Blooming Flowers, Silent Sorrow

Chapter 69

Que Siming, just as rumors and Su Yin had said, was a man of exceptional martial prowess and unparalleled medical skills, yet notoriously difficult to get along with.

The pale mask covering the upper half of his face was enough to keep people at bay, and his cold and harsh demeanor, akin to a hunter's, only added to his unapproachability. Any slight displeasure might lead to verbal jabs or, worse, physical harm.

When Xiao Bao first saw him, the chilling glare from behind the mask's holes made him shiver.

Que Siming was wrapped in a black robe, tall and slender with broad shoulders and narrow waist, and notably attractive. His hair was slightly curled and held back by a hairpin, the dark strands mostly draped over his shoulders. Besides the pristine white mask on his face, he also wore white gloves, concealing most of his face but leaving visible his straight nose, elegant jawline, and thin lips—undeniably handsome features.

Despite their exhaustion from days of travel, Su Yin promptly took care of some immediate responsibilities upon alighting the coach, then led Xiao Bao to the mansion's inner hall.

Upon opening the door, they found the man, clad only in black and white, leisurely drinking tea with his legs propped on the coffee table.

Su Yin nodded in approval. "Good, you're here sooner than I expected."

Que Siming looked up at Su Yin, twisted his neck slightly, glanced at Xiao Bao, and subtly pursed his lips—a gesture that unexpectedly tightened Xiao Bao's throat with nervousness.

"I owe you, and I've said I'd pay it back. I wouldn't break my promise," Que Siming spoke, his voice hoarse yet oddly captivating. He sprang to his feet so swiftly that before the others could react, he was merely two feet away, mysteriously holding a small gourd.

Su Yin reached for it, angrily declaring, "I'll handle it..."

Before he could finish, Que Siming spun upwards, opening the gourd as he positioned himself above their heads. Xiao Bao, using only his peripheral vision, saw him vigorously shake his sleeves, spraying them with a mist of water, leaving Xiao Bao momentarily stunned.

A pungent smell quickly filled the air. Su Yin, wiping his face, scolded, "I said I'd do it. We were about to bathe anyway; does staying a moment longer threaten your life?"

Que Siming glared at him. "You've traveled from Jiangnan, passing through the epidemic region in Qianzhong, carrying who knows how much filth. And you raise your voice at me? Why not bathe before you came? Get out of my sight, and don't come back until you've scrubbed off a layer of skin."

Su Yin cursed again, pulling Xiao Bao away while Xiao Bao remained in a petrified state.

The two quickly bathed, and after emerging, Que Siming circled around them three times, scrutinizing and sniffing like they were cabbages in a market, before finally settling down.

When it was time to check Xiao Bao's pulse, Que Siming meticulously cleaned his wrist with the medicine before—still gloved and with a condescending air—placing his fingertips on Xiao Bao’s pulse.

After a long moment, he nodded, "Not bad, it’s indeed cold poison. Cold poison has been absent from the martial world for a long time; this is the first case I’ve encountered. Take off your clothes."

Xiao Bao let out a gasp.

From behind the mask's eyeholes, Que Siming commanded, “Take off your clothes.”

Trembling, Xiao Bao quickly stripped and lay obediently on the bed, feeling exposed and vulnerable, like a fish on a chopping board—both embarrassed and uncomfortable.