Chapter 50: The Doctor’s Troubles

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Whenever I used to see doctors in their white coats, I always envied how they had money, women, and even red envelopes. Now, I've finally understood the hardships of being a doctor. In the depths of the night, just as I was sleeping soundly, Changsun Wuji barged in and dragged me out. Honestly, now that I’m a doctor myself, can you stop hauling me around like a chick?

Li the Second is running a fever! Changsun Wuji was furious, and so was I, having my sleep interrupted. Can I tell you that it’s completely normal to develop a fever after such severe trauma? It’s the immune system battling viruses. But what do you even know about viruses? Honestly, I don’t know much either!

I really wanted to kick this guy a few times, but seeing as Changsun Wuji was already on edge, I gave up on the idea.

"Give him water! Add ice to some saline with sugar, and feed it to him spoon by spoon. Put ice cubes in the water. Then wring out a clean cloth and place it on his forehead. Keep wiping his palms and armpits with alcohol. And make sure to wipe off all the sweat with cloth boiled in saline, especially around the wounds—absolutely no sweat is allowed to seep into them," I ordered the two maids, sending them scurrying about. Even Changsun Wuji was pressed into service, constantly handing me cloths.

Any time sweat appeared on Li the Second, especially in the critical areas, Changsun Wuji had to wipe it away. Watching him so diligently at work, I couldn't help but feel my suspicions were confirmed—these two really are just like those soap-dropping buddies.

The saline with sugar greatly helped replenish Li the Second’s strength and balance his electrolytes. My physics teacher used to say that the temperature of an ice-water mix is zero degrees. After soaking and wringing the cloth, placing it on Li the Second’s forehead had a clear cooling effect. And wiping his palms and armpits with alcohol—this is a common physical cooling method in modern times. When my grandson had a fever in my previous life, the whole family was worried yet didn’t dare give him medicine. We could only wipe him repeatedly with alcohol—a trick taught by a doctor relative.

After a hectic night, just as dawn broke, Li the Second’s fever began to subside. By sunrise, he seemed to regain his vitality—his forehead cool, his eyes open. His first words, however, were, "I'm hungry!" Are you truly the Son of Heaven, or just the reincarnation of a starving ghost?

Changsun Wuji, who cared nothing for my wellbeing, glared at me and demanded I make food. Ever since he tasted my cooking, he insisted no one else prepare meals for Li the Second. Those sticky, gooey soup dumplings were dismissed as pig slop.

After repeated, futile protests, I finally entered the kitchen. Reasoning with Changsun Wuji is self-torture. In his eyes, might makes right. When cunning minds resort to brute force, they take it to the extreme.

Wu Shiyou was extremely eager to please—he had arrived the previous night. Having heard my rules, he didn’t dare cross the threshold, staying in the front yard. The kitchen was already piled high with chickens, ducks, and fish.

The chef, after tasting one of my fried meatballs, was completely in awe of me. If he weren’t old enough to be my grandfather, he might have knelt down and begged to become my apprentice. To be outdone by a child after a lifetime of cooking—he regarded it as the greatest stain on his career.

What to serve for breakfast? Of course, rice porridge. There wasn’t time to steam buns, and after a sleepless night, I was too tired to bother. I’m at a growing age—keeping me up all night is a crime. What if I end up stunted? Scientists say kids grow while sleeping.

Groggy and half-asleep, I set a pot of rice porridge to simmer and fried two eggs to fill my stomach. The pan wasn’t flat, so the eggs didn’t turn out well—burnt at the edges, half-raw in the middle. No matter, eggs can be eaten runny, can’t they?

After eating, I leaned against the stove and dozed off. Children need their sleep, and staying up all night is brutal—half a night without sleep is half a life lost. A nap was desperately needed to recover.

"Lazybones! Miss, look at this child—he even drools in his sleep." Through my haze, I heard a woman’s voice. Has the God of Dreams changed genders? I blinked my eyes open and saw a head with a high bun before me. Good grief, has Lady Meng changed her face?

Then a voice, sweet as an oriole’s song, sounded and I woke up fully. Zhang Miaoke! That beautiful, gentle girl, whose charm could rival that of an idol.

Before I could say a word, a fragrant handkerchief appeared beneath my nose. She gently wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth. "Why are you sleeping here? What if you catch a chill?" Honestly, how is a man supposed to live? Her voice was so sweet, just listening could give you diabetes. No wonder that bastard Wu Yuanshuang looked like a lovesick fool every time he saw Zhang Miaoke. I need to find a chance to teach him a lesson—a rare treasure like her can’t be wasted on a pig.

"Last night I was busy all night tending to the second son of Duke Tang’s wounds. And this morning, that wretched Changsun Wuji made me cook..." I put on my most pitiful face, stretching out my little hands, hoping Zhang Miaoke would hold me. Maybe I could rest my head against her chest...

Smack! A sharp sting on my hand—I glared at the smaller version of Granny Rong.

"With those greasy paws, you dare touch my lady’s hand?" Xing’er stood with hands on her hips, looking even more like Granny Rong.

"Xing’er! He’s just a child—there’s no need for such strict propriety. Also, never speak ill of Mr. Changsun again. He is the son of General Changsun Sheng of the Right Valiant Guard, and his mother, Lady Gao, is the daughter of King Le’an of Northern Qi. His uncle is Master Gao Shilian, a prominent official—all from illustrious families. If others hear your words, you’ll bring trouble upon us." As Zhang Miaoke stroked my head, she scolded both her maid and me.

By this point, I had already transformed into a husky, stretching my neck so Zhang Miaoke could pet me more comfortably. I hoped she’d hold my head to her chest and keep stroking me a while longer...

Just as my mind drifted into wild fantasies, an irritating, discordant voice rang out from outside. "Brother Hao! Brother Hao! Are you in there?"

Who the hell is that?