The people from the Supervision Office brought news that a traveling doctor had entered the capital from Huainan. This doctor was highly skilled, but throughout his life, he refused to treat the powerful and influential. When Samuel Grant relayed this news to Brian Clark, Brian Clark showed no sign of joy. He narrowed his eyes slightly, still wearing the heavy dragon robe from court.

These dragon robes were cumbersome, and his face was tinged with a flush from the weight, lacking the flawless beauty of fine jade, while a trace of fatigue showed between his brows.

At court today, quite a few people had reported General Reed's son. Owen Reed had ridden his horse recklessly through the marketplace. It wasn’t a huge matter, but not a trivial one either, yet Brian Clark was quite displeased.

This future regent was simply too arrogant.

He docked General Reed three months’ salary and ordered him to discipline his son properly. Just thinking of Owen Reed, the male lead of the book, put him in a foul mood again.

But a famous doctor still had to be seen. Brian Clark had someone help him change into an indigo everyday robe and, with a few attendants, left the palace discreetly.

In truth, Brian Clark didn’t hold out much hope. The imperial physicians in the palace were the best in the land—if they couldn’t help, how could this traveling doctor be any better?

“Master, it’s right here.” Chief Guard pointed to the wooden door ahead.

Brian Clark smiled faintly and signaled him to knock. In a moment, a young boy came to open the door, peering them up and down through the crack. “Are you here for treatment?”

Chief Guard replied, “That’s right.”

The boy asked, “Who is the patient?”

Brian Clark stepped out from behind the guards, his indigo robe accentuating his tall, slender figure. He smiled gently at the boy. “That would be me.”

The boy stared at him, mouth agape, and asked foolishly, “Can immortals get sick too?”

“Whether immortals get sick, I don’t know,” Brian Clark replied with a smile, “but I am certainly a man plagued by illness.”

The boy led Brian Clark inside. The room was filled with other patients, all dressed in coarse clothing, with sallow faces and rough hands, curiously eyeing the group.

The guards exuded a commanding presence, clearly not ordinary people, and Brian Clark even more so. He was carefully protected in the center, walking with a leisurely grace. Even with his pale complexion, his noble aura was unmistakable.

The traveling doctor glanced at them, immediately realizing they were no ordinary folk, but said nothing. He silently gestured for Brian Clark to sit. Brian Clark extended his hand, revealing a small section of his wrist. The doctor took his pulse for a quarter of an hour, his frown deepening all the while.

When he finally let go, he said crisply, “I can’t cure you. You can only rely on tonics to keep going.”

The attendants’ faces darkened. Brian Clark let out a long sigh, instructed them to leave some money, and got up to leave.

He wasn’t particularly upset.

The emperor strolled aimlessly, eventually reaching the riverside. He looked down, seeing his reflection tinged with the color of peach blossoms. This body was frail in every way, except for its exceptionally handsome face, but Brian Clark didn’t care for it.

He gazed for a while, then reached back. An attendant handed him a handkerchief. Brian Clark wiped his wrist and hands, and, noticing a mother bird feeding her chicks in a nearby tree, he watched in a daze for a moment. Suddenly, the handkerchief in his hand was caught by the wind and blown into the river.

“What a waste of a good handkerchief,” Brian Clark sighed. “Let’s go back to the palace.”

The water’s surface was calm, the handkerchief drifting farther away. Only after the group had disappeared did something stir beneath the water. A man dragged a woman up onto the bank. Both were soaked and bedraggled, but the man in silk had a gleam in his eyes. He brushed the water from his face, cheeks flushed as if waking from a beautiful dream.

Author’s note:

Red envelopes for the first 100 comments on this chapter!

Chapter 4

On the river, a small boat drifted with the current.

Owen Reed stood at the bow, his expression shadowed. Behind him, Ethan Cooper, son of the Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, was leisurely pouring himself a drink. Seeing Owen Reed’s fierce look, he chuckled, “So your half-brother didn’t actually have the plague?”

Owen Reed’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Ethan, can you believe it? He tried to play tricks on my mother. When I got home today, I almost killed him.”

Ethan Cooper burst out laughing. “And your father got his salary docked, too. The emperor scolded both of you in front of all the officials.”

Owen Reed’s smile deepened. “Exactly. As soon as he got home, he sparred with me, and told me to find a chance to apologize to the little emperor next time.”

Ethan Cooper snickered.

Owen Reed looked the part of a gentleman, but his temper was worse than a dog’s. No matter how polite his smile, who knew what vicious, unscrupulous thoughts lurked beneath.

He was also utterly reckless, with no sense of propriety or virtue. If General Reed didn’t keep a close eye on him, Owen Reed would probably have chopped up his half-brother and fed him to the wolves, without a care for public censure or moral condemnation.

A general’s son, yet he lived like a bandit chief.

Ethan Cooper said, “You’d better behave. Plenty of people in the capital have their eyes on you.”

“I just ride a horse and they say I’m committing violence in the marketplace,” Owen Reed said. “One of these days, I’ll pile up a mound of skulls at their gates①, and show them what real violence looks like.”