I loaded the Mysticism panel.

After curing the younger generation in his family, Richard began to think about how to cure Clara.

Clara's injuries were much more serious than the hidden injuries of the younger family members, but easier to treat than her mother's abandoned back road.

One evening in late March, Richard went to the sanatorium where Clara was staying.

The sanatorium is located in a quiet alley south of the college area, with two old elm trees planted at the entrance.

In March, the elm trees are just sprouting tender buds, the leaves are as small as fingernails, and they tremble in the wind.

He knocked on the door, and the nurse on duty answered.

"Miss Farfield is on the third floor."

The nurse glanced at the visitor registration book.

"Who are you?"

"Her junior."

"Oh, let's go up. That tall blonde girl just left."

Sofia just came by.

Richard went up to the third floor and walked along the corridor.

At the end of the corridor, around the corner, there was a half-open door, from which intermittent sounds could be heard.

It's a violin.

The piece is Bach's Partita No. 2, a melancholic and full-bodied work in D minor.

But the sound that came out was intermittent, stopping after a few notes, then starting again after a while, then stopping again after a few more notes.

Richard stood at the door without going in.

He saw Clara sitting in a chair by the window through the crack in the door, her left side facing the window.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, making the rosin powder on the violin bow gleam slightly.

The bandage around her left ear had been removed, revealing a fresh pink scar behind her earlobe.

The zither rests between the chin and collarbone, and the bow moves along the strings.

After playing a few sections, she stopped, turned her head, and brought her right ear closer to the piano.

Richard could tell that Clara was listening very hard.

But when the music came out, the left half of the world was silent.

Clara removed the bow from the string and placed it on her knees.

She lowered her head, and the fingers on her left hand were thinner than she remembered, with the calluses on her fingertips thinner than they should have been.

Richard then knocked on the door.

Clara looked up.

She was taken aback when she saw the person standing at the door, but quickly composed herself.

His lips curled up in a natural smile.

"Why are you here?"

She took the violin off her shoulder.

"Just passing by." Richard went inside.

"Passing by the third floor?" Clara laughed.

"Our Classics Department classrooms are on the north side, and it takes you around most of the college campus to get there."

Richard ignored the question and placed the bag of apples he was holding on the bedside table.

He glanced at the instrument; it was quite old, with a small patch of lacquer on the shoulder worn smooth and shiny.

"What tune were you playing?"

"Partita No. 2." Clara closed the lid of the violin case.

My parents met at a concert.

My mom plays the cello, and my dad plays the clarinet.

They sat next to each other in the orchestra. During rehearsals, my dad kept giving her meaningful glances, which led to him being publicly criticized by the conductor.

"The night I was criticized, my dad went to ask my mom if she wanted to have dinner together."

She gently fastened the clasp on the violin case.

"I started learning the piano when I was five years old, taught by my mother."

"Later, they both went to work on the mystical side, and then something happened to them while they were on the field."

By then I was already in university, and my family provided ample support, so my life wasn't significantly affected.

"It's this instrument, the zither..."

She looked away from the violin case.

"I can't play a complete song anymore."

"The low frequencies are incomplete, the mid and high frequencies are okay, but the low frequencies are just a buzzing sound."

She smiled.

"I can't even distinguish the pitch, let alone produce the right colors."

Richard looked at Clara's face.

The brown-haired girl had a very standard smile, but there wasn't a single laugh line at the corner of her eyes.

"Senior."

"Um?"

"I recently underwent a transformation and gained new abilities."

Clara looked at him.

"It can heal wounds, but it takes a long time to work, though there are few side effects."

He didn't make any definitive statements.

"I've tried it on a few hunters in the family, and the effect is consistent."

"You want to let me try?" Clara's eyes lit up.

"If you'd like."

Clara remained silent for a few seconds.

"There's nothing I'm unwilling about, you're one of us."

Richard told her to tilt her head slightly to the right, exposing her left ear in his direction.

The tree of light in the Sun's Seat began to emit luminous beads.

Clara gave a soft hum.

"It's so itchy..."

