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

CHAPTER 15

Xiao Yanfei didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she instructed Uncle Li to light an incense stick to keep time.

It was possible for a patient to have an allergic reaction when taking antibiotics for the first time, so she needed to monitor the Duke of Wei’s condition after he took the medicine.

If he suffered an acute allergic reaction and the doctors here didn’t know how to handle it, then she wouldn’t be saving a life today—she’d be endangering one.

With a gentle voice, Xiao Yanfei reassured him, “Your Grace, please rest for a while. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

“I’ll leave once your fever subsides.”

She mentally calculated the time. As long as his fever went down and no adverse reactions occurred, he should be in the clear.

The Duke of Wei nodded and maintained his half-reclined position, closing his eyes.

The room fell into a quiet stillness, punctuated only by the occasional, suppressed cough.

With nothing else to do, Xiao Yanfei found herself glancing at the incense stick from time to time, watching it burn slowly.

Waiting was unbearably dull. To pass the time, she picked up the stack of medical records and prescriptions beside her and began committing them to memory. These were invaluable—rare treasures one couldn’t simply buy at a bookshop.

She was halfway through when Gu Feichi, who had been resting with his eyes closed, suddenly stood up and strode toward the window.

Caught off guard, Xiao Yanfei lifted her head from the silk-bound papers in her hands, puzzled by his abrupt movement.

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

A flurry of urgent, chaotic hoofbeats echoed through the streets outside, the sound of iron horseshoes striking the stone-paved roads of the inner city ringing sharply in the air. The approaching hoofbeats grew clearer and more distinct.

Shouts of “imperial guards!” and “Make way!” rose above the commotion, interwoven with an excited male voice exclaiming, “I heard the Imperial guards are searching for Xie Wuduan!”

“They must be,” an elderly woman declared with conviction. “Xie Yimo and his son rebelled, killing so many people. They deserve nothing less than death! They should be executed by slow slicing—ground to dust!”

“Exactly! Xie Wuduan must not be allowed to escape!”

Their voices, brimming with righteous indignation, carried clearly to the second floor, where the group inside heard every word.

Gu Feichi’s thin lips pressed into a tight line as he pushed a window open just a sliver, peering down at the street below.

His long, dark lashes cast a faint shadow on his fair cheeks, accentuating the elegant, elongated shape of his eyes. There was a hint of cold detachment in them, his entire presence exuding an air of deadly precision.

The Imperial guards were here!? What kind of timing was this?!

Xiao Yanfei’s heart pounded in alarm. She instinctively glanced at Gu Feichi.

Sensing her gaze, Gu Feichi turned his head, his eyes locking onto hers with pinpoint accuracy.

Xiao Yanfei quickly raised both hands in surrender. “It wasn’t me.”

She hadn’t betrayed him!

“I know.”

Gu Feichi’s lips curled into a faint smile, his gaze settling on her delicate fingers, which had unconsciously curled inward—like a cat retracting its claws.

The sharp, icy aura surrounding him seemed to soften with that single smile, melting away like winter snow under the sun.

Seeing the genuine ease in his expression, Xiao Yanfei relaxed. He really didn’t suspect her making a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes.

Emboldened, she leaned closer to peer outside.

Down on the street, two Imperial guards officers, clad in flying fish robes with embroidered spring sabers at their waists, reined in their horses sharply in front of Wancao Hall’s entrance.

“Sirs, how may I assist you?”

The shop attendant hurried forward, his smile stiff with barely concealed apprehension.

One of the Imperial guards, a burly officer with a bristling beard, swung down from his horse and demanded forcefully, “Since yesterday afternoon, has anyone with a knife wound come for treatment or bought any wound medicine?”

The shop attendant answered respectfully, “Replying to the officer, the only case we had was a child who cut himself with a kitchen knife this morning. Aside from that, no one. I was here at the clinic yesterday as well, so I’m certain.”

“You are not to sell any wound medicine for the time being,” the bearded Imperial guards ordered from his lofty position. “If anyone suspicious with a knife wound comes seeking treatment, report them to the authorities immediately! If you harbor a fugitive, you will be charged as an accomplice!”

