Morning returned gentle and golden after the festival.Dew clung to the rice stalks, and the village smelled faintly of sweet smoke and earth.The merchants were preparing to leave — wagons lined along the road, horses stamping, the air alive with parting chatter.
Achu stood near her stall, now half-empty after a day of good trade. Ran and Chen helped pack the remaining jars while Fei slept on a folded blanket, her small hand clutching a wooden duck.
"You've done well," said Master Peng, approaching her with his walking stick. "The southern traders were impressed — they'll spread word of Anning's goods. We might see even more caravans before winter."
Achu smiled politely. "That's good, Elder. The villagers will prosper."
Yet, her gaze lingered on one wagon at the end of the line — the same one that carried the merchant who had recognized her yesterday.He was speaking with another man in hushed tones, his hand slipping a sealed letter into the other's sleeve.
Her senses caught the faint ripple of spiritual energy on the parchment. Royal wax.
Her eyes narrowed briefly, but she said nothing.For now, peace still needed to hold.
Rumors on the Wind
By noon, the wagons disappeared down the southern road, leaving only ruts in the dust.The villagers returned to their routines, cleaning up decorations, washing stalls, and laughing about last night's dances.
But by late afternoon, two travelers stumbled into the village gates.They were from Yinhe Village, one of Anning's smaller neighbors. Their faces were pale, and one of them leaned heavily on the other.
Achu was tending to the drying herbs behind her house when Chen came running."Mom! Elder Peng is asking for you — someone's sick!"
She dropped her tools immediately.
When she arrived, the small crowd around the gate parted. The younger traveler was trembling, sweat pouring down his temples, though his skin looked oddly pale — almost chalky. The elder one kept whispering, "It spread… it spread…"
Achu knelt beside them, her tone calm but firm."Don't touch him directly," she warned the others. "Get clean water and a sheet."
She pressed her fingers against the man's wrist, feeling his pulse — erratic, weak, but something deeper troubled her. A faint, unnatural cold emanated from his skin, seeping through the air.
"This isn't a common fever," she murmured.
The First Sign of the White Disease
When the sheet came, Achu wrapped it around the sick traveler and asked for space. She studied his skin under the sunlight — patches of pale white spreading like frost, creeping from his neck toward his jaw.The veins beneath looked faintly silver, as if frozen.
"White veins," she whispered under her breath. "He's been poisoned… no, afflicted."
Ran and Chen stood nearby, wide-eyed."Mom, is it dangerous?" Ran asked.
Achu's eyes softened. "To him — yes. To us — not yet, if we're careful."
She turned to the villagers. "I need charcoal, hot water, and a jar of green salve from my shed. Move quickly."
No one questioned her.In the past years, Achu's knowledge of medicine had saved countless lives — broken bones, fever, infection, childbirth.Few remembered she had once trained under royal physicians, studying healing arts that ordinary apothecaries never learned.
The Apothecary's Touch
Achu's house soon filled with the faint scent of herbs and smoke.She set a small cauldron over the fire, grinding dried roots and powders in her mortar. Her movements were precise, almost ceremonial.
She murmured under her breath, half-prayer, half-formula:"Two parts red fern, one of dragonleaf… balance with spirit root to draw out yin."
Chen brought the water, Ran fanned the flame.Little Fei, sensing tension, stayed quiet in her cradle.
As the mixture simmered, the air shimmered faintly with golden light — Achu's spiritual energy infusing the medicine.She dipped her fingers in and brushed the salveded across the traveler's neck. The white patches pulsed once, then dulled slightly, as if the spread had slowed.
The elder traveler wept in relief."You— you saved him?"
"Not yet," Achu said softly. "But we've bought him time. Keep him warm. Don't let the white touch the skin of others."
Whispers of Fear
By nightfall, the entire village had heard of the sickness.People whispered as they lit their lamps, fear seeping into their once-peaceful hearts.
Some said it was a curse.Others said Yinhe's river had gone bad — the fish turning pale and dying upstream.
Achu stood at the threshold of her home, staring at the faint mist rising from the paddies. Her hands smelled of herbs and smoke; her eyes reflected the lantern light like calm water.
Master Peng approached quietly."Have you seen something like this before?" he asked.
She hesitated — just a moment — before answering."Once," she said. "A long time ago, in the capital. It started with one village. Then a dozen."
The old man's expression darkened."What did they call it?"
Achu looked toward the forest."The White Disease."
Night's Vigil
That night, while the others slept, Achu stayed awake in her small apothecary room. Bottles glowed faintly in the candlelight; scrolls of old medicinal notes were spread before her.
Her slender fingers traced ancient words — cold corruption, yin imbalance, alchemical residue.She frowned. "This isn't natural. Someone tampered with the water or the herbs near Yinhe."
Outside, the forest whispered again. Those unseen eyes — the watchers — had returned, closer than before.Perhaps they too had heard the rumors.
Achu blew out the candle."Whatever this is," she murmured into the dark, "it won't touch Anning."
The faint pulse of her spiritual aura rolled across the fields like a protective wave — unseen, but strong.The soil, the crops, the streams — all shimmered briefly, warded by her will.
Then silence returned, soft and deep.The healer watched over her land as the world beyond began to tremble.s