Whoever can strike me hard will be rewarded handsomely.

Back at his private residence, Qin Ji arranged for Bian Yushu and Shang Jingming to be placed in the same side room so that the doctor could take care of them later.

Each person has their own bed, one bed faces south and the other faces east.

Bian Yushu was in good condition. Qin Ji punished him with bamboo canes, which wouldn't break him. At most, it would only cause him some physical pain. He was also well taken care of, and apart from the pain in his back, he had no other discomfort.

Shang Jingming was seriously ill, his eyes were closed, and his whole body was burning hot.

With Qin Ji's approval, even though it was autumn, the servants lit a charcoal fire in the room beforehand and removed Shang Jingming's blood-stained clothes one by one, exposing his wounds to the air.

Qin Ji's expression remained unchanged, while Bian Yushu gasped in shock.

The skin was torn open, and the flesh was a bloody mess.

Clearly, after Qin Ji punished him, Shang Jingming also suffered a severe beating.

The wound, untreated and exposed to rain and mud, looked particularly gruesome.

A servant named Zhijie, who had some medical knowledge, carefully used strong liquor to wipe Shang Jingming's body to cool him down and wipe away the mud and bloodstains on his wounds.

The cotton cloth soaked in strong liquor was used to wipe the wound, causing Shang Jingming, who had already fallen into a coma, to struggle violently like a fish on a chopping board. Several people held his hands and feet down until the wound was treated and he calmed down.

His injuries made it inconvenient for him to wear a lower garment, so Zhijie changed him into clean clothes, then moved a small table behind Shang Jingming and placed it on top of him, covering him with a thin brocade quilt.

After doing all that, Fulu returned with the doctor.

After taking his pulse and carefully examining the wound, the doctor scraped away the necrotic tissue, cleaned the wound, and pricked it to release the stagnant blood. He then applied Angelica sinensis ointment and wrote a prescription.

Shang Jingming's condition was serious, and even the doctor dared not make a guarantee. He advised, "Decoct the medicine in water and administer it three times a day."

"His injuries from the stick are quite severe, and he's also caught a cold. Fortunately, he's young and strong. If his high fever subsides, he'll be fine. But if the fever persists..."

Qin Ji gave him a wink.

Fu Lu understood and ordered someone to quickly prepare the medicine, rewarding the doctor with a large sum of money. He also told the doctor, "Tonight, I will trouble you to personally look after the two young masters. Just tell me what they need, and the most important thing is to cure them."

Dr. Liang accepted the generous consultation fee and nodded, saying, "I have some experience treating cane sores, and I will do my best."

After collecting the consultation fee, Dr. Liang went to see Bian Yushu. Seeing that Bian Yushu was in good spirits, he knew what was going on.

After examining the injury, she understood the situation. She took a small box of ointment from her medicine box and placed it beside his pillow. "It promotes blood circulation, reduces swelling and pain. Apply it for a few days and the pain will subside. It's nothing serious. Were you punished by your elders, young master?"

Bian Yushu blushed at his question. Compared to Shang Jingming, she felt that it was making a mountain out of a molehill for the doctor to examine her injury so closely.

When he was punished in the palace last time, the imperial physician treated his injuries, but he never joked with him like this. Instead, he prescribed ointment and carefully explained how to use it.

Little did he know that for the noble ladies in the palace, the imperial physicians would check their pulses daily, and even a minor headache or fever was a serious matter. Being punished with a rod was already considered an overreaction.

In ordinary households, many people are reluctant to see a doctor even when they have minor ailments.

If someone is beaten and their skin is torn and bleeding, it's understandable to call a doctor. But if it's just a minor bruise from being punished by elders, you can just apply some ointment and it will heal in a few days. Who would bother to call a doctor for proper treatment?

Bian Yushu wished she could disappear into a crack in the ground. She quickly pointed at Shang Jingming and said, "I'm fine. The main thing is that you need to take care of him. He's badly injured, so please look after him."

Pointing at him like that, Shang Jingming, who was lying on the other bed, actually woke up. He groggily lifted his eyelids and didn't forget to mock him in a hoarse voice, "You spoiled brat."

Bian Yushu was so angry by his words that she almost jumped out of bed to pounce on him and pinch him. Luckily, she remembered that she had just been punished and dared not stage a fight between the wounded in front of Qin Ji.

After Shang Jingming habitually provoked Bian Yushu, his muddled brain finally began to function.

The clean and tidy bed, the soft bedding, and the carefully treated injuries all told him that what happened before he lost consciousness was not a delusion he had before his death.

His heart suddenly clenched, and Shang Jingming looked up in disbelief. When his eyes met someone's, his pupils shrank to the size of pinpoints.

The figure holding the umbrella for him in the rain gradually became clearer, transforming into the image of the young emperor before his eyes.

His heavy body couldn't support Shang Jingming's movement to get up; the excruciating pain pressed him down on the couch, rendering him immobile. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, His Majesty seemed to have no intention of revealing his identity.

Shang Jingming mustered his strength, stretched out his hand, and made a walking figure with two fingers. He climbed onto the pillow, bent his fingers towards Qin Ji, and made a kneeling gesture, saying, "Thank you, young master, for saving my life. I will never forget your kindness."

Doctor Liang, who was standing to the side, laughed first and said, "Looking at the young master's spirits, I feel much more confident."

By using his finger instead of kneeling, he neither revealed his identity nor failed to perform the proper etiquette despite his physical limitations.

To be honest, even though this kid is so sick, his mind is still pretty sharp.

Qin Ji took a sip of tea. "Getting better soon is the best way to thank me."

Although it wasn't explicitly stated, this was practically an implication that he might be of use in the future.

Shang Jingming felt as if he had been given a shot of adrenaline, and he became much more clear-headed. Just then, the medicine was ready and brought over, and he drank it without saying a word.

Being young and strong, he started sweating within half an hour of taking the medicine, and his fever quickly subsided.

Qin Ji looked at the two wounded men, told them to "take good care of themselves," and then left them behind, only planning to take Fu Lu and Bian Dou back to the palace at night.

Bian Yushu was surprised that he wasn't being taken along, and called out "Young Master" in a flustered manner.

It's simply absurd that he, as a companion, was left alone outside the palace to recover from his injuries.

Qin Ji glanced at him, "I'll send someone to pick you up in a couple of days."

Bian Yushu was finally relieved.

...

The rain had stopped, and Qin Ji and the other two boarded the carriage back to the palace.

Night had fallen, and the curfew should have been in effect, yet there were quite a few people carrying lanterns and resembling servants searching for something.

The carriage proceeded along the curfew fences. At one fence, the patrolling soldiers checked Biandou's identification badge. Biandou pointed to the servants and asked, "What are they looking for in the middle of the night?"

The night patrolman returned the token to Biandou, saying, "They say the son of the Vice Minister of War has gone missing. The Vice Minister has written a petition and is leading people everywhere to search for him."

A soldier nearby chimed in with a complaint, "I heard that young master is sixteen or seventeen. Where can you just throw a grown man away? What if he went to some brothel without telling his family? Is it really worth all this fuss?"

The night patrolman slapped him on the head, saying, "Keep your mouth shut."