Song Qingchao’s heart grew heavier as she walked.
She, in her light green ruqun, had intruded into this desolation. The pedestrian street, once bustling with people, was now desolate, only frequented by a stray cat or two.
Empty streets, closed doors,
Countless collapsed houses.
She and Liu Zhe'er, Song Qingmu, had split into two groups.
She lifted the hem of her skirt, searching from one shop to another, knocking repeatedly.
There were several medicinal ingredients Bai You'an needed that she didn't have in her spatial dimension.
All her preparations were for the coming war, so the herbs she stored were mostly for external injuries and bones.
Song Qingchao finally slumped in despair before the last medical clinic.
Those she could get to open had no doctors or herbs.
For those she couldn't open, she climbed over the walls to search, but all the pharmacies looked as if they had been ransacked.
She sat with her arms crossed, burying her face between her knees, pounding her sore legs.
Xiyun Pavilion had resumed operations, but in just a few short days, no matter how fast they were, it was impossible for every town to have supplies.
Alas, even if they did, what good would it do now?
It seemed Xiyun Pavilion not only needed to expand but also to replenish all its medicinal herbs.
Just as she was thinking about where else she could find herbs.
A faint voice came from her side, "Little girl, cough, cough, are you looking for a pharmacy?"
The voice was weak and indistinct, scattering in the wind.
Song Qingchao listlessly lifted her head, replied with a sound, and went to find the source of the voice.
"Don't come over..." it was a kind voice, "I'm sick."
"I don't mind," Song Qingchao said softly, "How did Madam know I was looking for a pharmacy?"
She sighed at the end, "I've searched this city upside down, and not one is still open."
The person let out a deep chuckle that sounded like she was choking, "All the doctors in the city have been invited away by Master Lin. If you want to find a doctor, this old woman does know one who is still around."
"Really?" Song Qingchao's eyes brightened slightly, "Please, Madam, tell me. I will surely repay you handsomely in the future!"
The person coughed again, and she took a long breath, making Song Qingchao anxious.
Chang Pinghe's wife seemed to have had a premature birth and a difficult labor.
If she couldn't bring the medicinal ingredients back, even with Bai You'an's excellent medical skills, it would be useless.
"Madam, are you alright?"
"I'm fine." The unseen woman sniffled. "Go to the very south, there is a medical clinic there that should be able to help you."
She paused, "However, the rumors say he has killed people with his medicine, and he is also like a clay Buddha, I'm afraid he can't help you much."
"Thank you, Madam!"
Song Qingchao turned around, bowed respectfully in the direction of the voice, "I have an urgent matter now, so I can only thank you. This young lady will surely return, please take care."
"Hahaha, alright, go."
Her voice remained ethereal and distant.
Even though Song Qingchao hadn't seen her, she felt that this person must be kind and gentle.
She followed the old woman's instructions, running with all her might towards the south of the city.
She wanted to find a horse to ride, but after running through several streets, she didn't see a single one.
To save time, she even ran on the rooftops at times.
She could see the scenes in every courtyard, overturned stone tables, scattered chicken coops, yet no living creatures.
Ten thousand miles of empty streets, nothing more descriptive than this.
This was a truly empty city.
Song Qingchao finally reached the medical clinic the old woman had mentioned after half an hour.
The gate was tightly shut, with no signboard hanging, no wonder it had been overlooked.
As her hand was raised to knock, the door opened from the inside.
It was as if it were fate.
As the heavy door swung open, a clean and refined man in a wheelchair appeared before her.
When the man looked up, his deep pupils stared directly at Song Qingchao, "Who are you?"
His voice was cold, but unlike Song Qingmu's indifference, it held a trace of despair.
That despair was not like Bai You'an's innate laziness and laxity; it was genuine sorrow.
Song Qingchao controlled her disordered breathing, "This junior, Song Qingchao, wishes to ask young master to save someone."
"Save someone?" He couldn't help but scoff, then lowered his head, "Miss, do you know I have killed people with my medicine?"
He placed his hand on the wheelchair and was about to move forward, "Move aside."
As he looked down, in Song Qingchao's eyes, he appeared too weak, as if a single poke would make him fall apart.
"Premature birth and difficult labor, only you can save her." Song Qingchao did not dodge, nor did she answer his question, but directly told him about Wan Wan's symptoms. "Her blood is pale red, thin in texture, scarce in quantity, her complexion is very pale, and she breathes short and gasps."
She stepped forward and bowed respectfully, "May I ask if you, young master, still have any medicinal ingredients to spare? I only need some Du Zhong and Zhi Gan Cao."
The man suddenly looked up at her, his expression strange, "Are there any doctors in this city who would prescribe this formula?"
Song Qingchao's eyes immediately lit up, "Young master, do you mean you have the ingredients?"
Before the man could answer, she pushed his wheelchair into the courtyard.
"Yes, we just arrived in the city."
She was neither humble nor obsequious, yet with a hint of probing, "May I borrow some from you, young master? We will surely return double the amount in the future."
The man glanced at her, then controlled his wheelchair to walk into the courtyard. "Ren Shen sui yi, Dang Gui 6g, Du Zhong 6g, Shao Yao 6g, Shu Di 6-9g, Bai Zhu 4.5g, Zhi Gan Cao 3g, Chen Pi 2.1g, are you prescribing the Tai Yuan Fang?"
His voice was clear and refined, and as he recited these medicinal names, it was as if he were calling out his beloved things.
Song Qingchao followed him, barely keeping pace, and softly replied, "Yes."
She hesitated, "Her condition is very dangerous now."
"Mm, follow me."
Song Qingchao couldn't see his expression, but from his words, she could discern his steadiness and familiarity with medical principles.
She truly found it hard to believe that such a person could have killed someone with his medicine.
She followed him to a spacious courtyard in the back, where various medicinal herbs were being dried.
"I've run out of ginseng here."
Song Qingchao followed him into the main hall, where an entire wall was filled with drawers of herbs.
He skillfully grabbed the herbs, wrapped them, and handed them to Song Qingchao.
"Give this to him, and he will know."
Song Qingchao repeatedly thanked him after receiving the medicine.
The man was very casual, maneuvering his wheelchair out from behind the counter, "There's a carriage in the stable. Unload it, and you can ride it away."
He walked around Song Qingchao, not looking at her again, "I'll take you."