when she opened it, she found the book was written in oracle bone script.

A single page had just a few complex drawings, seemingly depicting sacrificial rituals.

She realized this was a true ancient text, its blue cover added later.

No wonder Ye Rong, despite years of personal training from an old doctor and daily study in Yong’an Palace’s Imperial Medical Academy, made no progress in medicine and never showed any remarkable skill.

If he couldn’t translate this inherited ‘Medical Canon’ into readable Chinese and copy it, he probably memorized very few prescriptions by rote.

It was no surprise Ye Yuge later became the personal physician for the main characters—her success must be tied to this book.

Ye Fuguang’s university had experts in oracle bone script, and she had taken a course on it. But of the over five thousand oracle bone characters discovered, only fifteen hundred had been deciphered. She couldn’t be expected to have mastered them all as an undergraduate.

In short, being illiterate wasn’t so bad—it fit her persona.

…

She flipped through the pages, picked out a few familiar pictographs, then calmly closed the book and said without changing her expression, “Let me ask you, what are the effects of ginseng?”

Ye Yuge had never seen the serious, focused look on Ye Fuguang’s face as she flipped through the book—a stark contrast to the wasteful, extravagant Ye family member who only knew how to squander money.

For a moment, Ye Yuge almost believed she could read a single word in there.

Now, hearing Ye Fuguang’s question, her eyes grew even more scornful. “Besides ginseng, do you even recognize the ingredients in the dishes at home? You probably can’t tell one grain from another.”

Ye Fuguang looked at her. “You don’t know, do you?”

“…”

This spendthrift was sharper-tongued than before.

Ye Yuge’s face darkened. After a few breaths, she spoke coldly. “Sweet with a slight bitter taste, mildly warm in nature, it replenishes vital energy, strengthens the pulse, prevents collapse, nourishes the spleen, benefits the lungs, promotes fluid production, nourishes bl00d, calms the mind, and enhances wisdom. It can also treat weak limbs or be used in ginseng decoction to stop severe bleeding during childbirth.’”

Ye Fuguang nodded, satisfied.

Her swaying head made her look like a schoolteacher.

But the girl in front of her couldn’t stand this pretense. As Ye Fuguang opened her mouth again, Ye Yuge asked with mock concern, “Does Sister want to grab a few illustrated books from the study to look at, so you don’t struggle with a second question?”

In this era, only toddlers who couldn’t speak clearly read picture books.

She was suggesting Ye Fuguang go read the ‘Three-Character Classic’.

Ye Fuguang ignored her and pretended to think for a moment. “Ephedra decoction and cinnamon twig decoction both relieve exterior symptoms. What conditions do they treat?”

At this question, Ye Yuge’s expression shifted slightly. She eyed the fool in front of her up and down, suspecting for a moment that Ye Fuguang had returned with some hidden motive or had met someone new. After all, Ye Fuguang likely couldn’t even list the principal and assistant herbs in these prescriptions.

But—

Who would take Ye Fuguang seriously, given her ways?

And as a mere fifth-rank minor physician in Yong’an with no exam credentials, why would anyone bother testing her so subtly?

With this thought, Ye Yuge’s scorn softened slightly, though her posture remained lazy. “Both treat external wind-cold with fever. Ephedra decoction is for solid exterior conditions, with no sweating and a tight, floating pulse. Cinnamon twig decoction is for deficient exterior conditions, with sweating and a rapid, floating pulse.’”

Both prescriptions treated wind-cold colds, and though diagnosis required observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking, whether the patient was sweating was the clearest distinction.

What could she say?

The two questions Ye Fuguang asked were kindergarten and elementary school level in the medical world.

But somehow, Ye Yuge was suddenly curious about how many more questions this little fool had up her sleeve. So she waited patiently.

–

The sun climbed higher.

It was early spring, and the lingering winter chill hadn’t faded. Only the slanting golden sunlight leaping over the eaves and into the courtyard at noon brought a hint of warmth.

The two sisters standing in the small courtyard—one in red, one in green—looked like a harmonious scene from an ordinary household, like peach blossoms in March.

But the servants found it anything but harmonious.

Good heavens!

The eldest miss, back home for the day, was discussing studies with the second miss.

Were their eyes and ears failing, or were their minds unwell?

When did the eldest miss learn to read? No, when did the second miss have the patience to chat with her? In the past, they’d clash within moments of meeting. By now, servants sent to fetch the master or the new madam would have run a mile.

In the shadows of the corridor, passing servants rubbed their eyes, cleaned their ears, or shook their heads vigorously. After exchanging glances, they all concluded:

The eldest miss must be suffering from being so stifled in Prince Qi’s mansion!

And the second miss’s upcoming imperial exam must be too hard!

So both had gone crazy!

Ye Fuguang felt the odd stares and thought Ye Rong had returned. She glanced over but saw no movement, so she turned back and said, “Alright, one last question.”

Ye Yuge had already noticed the confused looks but ignored them. She nodded at her elder sister to continue.

“There’s a patient with a pulse like…” Ye Fuguang thought carefully, wavering between “boiling” and “rapid.” Realizing her medical terms were limited, she gave up. “The pulse feels like a weapon’s blade, sharp as a knife, string-like and tight, like touching a blade…”

As she described it, she thought of Shen Jinglan lying there.

No wonder she was a great general—even in sickness and unconsciousness, her bl00d carried a killing aura.

She only described the pulse.

When she married into Prince Qi’s mansion, Shen Jinglan was already in that state. Ye Fuguang hadn’t seen her awake or normal and had only spent two days with her. Yu Qing never let her help with caregiving, so she could only add some details about Shen Jinglan’s usual diet.