“Do you understand?!”

The attendant hastily nodded, replying “Understood” over and over, his face pale with fear.

“Move out!”

With that, the two Imperial guards spurred their horses and rode off, the arrogant clatter of hooves fading down the street.

As they disappeared into the distance, the street gradually returned to life, with vendors resuming their lively calls, filling the air with noise and bustle once more.

“The fever has gone down!” Uncle Li suddenly shouted excitedly. “Young Master, His Grace’s fever has broken!”

Gu Feichi hurried back to the bedside, reaching out to check the Duke of Wei’s forehead. His face lit up with relief. “Father, your fever is gone.”

Meeting his son’s bright, joyful eyes, the Duke of Wei felt a mix of emotions. How long had it been since he last saw this child so happy?

Uncle Li’s eyes shone with excitement, turning red with emotion.

When Xiao Yanfei had confidently claimed that the Duke of Wei’s fever would subside within the time it took for an incense stick to burn, he had been skeptical.

But now, as he looked at Xiao Yanfei again, his gaze had completely changed—gone was the doubt, replaced with newfound respect. If she could save His Grace, he would be more than willing to revere her like a deity.

Even without a thermometer, Xiao Yanfei could tell that the Duke of Wei’s complexion was no longer flushed. His fever had indeed broken—and, more importantly, there were no signs of an allergic reaction.

However, while the Duke of Wei’s fever had temporarily subsided, it was merely due to the fever-reducing medication taking effect. Only when the antibiotics began working and the lung inflammation was brought under control would his fever truly break, allowing him to recover gradually.

Xiao Yanfei picked up a brush and wrote down a recipe for homemade electrolyte water. She reminded him, “Your Grace, fever causes excessive sweating, which can lead to dehydration. In addition to drinking plenty of water, you should also drink two to three cups of this sugar-salt solution daily.”

“Your fever has gone down for now, but don’t let your guard down. In about two hours, once the medication wears off, the fever may return. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight, so don’t worry or become impatient. Also, remember—never take extra doses of the medicine. Even the best remedies have their risks, and overuse can be harmful.”

“I understand.” The Duke of Wei nodded, and Uncle Li, standing beside him, repeatedly bobbed his head in agreement.

With a bright smile, Xiao Yanfei rose and prepared to take her leave.

“Your Grace, Young Master Gu, I’ll be heading off now.”

“If anything seems amiss, the young master knows where to find me.”

“I’ll return in three days for a follow-up examination.”

“I’ll see Miss Xiao out.” Uncle Li personally escorted her downstairs.

Beyond the closed door, the sound of hurried footsteps—thump, thump, thump—faded as she descended.

The breeze from the slightly open window carried in a few delicate pink petals, swept from the treetops outside.

Gu Feichi cast one last glance at the street below, watching Xiao Yanfei’s departing figure before shutting the window firmly, sealing out the wind.

Turning back, he handed a cup of warm water to the Duke of Wei and asked softly, “Father, would you like to rest for a while?”

The Duke of Wei drank the entire cup in one go. Then, as he stared at the empty cup in his hand, his expression grew complicated.

He had been running a fever for days. At first, the imperial physicians’ prescriptions had some effect, but later, no matter how much medicine he took, the fever refused to subside.

Yet now… it was gone?

During his fever, his body had been weak, his head clouded with dizziness and pain. But now, the dizziness was gone, and his hands—once limp and powerless—felt noticeably stronger.

Could it be that the young woman had truly cured him?

A ripple stirred in the stagnant waters of his heart, a faint glimmer of hope rising within him.

Of course, he didn’t want to die.

If he died, his son would truly be alone in this world—without support, without protection.

The road ahead would be difficult, and he couldn’t let his son bear it all alone.

He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t let go.

Summoning his remaining strength, the Duke of Wei tightened his calloused hand around the empty cup and asked in a low, steady voice, “A’Chi, have you settled things for Ziyuan?”

Xie Wuduan, courtesy name Ziyuan.

The Duke of Wei had watched him grow up. Even the name “Ziyuan” had been given by him.

“Father, don’t worry. I’ve made all the arrangements.” Gu Feichi tucked the blanket around him, his voice firm. “Ziyuan will be fine.”

