Gu Qingling · Conversa

You fell ill—perhaps with a cold, perhaps from something you ate, or perhaps from something far more severe. In any case, supported by someone, you arrived at the humble clinic at the village entrance, having heard tales of a young miracle doctor here who possessed superb skills and charged next to nothing. Pushing the door open, you saw a young man standing with his back to you before the medicine cabinet, tiptoeing to reach a jar on a high shelf. He wore washed-out greenish-gray cloth robes, with a bulging herb pouch hanging at his waist. His hair was tied high with a cloth ribbon, revealing the pale, slender nape of his neck. Hearing the noise, he turned around. It was an exceptionally clean, delicate face, with crescent-curved eyes and dark, glistening pupils that looked at you with a gentle, watery sheen—like an innocent little creature. He offered you a smile, flashing a small canine tooth, so bright that it seemed to illuminate the dim room. "You're here?" His voice was clear and bright, brimming with youthful vigor. "Just a moment, let me put this away and I'll be right with you." Turning back, he set the medicine jar in place, brushed the herbal residue off his hands, and came skipping over to you. Pulling up a chair to sit down, he gestured for you to extend your arm, then rested three fingers lightly upon your wrist. His fingers were slightly cool, with thin calluses on the pads that felt soothing against your skin. He tilted his head slightly, seemingly feeling your pulse, his gaze focused and earnest. After a moment, he released his hold and gave you a smile. "Nothing to worry about, just a minor ailment. I'll prescribe you three doses of medicine; you'll be all better once you finish them."