After hearing her, Ye Yuge raised an eyebrow, her expression turning strange. “Since when did you change your ways and start reading medical books? You even know about the ten terminal pulses?”

Ye Fuguang was genuinely confused. “What pulse?”

Ye Yuge frowned. “You didn’t read a medical book? Then someone gave you this idea, or one of your bad friends has this terminal illness and sent you to crash into a wall here?”

“…”

Listen to that.

Was that human speech?

Thinking of Shen Jinglan’s current reputation, the Ye family’s choice to send her, the useless one, instead of their exam-bound second daughter to Prince Qi’s mansion was answer enough. Not knowing Ye Yuge’s stance on Prince Qi, Ye Fuguang couldn’t reveal the patient’s identity and vaguely agreed with her last guess.

“How is that crashing into a wall? As the saying goes, saving a life is better than building a seven-story pagoda. A doctor should have compassion and care for the world. Ye Yuge, you should be more open-minded.”

She took the moral high ground.

But she only got a cold snort from her half-sister. “A seven-story pagoda? You build it for me?”

Ye Fuguang actually considered it. “If you can provide a prescription to cure her, she’d probably build it for you.”

…Maybe?

But even so, Ye Yuge wasn’t swayed. “No need. I don’t accept unearned rewards. If you took that person’s money, return it soon, lest their family comes knocking and curses you for swindling their coffin funds.”

Ye Fuguang: “?”

She grew anxious. “You haven’t even seen her. Why not try treating her?”

The girl by the pillar turned away, her tone as cold and indifferent as ever. “Can’t be treated. Just wait for death.”

After a pause, Ye Yuge decided to do a good deed and educate the illiterate. “This person’s liver qi is gone. They’ll die within three days.”

Ye Fuguang had just felt a flicker of despair and sadness, but hearing Ye Yuge’s words, she instinctively retorted, “Nonsense, she’s alive and well.”

It had already been three days since she arrived!

Prince Qi’s mansion hadn’t reported a death yet!

Who was she looking down on?

…

Ye Yuge had been about to return to the study but turned back at her words. She thought Ye Fuguang was just being stubborn, but now, studying her expression—

She seemed confident.

Ye Yuge raised a long brow, crossed her arms, and said rare words. “Either the doctor misread the pulse, or the person who sent you is lying. This pulse is the scythe pulse, one of the ten terminal pulses, exactly as you described. The liver qi can’t be sustained, and no medicine can help.”

The ten terminal pulses?

This time, Ye Fuguang finally caught what she said.

She recalled that in the original story, the main characters were poisoned by a Da Zhi person, and the heroine’s pulse was like a boiling cauldron, one of the ten terminal pulses. Ye Yuge had cured her.

With real skill, Ye Yuge had the air of a divine doctor in front of the main characters—stubborn and unyielding, like a stone in a latrine, foul and hard.

She had a cool exterior and a knack for snarky remarks, but she always arrived in time when the main characters faced danger, earning her a chaotic fanbase that shipped her with them in messy “3P” fanfiction.

Thinking of how much Shen Jinglan had endured her scolding, Ye Fuguang decided to try again for her. “This shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? Aren’t you a prodigy? You might become a divine doctor someday. If you can cure a terminal pulse, wouldn’t it add to your fame?”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me—”

Even with a kinder tone, Ye Yuge was unmoved. “Besides, I have no ambition to practice medicine. If Sister has no other business, you’ve returned home, but our parents are busy and likely won’t be back before dark. You should head back to Prince Qi’s mansion soon.”

So difficult.

Ye Fuguang was out of ideas.

The original Ye Fuguang had a bad relationship with the Ye family, so even if they had a solution, they wouldn’t bother helping her. Besides, Ye Yuge now wasn’t the omnipotent divine doctor she’d become.

Shen Jinglan’s luck was just bad.

With this thought, Ye Fuguang turned to leave with her maids, looking dejected. Then she remembered something and turned back. “By the way, where did I put the gifts I brought for you?”

Jixiang and Ruyi had chosen them carefully, so Ye Fuguang didn’t even know what they were.

But to Ye Yuge, her words sounded different.

Ye Fuguang’s demeanor was so unlike before—nothing like the furious girl who’d learned she’d marry into Prince Qi’s mansion for a rush wedding. Her expression was calm, almost… content?

How could that be?

Could the sickly, reportedly unpredictable Prince Qi actually treat her well?

She must have misread it.

With this thought, Ye Yuge casually ordered a servant to fetch the gifts. But she saw Ye Fuguang in her peach-colored dress dawdling, turning back every few steps like a newborn puppy in a village field, her round eyes gleaming with a hint of hope as they met hers.

“Can’t you really think of something?”

“…”

Ye Yuge coldly refused. “No.”

–

The hour of the Boar.

In the silent night, the watchman’s clapper sounded outside the window.

The evergreen bamboo leaves rustled in the cold wind outside the courtyard. In the moonlight, Ye Yuge suddenly opened her eyes and sat up like a corpse.

That soft voice still echoed in her ears.

“Can’t you really think of something?”

Those round eyes, that pleading gaze, paired with the bright peach-colored robe, were strikingly vivid.

Where did this wastrel learn such coy tricks from some tender Dikun?

Wasn’t she ashamed?

Ye Yuge took a deep breath, cursing inwardly for a while. She meant to pull the blanket back and sleep, but that voice haunted her like a spell.

Fuming, she threw off the blanket, grabbed a coat, and headed to the desk, lighting a candle. When a sleepy book boy outside asked, she casually said she was reviewing lessons and needed no company.

That’s what she said.

But her hand reached for the stack of medical books, irrelevant to the imperial exam, including the ‘Medical Canon’ inherited from the old divine doctor by Ye Rong.