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

CHAPTER 43 PART1

Seeing Xiao Yanfei smiling faintly, Xiao Shuo assumed she simply didn’t believe him.

With a solemn expression on his handsome young face, he explained, “The bowstring is made from braided ox tendon. Two strands are twisted together, and in sunlight, it should appear semi-transparent.”

He leaned over from his tall horse, holding the bamboo bow up to the light and pointing at the center of the string. “Look here—something’s off. It looks like something was applied to it. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be shining like that.”

Xiao Yanfei gently, but firmly, pushed his hand away and smiled again.

That smile spilled from her eyes—brilliant, radiant, and tinged with mischief.

“Xiao Shuo, didn’t you want to see?” she said slowly, her voice light and calm. “Then open your eyes and watch closely.”

There was something deeper behind her words, beneath that serene smile.

Xiao Shuo froze.

Then, without hesitation, Xiao Yanfei tested the bowstring, took an arrow from the quiver, and—composed and unhurried—pulled the bowstring back, aiming toward the target ahead.

“Second Sister, wait!”

Snapping out of it, Xiao Shuo hurried to dismount, trying to stop her. But he was too late. Before his feet even hit the ground—

Twang!

The sound wasn’t loud, but in Xiao Shuo’s ears, it was deafening—like thunder splitting the sky.

“Miss!”

The maid in green let out a piercing shriek. The tea in her hands crashed to the ground with a shatter, ceramic shards and tea spilling everywhere in a chaotic mess.

Xiao Shuo’s face went pale. Tossing aside the reins, he rushed to Xiao Yanfei in wide, urgent strides.

There she was—pressing a hand tightly to the right side of her face. Crimson blood seeped through her delicate fingers.

Her complexion had gone ghostly white. Clearly shaken, she stood frozen, blood having already dotted her collar and chest. The sight of it was jarring.

It had happened too quickly for anyone to react. The maid stood rooted in terror, her face drained of color.

“Miss—your face, your face…” she stammered in panic, circling aimlessly with no idea what to do.

“Second Sister!” The young man could no longer maintain his usual calm and elegant demeanor. Lips tightly pressed, his refined features were tense with worry.

He bent down to pick up the bamboo bow. The string had snapped into two clean halves. One segment of it was stained red, blood still sliding along its length and dripping down.

“I told you…” I told you so!

He wanted to say it aloud—but what use was it now? Swallowing the words, his face flushed with a mix of frustration and guilt.

Just then, a servant boy was heading their way, holding two new archery targets. He froze in place when he saw Xiao Yanfei bleeding, completely stunned.

“You!” Xiao Shuo pointed at the boy, voice sharp. “Go fetch the physician, now!”

“Y-yes, right away!” the servant stammered and bolted from the training yard.

“Miss, your face…” The maid in green was near tears, frantic but too afraid to touch her mistress without permission. Finally, she pulled out a plain white handkerchief and pressed it gently to the wound on Xiao Yanfei’s cheek.

The once-pristine cloth bloomed with red, like plum blossoms scattered across snow.

“Back to Yuechu Courtyard!” Xiao Shuo barked, unable to bear it any longer.

Startled into action, the maid scrambled to support Xiao Yanfei. “Miss, let me help you.”

The three of them hurriedly left the training ground. With Xiao Yanfei pressing the bloodied cloth to her cheek, she drew curious and startled looks from every servant they passed.

By the time they arrived at Yuechu Courtyard, the place had exploded into chaos like cold water poured into boiling oil.

Xiao Yanfei was quickly helped into the left wing. Some called for clean warm water, others anxiously asked whether the physician had arrived, and more whispered if they should inform the Dowager or Concubine Cui.

Xiao Shuo sat heavily in the front hall, still holding the broken bow. His back remained perfectly straight, every line of his slender frame full of noble restraint—and a young man’s quiet stubborn pride.

Soon, a maid passed by carrying a copper basin toward the east wing.

“Miss, your hands and chin are all bloody—please let me help you clean up.”

“Let me change the cloth on your cheek.”

“You’re still bleeding so much…”

The entire courtyard was on edge, unsettled and tense.

Before long, an elderly physician with silver hair and a thin frame arrived, led by one of the maids. His medicine case swung at his side as he hurried inside.

“Physician Han, this way—our Second Miss is inside.”

The red camellia-embroidered curtain lifted and fell behind him, cutting off Xiao Shuo’s view.

He stared at the fluttering curtain for a long, long moment before finally lowering his gaze.

In his hands, the snapped bowstring hung loosely, swaying slightly—like a rootless waterweed drifting in silence.

He took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the clean end of the broken bowstring. When he looked again, the once-pristine fabric was stained with faint yellow marks.

Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed—an unmistakably sour smell drifted up.

Someone had smeared vinegar onto the ox-tendon bowstring, slowly corroding it. That’s why it had snapped under tension.

Xiao Shuo’s eyes lowered slightly, his face tightening. A hint of grievance welled up in his ink-dark eyes. He had said the bow was unsafe.

If Xiao Ye had said it instead of him… would she have believed it?

She would have.

The answer surfaced in Xiao Shuo’s mind before he could stop it. A sour feeling bubbled up inside him, one wave after another—because he was the one who was actually her real younger brother.

A tangle of emotions churned in his chest, eventually settling into a single, heavy thought:

Her face—will she be all right?

Xiao Shuo furrowed his brows, lost in his own thoughts, when a soft, familiar voice called out, “Shuo’er.”

He turned toward the sound and saw Concubine Cui standing at the entrance of the hall with Shi momo, her eyes wide with surprise.

