"Sob sob..."
In a daze, Lin Miao heard a woman's "sobbing" intermittently echoing in his ears, yet it seemed somewhat unclear to discern.
Haven't I already died?
How can I still hear crying? Could it be that after death, one can truly become a ghost to briefly linger in the world?
The question is, who is crying for me?
I possess nothing and have no relatives left.
Lin Miao struggled to open his heavy eyelids a crack, propping himself up and peering outside the curtain. This was a room with three wooden beams, and underneath him was a low bed with four legs.
A cotton blanket of coarse blue fabric covered him, thin and carrying a faint medicinal fragrance.
An iron oil lamp stood at the bedside, shaped like a girl holding a bowl, its small flame illuminating only three feet of space.
Sitting up, he realized this was absolutely not the high-tech advanced world he belonged to.
The room was simply furnished, with a dressing table and an antique-style copper mirror, a floral rack near the window with many flowers and plants, but it seemed neglected for days; the floor was clean, with a subtle mix of medicinal fragrance and a faint maidenly scent.
The crying came from the outer hall.
Lin Miao lifted the thin blanket, got out of bed, parted the cloth curtain, and walked out. The scene before him left him momentarily dumbfounded.
Indeed, it was the main hall outside, only now arranged as a mortuary, with a large black "Memorial" character hanging centrally.
On a black coffin was written in gold letters "Spirit of the late Mr. Sun Simiao" which glaringly caught the eye; he could surprisingly read it at a glance despite the unfamiliar script, unlike Chinese.
On the offering table were some tributes, an eternal lamp, and incense rising gracefully from the incense burner.
Before the coffin on a kneeling cushion was a maiden in deep mourning, crying softly like pear blossoms in the rain, utterly woeful.
Is this, Senior Sister Youwei?
"Father..."
Suddenly, Lin Miao felt a splitting headache, a memory not his own emerged vividly from his mind, as if something squeezed out of his head, swelling painfully.
After some moments, the pain eased slightly.
This body was also named Lin Miao, with blurred memories before the age of six. He was adopted ten years ago by Qingping Town's herbal medicine physician Sun Simiao, growing from an ignorant little boy to a sixteen-year-old young man.
The girl kneeling before him was his master's only daughter, Sun Youwei, also his fiancée, nineteen years old, three years his senior.
An older wife, a blessing.
Impressive.
To be precise, Sun Simiao adopted him for two purposes: first, being an orphan without parents, he could inherit his legacy to continue this lineage; second, he had only one daughter and needed someone to carry on the Sun family's surname, thus Lin Miao essentially became the Sun family's adopted son-in-law.
Originally, in two more years when Lin Miao turned eighteen and passed the apprentice physician exam at the Xinglin Institute in the city, Sun planned for their marriage.
To marry into the Sun family, extending their lineage.
But heaven did not grant his wish.
Sun suddenly died.
Counting the days, tomorrow is the seventh day.
"Junior Brother, you're awake?" The maiden heard movement at the door, lifted her head and saw Lin Miao standing there, with her red-swollen eyes filled with deep concern.
Looking at this tear-stained face due to sadness, Lin Miao found that this maiden completely fit his aesthetics, her beautiful neck under the white mourning clothes and the extraordinarily beautiful face with waterborne eyes containing an indescribable sorrow, her clothes washed to fading, instantly stirred a protective instinct within him!
"Senior Sister, how long have I been asleep?" Lin Miao asked, accustomed to addressing Sun Youwei this way at home.
In the future, she'll be my beautiful little wife, Lin Miao swallowed his saliva, momentarily forgetting that he had died once before; since he had already died, the past was over, now he should face the future.
While alive, he never was truly a man (lack of power despite willingness), unexpectedly in death, this opportunity arises.
However, this current body seems a bit young at sixteen; it'll take two more years, but the prospects look promising.
"Father's death left Junior Brother overly grief-stricken. Handling the funeral for days without sleep or rest, eating little, you suddenly fainted this morning, then slept for seven to eight hours..." Sun Youwei mentioned this, her face suddenly turned pale, becoming abnormally discolored as she covered her mouth and coughed violently.
Could this be low blood sugar?
"Senior Sister?" Lin Miao hurried forward, supporting Sun Youwei; from the original memories, Sun Youwei had been sick since childhood, often coughing blood, occasionally getting worse, adopted father Sun Simiao not only treated her himself but also invited senior physicians from the provincial city, all with unsatisfactory results, merely controlling her condition.
Long illness makes a good physician; though Lin Miao had no medical qualifications, he once consulted numerous old traditional physicians for his own ailments, becoming self-taught.
His medical skills already surpassed many practicing for decades, yet his physical condition barred him from formal exams, preventing him from practicing.
Naturally placing his hand on Sun Youwei's right wrist, Lin Miao immediately frowned; his future wife's health was truly poor!
Her pulse was thin and deep, scattered and not cohesive, damaging both yin and yang, with this trend likely leading to severe illness soon.
This typifies depletion syndrome, teetering close to the brink of tuberculosis. (The author frivolously provided fictitious pulse descriptions, don't take them seriously.)
"Junior Brother, don't... we haven't married yet..." Sun Youwei collapsed into Lin Miao's arms, her pale face flushing slightly, clearly uncomfortable with being held so intimately by him.
"Senior Sister, Father long betrothed you to me, you're destined to be mine, sooner or later, what's the difference?" In this life, Lin Miao was no longer powerless, he boldly scooped Sun Youwei up and walked towards the room.
This girl, though tall, weighed very little, feeling only around seventy to eighty pounds, surprisingly light in his arms.
Lin Miao's body, though young, had long trained in martial arts, so carrying her felt effortless.
Sun Youwei was momentarily dumbstruck; Lin Miao had always been respectful and restrained before her, yet today he seemed extraordinarily forward, especially with his gaze now carrying a hint of aggression.
This gentle, fragile beauty was his sole relative coming into this world; Lin Miao could not bear letting her perish untimely.
In his past life, met a similar girl, shared sympathy, but she missed the optimal treatment time despite his superb medical skills, ultimately succumbing beyond human capabilities.
This life, he refuses to let such tragedy recur before him.
As a doctor, adaptability and resourcefulness are paramount, particularly skilled ones adept at utilizing local materials.
Old Sun was a physician, though not remarkably skilled, he kept numerous herbs at home from frequent mountain foraging.
Sun Youwei's ailment lay in her lungs, which govern metal, nourished by water, lungs linked internally with intestines with inevitable intestinal issues for lung-sick patients.
Thus Lin Miao administered three qian of lily (wild lily preferred), one and a half qian of raw rehmannia, one qian each of white peony and tree peony root bark, half a qian each of fritillaria and schisandra fruit, using charred human blood as a guide for decoction!
This formula clears intestinal heat, dispels lung fire, and consolidates foundation.
A dose of herbal decoction put Sun Youwei to sleep, feeling drowsy without realizing it.
She was overly fatigued; during these days of mourning, only she and Lin Miao remained at home, as the sole daughter all affairs fell upon her.
The original Lin Miao, merely sixteen, was a sincere child, knowing nothing; fate replaced him with my traversing presence...
No, the original Lin Miao at sixteen wasn't exhibiting signs of early death, his end seemed suspicious!
This morning in the mortuary, I seemed to glimpse someone, but now cannot recall, as I touched the back of my neck.
Finding a tiny needle mark near the shoulder well acupoint.
With my keen fingertips, I confirmed this as a needle mark.
This traversing doesn't seem ordinary after all.
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