Henry Clark held his other wrist with one hand, warily saying, "Hm? What are you doing?"

William Carter replied impatiently, "Taking your pulse."

"You should have said so earlier." Henry Clark raised his hand, revealing a section of his wrist. "Doctor Carter, please."

There was a brazier burning in the room, and Henry Clark was curled up under the covers, yet his wrist was still cold. As he felt the pulse beating, William Carter furrowed his brows.

Henry Clark's condition had improved, but the root of the illness remained. He could sense that sudden "burst of vitality" Doctor Bolton had mentioned. But Henry Clark's body was like a bottomless pit, slowly consuming that vitality. Unless the root cause was removed, once the vitality was exhausted, Henry Clark still wouldn't live past half a year.

And Henry Clark's illness had no cure.

Seeing William Carter's face dark as water, Henry Clark asked, "Does this mean I can be saved?"

William Carter asked, "Why do you think that?"

"Because you're unhappy." Henry Clark looked unconcerned. "If I put myself in your shoes, I think you'd probably wish I'd die sooner."

William Carter couldn't help but ask, "Do you really not care about life or death at all?"

"There's nothing to care about." Henry Clark smiled. "My fate is determined by the heavens, not by me. Don't worry, you'll definitely be a widow."

William Carter: "..."

Chapter 3, Chapter 3

William Carter got up and left. If the patient himself had lost the will to live, why should he worry? The sooner Henry Clark kicked the bucket, the sooner he could return to The Carter Family.

William Carter went to the study. He had only brought two trunks when he came to the Marquis of Nan'an's residence. One contained clothes, the other medical books. According to the rules of the marquis's household, he could bring two maidservants as part of his dowry. But he wasn't used to being waited on by women; back at The Carter Family, it was a young manservant who had grown up with him who accompanied him in his studies.

Marrying as a male wife was nothing to be proud of, and he didn't want his manservant to bear the title of "dowry" and enter the marquis's household. So he came to The Carter Family alone, and in the future, the only companion he might have would be that trunk of medical books.

Among the medical books were some ancient texts he hadn't yet read; he wondered if any of them recorded cases similar to Henry Clark's. Immersed in them, William Carter's mind finally calmed down.

When he was a student, his classmates all thought medical books were dry and tedious, so complex that reading three pages would put anyone to sleep. But in William Carter's view, the storybooks his classmates were obsessed with weren't even a tenth as interesting as medical texts. Like his father, he had a photographic memory. What his classmates had to memorize by rote for a whole day, he could recite backwards after reading just once.

His father had once considered having him take the imperial exams, but he only wanted to be a medical official. He liked the feeling of patients gradually recovering under his care. He wanted to enter the Imperial Medical Academy, where the best doctors in the land gathered, to study medicine with them, find cures for all kinds of difficult and complicated diseases, and help the common people.

He could have done it. He was just a step away.

"Young master."

The voice didn't sound like a maid. William Carter looked up: sure enough, it was that nanny who always tried to make him change how he addressed her, said to be surnamed Miller.

William Carter said coldly, "What is it?"

Nanny Miller beamed, "Young master, it's time to eat."

William Carter had no appetite at all, but it wasn't worth it to let the scoundrels of the Marquis's household ruin his health. "Bring the food here, I'll eat in the study."

Nanny Miller waved her hands repeatedly. "That won't do, young master."

William Carter frowned. "Why not? Is there a rule in the marquis's inner residence that says 'no eating in the study'?"

"That's not it. It's just that madam instructed us: our young master only survived thanks to the wedding bringing good fortune, and you, young master, are his lucky star. The two of you must often be together, so the young master can recover faster."

There was no point arguing with such logic; it would only make him look foolish. If a wedding could really cure illness, why would Dayu need doctors, why would the court go to such lengths to train medical officials? Just get married when you're sick, and all will be well.

William Carter looked Nanny Miller up and down and asked, "Nanny, how old are you this year?"

Nanny Miller didn't know what William Carter meant by this, but still smiled and said, "This old woman is fifty-two."

"At fifty-two, you look about forty-two. I might not even live to fifty-two. You have good fortune, nanny. With you taking care of the young master, I'm sure he'll recover even faster."

Nanny Miller's smile froze. "Young master, you must be joking."

William Carter's face turned cold. "Do I look like I'm joking? Leave."

Nanny Miller's expression turned very unpleasant. She was the trusted nanny of the marquis's wife, Madam Liang. In the marquis's household, aside from the masters, everyone treated her with utmost respect. Even the masters usually gave her face. What was William Carter? To put it nicely, the young master; to put it bluntly, just a male wife "bought" by the marquis's household to prolong the young master's life. And now, after just one day of marriage, he was already giving her attitude?

Seeing Nanny Miller still standing there, William Carter sneered coldly, "No sense of rank—does a servant dare ignore the young master's orders? Is this also a rule of the marquis's household?"

Nanny Miller lowered her eyes. "This servant wouldn't dare. It's just that madam personally had ginseng chicken soup made today and sent me to bring it. If you don't try it together with the young master, you'll be letting down madam's good intentions."

Ginseng chicken soup?