The moment he saw her, Xiao Shuo couldn’t help but recall the conversation he’d overheard after leaving the tea room in Tingyu Pavilion. His father’s cold words rang over and over in his ears like a nightmare: “That face of hers is nothing but a curse.”

A terrifying thought flashed through his mind like a lightning strike.

It was only early summer in May, yet the room suddenly felt bitterly cold, as though winter had seeped into his very bones.

Xiao Shuo didn’t want to believe it—but the timing… it was all too perfect.

His lips parted slightly, but his throat burned like fire. Not a single word came out.

In that moment, the towering structure he had once clung to in his heart collapsed into ruin.

His eyes stung and ached. Without thinking, his body moved faster than his mind—he reached to the side and grabbed a cloak, hastily covering the bamboo bow beside him.

“Shuo’er?”

Concubine Cui called to him again from beneath the eaves of the hall.

She had only paused for a moment before stepping over the high threshold, her skirt trailing behind her. The butterfly-patterned shoes peeking from under her hem were delicate and ornate.

Graceful and composed, Concubine Cui walked toward him and asked softly, “Why are you here?”

Before Xiao Shuo could answer, the curtain embroidered with red camellias was lifted from inside. Physician Han, dressed in a gray robe, emerged from the east wing, moving slowly and steadily.

Leading him was Haitang.

“Madam,” Haitang said respectfully, noticing Concubine Cui nearby and dipping into a curtsy. “This is Physician Han from the Hall of Ten Thousand Herbs.”

At her words, Concubine Cui no longer paid attention to Xiao Shuo. She turned toward the physician, her face filled with concern. “Physician Han, how is Second Young Miss’s injury?”

Physician Han stroked his snow-white beard and replied, “Concubine, the young lady suffered a gash to her right cheek from the bowstring. The cut is about two inches long and bled quite a bit…”

Xiao Shuo looked at Physician Han too, heart rising to his throat. His gaze was intense, almost pleading: Her face… it’ll be fine, won’t it?

“Will it leave a scar?” Concubine Cui asked, her fingers tightening around her handkerchief, knuckles pale.

“Please rest assured,” Physician Han said with a small smile, “The bowstring was thin—it’s only a minor injury. I’ll prescribe a healing ointment. As long as the medicine is applied properly, the wound will heal within a few days. There won’t be any scarring.”

“A young lady’s appearance must be handled with the utmost care,” Physician Han said. “Concubine, please remind Second Young Miss not to get the wound wet or let it come into contact with anything unclean.”

“Good, good!” Concubine Cui patted her chest repeatedly, letting out a long sigh of relief, her face filled with the look of someone released from a heavy burden.

Xiao Shuo also exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders. But just as the corners of his lips began to lift, they fell again. His gaze drifted toward the bamboo bow he had hidden beneath the cloak.

The light in his obsidian-black eyes suddenly dimmed, becoming deep and unfathomable.

In their depths shimmered a quiet blend of sorrow and steel.

His second sister had told him to open his eyes—and look carefully.

Xiao Shuo once again looked toward Concubine Cui. She was smiling as she gestured to the west wing and said to Physician Han, “Please come this way to write the prescription.”

Graceful and elegant, she moved like a willow in the breeze, holding a handkerchief delicately between her fingers. The pinky of her right hand was ever so slightly raised.

Xiao Shuo’s eyes fixed on that small gesture. He knew it well—it meant she was in an excellent mood.

His sister’s face was injured. Yet his “mother” was in an excellent mood.

Xiao Shuo closed his eyes, his entire body trembling faintly. A chill crept over him, as if winter had invaded the warm spring day.

A storm of emotions surged through him, threatening to drown him completely…

But the next moment, his eyes snapped open. Dark and unreadable.

He had to open his eyes. He had to see clearly.

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening. Without another word, he swiftly bundled the broken bowstring and bamboo bow tightly in the cloak. Then he strode out of the hall, not bothering to bid farewell to anyone.

Inside, Concubine Cui ushered Physician Han into the west room and instructed the servants to bring paper and ink.

Once he had written the prescription, she immediately ordered someone to fetch the medicine and then casually dismissed the rest of the staff—leaving only Shi momo standing discreetly near the door curtain, keeping watch.

Shi momo glanced outside cautiously, scanning for movement. After confirming no one was nearby and that Second Young Master had indeed left, she gave Concubine Cui a smile and nodded.

Concubine Cui calmly smoothed the intricate embroidery on her sleeve and said slowly, “Second Young Miss just secured an excellent marriage. In a few days, the groom’s family will come to confirm the betrothal. Physician, can her injury be healed in three to five days?”

Her eyes swept over Physician Han, assessing him.

He was plainly dressed—his gray robe neither new nor old—with a medicine pouch and a small carved seal hanging from his waist.

Hmm?

Her gaze landed on the pointed, tower-shaped seal at his side.

It was a semi-translucent amber-yellow, warm and finely textured, glowing in the slant of sunlight that filtered through the window. The seal’s radiant shimmer was impossible to ignore.

“Three to five days?” Physician Han shook his head at once. “Impossible. That’s far too soon. Concubine, it would be best if—”

“Physician Han,” Concubine Cui interrupted gently. From her sleeve, she produced a small porcelain jar, about the size of a baby’s fist, and placed it on the tea table with a soft clink. “This is Imperial Soothing Cream from the palace. It’s a miracle salve for treating injuries and preventing scars.”

“Please, Physician, use this for Second Young Miss,” Concubine Cui said gently.

Physician Han frowned, clearly hesitant, and didn’t reach for the porcelain jar.

***