Oops! The Black Lotus Can’t Be a Female Supporting Character

CHAPTER 14

Although Duke of Wei did not believe this young girl could cure his illness, he showed no sign of disdain. Instead, he asked in a gentle tone, “May I ask for your surname, Miss?”

As he observed Xiao Yanfei, she, too, was carefully examining his symptoms. Her gaze lingered momentarily on the bloodstained handkerchief, her eyes narrowing slightly.

At the same time, she responded with composure, “My surname is Xiao.”

She cupped her hands in greeting. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.” Then, turning to Gu Feichi, she asked, “Young Master Gu, do you have your father’s medical records?”

“Uncle Li,” Gu Feichi called.

Uncle Li immediately retrieved a stack of medical records and handed them over, his eyes filled with doubt.

This girl looked no older than fifteen or sixteen. Even if she knew medicine, how many illnesses could she have possibly encountered? Could she truly cure an ailment that had left even the imperial physicians helpless?

He turned toward Gu Feichi, hesitation evident in his expression.

Xiao Yanfei, however, had already lowered her head, carefully studying the silk-bound medical records.

The stack contained not only diagnoses from the Imperial Medical Bureau and Wancao Hall but also prescriptions they had written.

Xiao Yanfei flipped through the medical records one by one at an impressive speed. She couldn’t help but marvel at Princess Ning Shu’s remarkable memory—everything the princess had relayed about Duke of Wei’s symptoms the day before was spot on. However, the medical records provided even more detail, noting specifics such as a thin yellow tongue coating, rapid and forceful pulse, thick phlegm mixed with saliva, persistent coughing, and labored breathing.

By the time she finished reading, she had a rough diagnosis in mind. Still, for appearances’ sake, she reached out to take Duke Wei’s pulse, adopting a focused and serious expression.

In reality, she could discern very little.

Traditional Chinese medicine required specialized study, and as an elective student, her skills were limited to identifying basic pulse types—floating, deep, slippery—hardly more than a superficial understanding.

This made diagnosing the illness her biggest challenge.

After all, pneumonia and tuberculosis shared several overlapping symptoms—coughing, fever, blood-tinged sputum—which made distinguishing between them difficult.

In modern times, a diagnosis could be confirmed with blood tests, sputum analysis, and imaging scans.

But this was ancient times. None of those tools existed!

Fortunately, ancient medicine was not without its brilliance. The imperial physicians were the best of the best, their pulse-reading techniques so refined that Xiao Yanfei could only look up to them in awe.

She might not be able to read pulses—but she could read medical records!

In that moment, Xiao Yanfei felt a deep sense of gratitude toward her professor for holding even elective students like her to strict standards—making them memorize prescriptions and study medical records relentlessly.

She couldn’t claim to be an expert, but she had learned enough to grasp the essentials.

Combining Duke of Wei’s symptoms with the records at hand, she could now confirm with certainty—he was suffering from pneumonia.

And not just any pneumonia—it was on the verge of developing into severe pneumonia.

If it progressed any further, it could lead to respiratory failure or even multiple organ dysfunction, a condition far beyond the reach of mere herbal treatments.

She had arrived just in time.

With the diagnosis settled, a wave of relief washed over Xiao Yanfei. Her tension eased, and a smile flickered across her face.

Using her mental connection to her emergency medical kit, she retrieved moxifloxacin, paracetamol, and cough medicine—though she made it seem as if she were simply pulling them from the small wooden box she carried. Then, she asked for a cup of warm water.

Careful to avoid anything too difficult to explain—like capsules or cough syrup—she chose only tablets, repackaging them into three porcelain bottles.

“This dark red pill is for… uh, pus reduction,” she said, catching herself mid-sentence. “One per day, taken at this exact time.”

“This one is for reducing fever—one tablet per dose, three times a day. Each dose must be taken at least two hours apart, and no more than four times in a day.”

“The last one is for suppressing cough and clearing phlegm—one tablet per dose, three times a day.”

“These medications only need to be swallowed with water.”

Uncle Li hadn’t expected her to simply take the duke’s pulse so briefly—without even prescribing a formula—before producing pre-prepared medicine as if by magic.

He lowered his gaze to the scattered pills on the table, his thick brows furrowing deeply.

This… was medicine?

What kind of medicine looked like this?!

The pills found in medical clinics and apothecaries were usually dark brown or black, carrying the distinct aroma of herbs.

But these—these strange tablets in porcelain bottles—were either stark white or deep red, with peculiar shapes that didn’t resemble any medicine he had ever seen. The more he looked at them, the more suspicious they seemed.

Besides, medicine had to be carefully prescribed according to the patient’s condition. Could this Miss Xiao’s casually produced pills really be the right treatment?!

Uncle Li’s suspicions toward Xiao Yanfei deepened, his expression dark as still water.

This was far too reckless! He had never seen a physician treat an illness in such a careless manner.

Could she be some kind of traveling charlatan?!

Xiao Yanfei was well aware that the pills she had taken out might seem unconventional, but they were still far more acceptable than capsules or IV drips.

With a perfectly serious expression, she explained in a measured tone, “These are called medicinal tablets, a secret formula passed down within my sect—just like the honeyed pills you’re familiar with.”

Remedies like Ginseng Nourishing Pill and Angong Niuhuang Pill were also honeyed pills, made by binding finely ground medicinal powders with honey.

