Chapter 2: The Wounded Fire Man
Chapter 2
She passed out after injecting herself with a drug she had developed, and when she woke up, she was here.
Some unfamiliar memories in her mind were slowly intertwining with her own.
Yuan Qingling had long been thinking of and missing King Chu Yuwen Hao. After turning fifteen and coming of age, she went to a banquet at the princess's residence and schemed to frame King Chu for "taking advantage" of her, going through great lengths to get what she wished and become King Chu's consort.
But sadly, after marrying into the royal residence for a year, despite her best efforts, King Chu hadn't even glanced at her.
As a woman of science, although she had never been in love, the lingering painful tearing told her that the original owner must have gone through an invasive act before her death.
The remnants of the original owner's memories in her mind also confirmed this.
Having gone from genius researcher to the consort of some unknown dynasty's King Chu, the only thing Yuan Qingling regretted was that she could no longer continue her research project.
Soul transmigration, something completely unscientific, happening to her, she was not overly worried about her circumstances, but rather thought that if she could return to modern times, she might study parapsychology.
The excessive blood loss made her feel dizzy and muddleheaded, so she simply stopped thinking and went back to bed to sleep.
She didn't know how much time passed, but outside came an enormous boom, accompanied by a miserable shriek.
"Hurry, hurry and call the doctor!"
Panicked, disorderly voices came from Qi Amah outside the door.
The smell of blood seeped in through the barely open wooden door.
Yuan Qingling held onto a chair to steady her shaky footsteps and looked outside.
She saw Qi Amah and a maid supporting a servant boy sitting in the corridor. Blood was gushing from the boy's eyes with something stuck in them, and he was crying loudly in acute pain.
Qi Amah was very anxious and wanted to cover the bleeding area with her hands, but the sharp object was protruding from the eyeball, so she wanted to pull the sharp object out.
Seeing this, Yuan Qingling disregarded the pain all over her body and quickly walked over. "Don't move!"
Qi Amah jumped in fright. Seeing it was her, she said unpleasantly, "This is none of the consort's business. Consort, please go back."
Yuan Qingling took a look and felt slightly relieved. The sharp object was a nail that had grazed the corner of the eye and stabbed in deeply rather than into the eyeball itself.
The nail was embedded very deeply. Forcibly pulling it out would injure the cornea or even cause the eyeball to rupture. DiiScôver 𝒏𝒆w stori𝒆s on no/𝒗/e()/lbin(.)c/o/m
"Tweezers, cotton, needles, strong alcohol, and a decoction boiled with aconite, pokeweed, henbane, birthwort, and datura flowers. Hurry!" Yuan Qingling pushed Qi Amah aside and ordered steadily.
Qi Amah shoved her away furiously. "Don't touch my grandson!"
"By the time the doctor gets here..."
Seeing her about to continue speaking, Qi Amah pushed her forcefully back into the room and shut the door.
Yuan Qingling fell to the ground from the push. A cold sentence echoed in her mind: "There is no need to treat her as your mistress. Just treat her as one more dog kept by the Chu royal residence."
She was just a dog, so naturally the servants would not respect her either.
Yuan Qingling slowly lay back down on the bed, listening to the boy's cries of pain growing distant outside. He must have been moved somewhere else.
That child looked about ten years old or so?
What a pity. If treatment was delayed, not only might he lose eyesight, he could also lose his life to infection.
Yuan Qingling did not have a particularly compassionate heart. She only believed that what she had studied was medicine and medicinal and viral research. Her family were all doctors, and ever since she was little, the topic her elders and forebears had discussed most at home was a doctor's responsibility and methods of treatment.
In the Yuan family's eyes, healing was a calling.
They practiced what they preached, devoting their entire lives to doing this well.
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