The Duke of Wei closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his gaze was tinged with sorrow, his eyes slightly red.

“The Xie family has served with unwavering loyalty for generations… and yet, your Uncle Xie has met such a tragic end.”

Xie Yimo was born into a family of generals. At eighteen, he became the top military scholar and went on to fight for the Jing Dynasty on countless battlefields.

A master strategist, he excelled at unconventional warfare, participating in hundreds of battles over the past two decades—without a single defeat. Under his command, the Bei Di tribes dared not invade for ten years, and his name became legendary across the land. The people of the northern border were so grateful for his protection that nearly every household set up a longevity tablet in his honor.

Had the dynasty not abolished the practice of granting noble titles since its founding, Xie Yimo’s achievements would have undoubtedly earned him a marquisate. And yet, in the end, he died so disgracefully.

“If only…” Gu Feichi started, but his voice faltered. His pale lips pressed together, and his ink-dark eyes grew even darker, like a pool of unfathomable depth.

If only he had been in the capital these past two months—perhaps he could have saved Xie Wuduan’s mother, Princess Zhaoming.

But there were no “ifs” in this world. The dead would not return.

And yet, the world still praised the emperor’s mercy—for allowing Princess Zhaoming’s coffin to be buried in the imperial mausoleum.

The Duke of Wei let out a long, weary sigh, his eyes rimmed with red.

“Back then, there were four of us… and now, only I remain.”

He, his sister, Xie Yimo, and Zhaoming had grown up together—not just friends, but family. Now, they were all gone. He alone was left behind.

Before long, the Duke of Wei steadied his emotions and said to Gu Feichi, “You saved Ziyuan. His parents can finally rest in peace.”

A trace of sorrow crossed his gaunt face—grief so deep it left no room for words.

“Father, excessive worry harms the lungs. Your health comes first,” Gu Feichi said gently, taking the empty cup from his father’s hands. His voice was calm, steady. “Leave everything to me.”

The Duke of Wei let out a quiet “Mm,” his gaze settling on the young man before him.

The child he had raised with his own hands had grown into a man—a soaring eagle with strong, unshakable wings.

A faint smile touched the corners of his lips. With that, he closed his eyes once more.

This time, his expression was peaceful. The restless, intermittent coughs were gone.

Before long, soft, even breathing filled the quiet room—steady, undisturbed.

Leaning back against the cushion, the Duke of Wei had fallen into a deep, restful sleep.

“The duke has fallen asleep.”

From the doorway came Uncle Li’s deliberately hushed voice—hoarse and trembling, yet unable to hide his excitement.

He swiftly shut the door and strode over to Gu Feichi’s side. Looking at the Duke of Wei, who was now soundly asleep, his eyes reddened.

The duke had spent decades on the battlefield, and though he was a formidable warrior, he was still flesh and blood. His body bore countless old wounds, both seen and unseen. Last autumn, he had suffered another grievous injury in battle, prompting an imperial decree for him to return home and recover. Though his wounds had healed, his health had never truly regained its former strength.

This time, after being caught in the rain, the duke had fallen ill with a persistent cold. No treatment seemed to work, and it eventually worsened into lung abscesses. His condition deteriorated day by day—so much so that a trusted imperial physician had privately confided in the lady of the house, saying the duke likely wouldn’t last more than half a month…

And indeed, in recent days, his decline had been undeniable. He could barely sleep at night, waking repeatedly from bouts of violent coughing or struggling to catch his breath. It had been far too long since he last knew the comfort of a deep, restful sleep.

Uncle Li choked up as he spoke. “Young Master, the Duke wouldn’t let me tell you, but his coughing had worsened over the past two days. He hasn’t slept a wink for two nights.”

“But now, not only has his fever subsided, he’s stopped coughing too.”

“That Miss Xiao is truly incredible!”

His eyes shone with excitement as he looked at the Duke of Wei. The anxiety and fear that had weighed on him for days were finally replaced by pure relief and joy. His expression was radiant.

Miss Xiao’s prescription was different from the usual remedies, but there was no denying it—it worked.

***