In ancient times, traditional Chinese medicine thrived because of its strong emphasis on lineage and inheritance. Most renowned physicians throughout history passed their knowledge down through father-to-son or master-to-disciple relationships, preserving their exclusive medical formulas—referred to as forbidden formulas.

Such formulas were closely guarded secrets, never easily shared with outsiders.

As the Lingshu Jing states: “These are the teachings forbidden by my master, for they may only be passed on through sacred oaths sworn in blood.”

And in the world of medicine, as long as something was presented as a forbidden formula, so long as it wasn’t too outlandish, few would dare to question it further.

Even if she was making things up on the spot, Xiao Yanfei showed not the slightest hint of guilt. She simply smiled, her expression bright and composed as she gazed at Gu Feichi.

The young girl’s large, cat-like eyes were striking—clear and distinct, like a night sky reflecting countless stars. Her confidence was unwavering.

Gu Feichi picked up one of the porcelain bottles from the table, uncorked it, and took a sniff. Then, he poured out a single white pill and examined it closely.

This pill bore some resemblance to the one Xiao Yanfei had given him yesterday in the Sutra Library, though it wasn’t exactly the same. Just like before, he couldn’t discern what ingredients it was made from.

Until yesterday, he had never seen medicine in this form before. When she first offered him those pills in the Sutra Library, he had been at least eighty percent doubtful of her medical skills.

But then, last night—

Xie Wuduan had suddenly developed a high fever and fallen unconscious. No decoction, acupuncture, or cold compress had been able to bring the fever down. Out of desperation, Gu Feichi had taken a risk and given him the pill Xiao Yanfei left behind. To his surprise, by the early hours of the morning, Xie Wuduan’s fever had started to subside, and he had even regained consciousness once.

And now, his father…

Gu Feichi turned his gaze toward the frail and weakened Duke of Wei, lying on the bed.

The imperial physicians had already warned him—his father likely wouldn’t last more than three to five days. If the fever didn’t break soon, he could fall into a coma at any moment.

And once he lost consciousness, he might never wake again.

Gu Feichi held the white pill between his fingers, rolling it thoughtfully.

“How many days does he need to take this medicine?”

“Start with three days,” Xiao Yanfei replied. “After that, we’ll reassess.”

She then picked up a brush and carefully wrote down the dosage for each medication, ensuring there would be no mistakes.

“And one more thing—stop all other medications for now.”

Some herbal medicines couldn’t be mixed with antibiotics, she thought. It was safer to put them on hold.

At this, Uncle Li, who had been struggling to hold back, could no longer remain silent. His voice was slightly stiff as he asked, “Miss Xiao, you mean… just these few pills alone will be enough?”

The imperial physicians and the most renowned physicians in the capital had already tried countless precious medicinal ingredients, yet none had worked. If they were to stop all other treatments now, wouldn’t Duke of Wei’s condition deteriorate even faster?

Despite the skepticism, Xiao Yanfei showed no sign of irritation.

Calm and composed, she replied, “The Collected Teachings of Luo Medicine states: ‘The simpler the prescription, the more refined the technique; the more complicated the prescription, the cruder the method.’”

“Prescribing medicine is like waging war—it relies on strategy, not brute force.”

“In other words, precision in medication matters more than quantity.”

Duke of Wei was momentarily stunned. When he looked at Xiao Yanfei again, a hint of admiration flickered in his once-indifferent gaze.

He found this young girl rather intriguing.

With a faint smile, he said, “Well said—‘A general wins by strategy, not by brute force.’ Both medicine and warfare are indeed matters of life and death.”

But as soon as he smiled, a coughing fit seized him. He coughed several times in succession, and Uncle Li hurriedly stepped forward to pat his back.

Once his breathing steadied, Duke of Wei took a few sips of warm water to soothe his throat before gesturing for Uncle Li to hand him the medicine.

Uncle Li hesitated, uncertainty flashing across his face but Duke Wei’s gaze was unwavering.

He knew he did not have much time left, and he had already made peace with death.

For the dead, there was nothing more to be concerned about. But the living… the living would be left with regret, weighed down by guilt and sorrow for the rest of their days.

If only to put his son’s heart at ease, he was willing to give it a try.

Duke of Wei took the first dose without hesitation.

Xiao Yanfei was quite pleased.

As a physician, she always appreciated cooperative patients who followed instructions without resistance.

“Your Grace, after taking the medicine, your fever should subside within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn to about half an hour. During your treatment, you must avoid alcohol and refrain from consuming spicy or greasy foods.”

Given his current condition, Duke Wei was unlikely to have much of an appetite, let alone drink alcohol. But as his physician, it was her duty to give these medical instructions.

Antibiotics truly were miraculous. Considering that Duke Wei’s body had never been exposed to them before, the medicine would work exceptionally well. Within three days, his pneumonia would show significant improvement.

And as long as he survived, there would be no need for her to be married off to “bring good fortune” to the household.

Her own life would be safe.

A win-win situation.

With that thought, her smile deepened, her cat-like eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

For some reason, Gu Feichi had the distinct feeling that her smile was one of self-assurance, as if she were silently declaring just how capable she was.

His sharp brows lifted slightly, and for the first time in days, the cold, rigid lines of his expression softened.

The heavy gloom that had been weighing on his heart suddenly felt a little lighter.

***