After a while, Richard stopped.

"Is it over?" Clara opened her eyes and gasped for breath, her eyes slightly moist.

The ears are one of the most sensitive places. Just now, the continuous flow of Qi from the Yongquan point was no less than digging into the cracks of the ear with a cat toy.

She held it in for almost fifteen minutes during the treatment, and eventually, tears welled up in her eyes.

"That's all for today. I'll come back in three days."

Clara touched her left ear with her finger.

"I don't feel anything right now."

"It will happen. Try playing that section again in a couple of days."

Clara looked at him, her fake smile completely gone.

Those big, dark brown eyes blinked.

"...Thank you, Richard."

She spoke very softly, but the emotion in that "thank you" was different from the polite thanks given on the platform or at the dining table.

"No need to thank me, we're on the same side." Richard returned Clara's words verbatim.

Clara smiled softly.

When he went there the second time, Clara was waiting for him in the hallway.

She changed out of her hospital gown and into clean clothes, and tied her hair up.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Come in."

She pulled her junior into the room and closed the door.

Then she went to the violin case, opened the lid, and played the partita.

We proceed from the first measure all the way to the ninth measure.

The B-flat on the D string has finally come out this time.

Clara removed the bow from the string and turned to look at Richard.

She didn't speak, but her eyes were frighteningly bright.

She put the violin back in its case, this time closing the lid tightly.

"I've been able to feel a noticeable change since yesterday."

"People from the traditional Sunshine Society say that if the hair cells in my inner ear are dead, then they're dead, and I can't afford better treatment."

"Richard, this ability..." She looked up.

Do you know how precious it is?

Richard did not respond.

The gratitude and surprise that had been in Clara's eyes were gradually replaced by something deeper.

This clever senior student has already started thinking about his future.

"Traditional treatments at Sun Temple, even at the minor proficiency level, start at least at fifty pounds per session."

The scope of treatment is limited; it can't withstand injuries that are too severe.

"Ordinary alchemical potions are slow to take effect, have side effects, and the raw materials are becoming increasingly expensive."

"You..."

Her fingers tapped on the clasp of the violin case.

"No effort is required, and it's effective in three days. Moreover... at least in my channels, I haven't heard of anyone else in the Empire who can do it."

Richard leaned against the wall, watching her write a few more lines on the paper.

"If you were to shout throughout the entire capital that you have a healing ability that comes without any cost, guess what would happen?"

Richard thought about it.

"Too many people want it," he said.

"Too many people want it, you can't satisfy everyone."

Clara took over the conversation.

"If you can't satisfy them, you'll offend people, and those you offend are usually people with injuries that need healing and who are not of low rank."

"What's more troublesome is how those who make a living through healing, including those in the Sun Tradition and several other smaller healing traditions, will view you?"

Richard understood.

"Cut off someone's source of income."

"Cut off their source of income." Clara nodded.

"You, a practitioner, have smashed the price of the treatment business overnight."

Those are all centuries-old foundations; do you think they might try to make you...disappear?

Richard felt a chill run down his spine. He was indeed aware of this, but not as clearly as Clara had.

"So," Clara put down her pen.

"You can't treat this as a business."

"Then what should we call it?"

"Consider it a favor."

She went through those points again.

"You only treat two types of people." She held up one finger.

"Families can heal, like the Ashford family, or people like me who know the inside story."

Dealing with this kind of person is like welding relationships shut, weaving a network of connections for themselves.

"The other type is people who are worth befriending and for whom you will have to repay the favor."

If you heal him, he'll remember you for life. In the future, if you ever face difficulties, he'll have to protect you.

"Those other than these two are incurable."

"No matter how much money is offered, no matter what their background is."

"You make it a special service that is 'gifted but not sold,' giving it away as a favor without setting a price."

"Senior," Richard said, "you're suited for business."

Clara looked up at him.

"I used to manage research funds for my advisor."

"Managing money and managing people are not much different."

"You're too young; there might be some intricacies you can't think of, or you might disdain to think about."

"I'll think of these things for you."