The silk spun by the medicinal spider was as hard as steel yet as soft as hair, and was the best treasure for stitching wounds.
The ghost doctor stared at the wound intently, not blinking, while controlling the medicinal spider.
The silk spun by the medicinal spider turned red in an instant as it was dyed with fresh blood. The tiny spider kept circling around, reconnecting the severed blood vessels with its silk.
It took a full hour for the medicinal spider to reconnect all the severed blood vessels. Sweat beaded on the ghost doctor's forehead as he raised his fingers and pulled the exhausted spider out of the wound.
The ghost doctor carefully placed the medicinal spider on his hand and walked to a huge cabinet by the wall. He came to a small compartment with a white jade stone in the shape of a bowl, which contained a restorative potion specially prepared for the spider.
After putting the spider in the potion, the blood on it gradually dissolved and stained the clear potion red.
After dealing with the spider, the ghost doctor returned to the bed, picked up a piece of handkerchief from the table, and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
The woman's fatal injury had been resolved, and the rest would be easy.
The ghost doctor ordered, "Three up, two right, ten up, eight right, sixteen middle, five left, each measured once and ground into powder."
Naturally, the one the ghost doctor instructed was me. Since I had come here many times, I began to assist him in various small tasks, such as finding medicine, grinding medicine, and decocting medicine, as I was the one who brought the wounded.
Following the ghost doctor's instructions, I skillfully found all the medicines he needed from his enormous medicine cabinet.
Soon, the herbs were ground into powder and poured into a bowl, which was then handed over to the ghost doctor.
Taking the bowl of medicine, the ghost doctor aimed it at the woman's wound and sprinkled the powder inside. After the powder was sprinkled in, the flesh and blood around the wound began to tremble with a sizzling sound.
The woman, who had been unconscious, grimaced in pain and made faint moans from her mouth. Cold sweat kept pouring out from her head and all over her body.
While pouring the powder, the ghost doctor used a silver forceps to pry open the woman's wound, allowing the medicine to penetrate deeper.
Once the powder entered the wound, it was quickly absorbed, and the flesh and blood that had been separated by the sword began to merge together due to the powder's effect.
As the flesh and blood healed, the ghost doctor gradually withdrew the forceps outward, and finally, when half of the powder was used, the woman's wound in front had already healed, leaving only a scar.
Then the ghost doctor ordered, "Turn her over."
I immediately flipped the woman over, with her back facing up.
The ghost doctor put down the pills and forceps, picked up the scissors, and cut the clothes on the woman's back into pieces. Then, as before, the powder was sprinkled inside.
The woman's painful moans became clearer and clearer, indicating that she was gradually regaining consciousness as her wounds healed.
Finally, the wound on her back was also closed, and the woman's life was saved.
The ghost doctor took off his outer clothes, removed his gloves, and let down his tied hair, his long hair flowing down in a smooth, emerald green wave.
"The clothes are all burned. Clean up this place for me," the ghost doctor instructed me before leaving the soiled room.
I flipped the woman over and wiped the cold sweat and drool from her forehead and mouth with my sleeve, smoothing out her tangled hair before beginning to clean up the room.
The clothes worn by the ghost doctor when he treated patients were never kept, so after cleaning up the place, I looked at the still-sleeping woman and left.
The ghost doctor sat on a chair at the door and handed me a jade bottle when he saw me come out. "Feed this to her," he said.
I took the bottle and sniffed it, detecting a sweet fragrance.
Seeing the ghost doctor glare at me, I quickly went back in and fed the contents of the bottle to the woman.
When I came back out and sat in another chair, the ghost doctor bluntly said, "Take that woman away from me tomorrow."
"Okay," I replied. I poured myself a cup of tea, and as I sipped the hot, fragrant tea, both the ghost doctor and I remained silent.
Neither the Ghost Doctor nor I spoke, we just sat there sipping tea in silence until nightfall. The stars twinkled in the sky and the Ghost Doctor finally put down his teacup and retired to his room.
I stayed behind, staring at the starry sky and reminiscing. Someone once told me that everyone has a guardian star silently watching over them in the sky, but I couldn't distinguish which one was mine among the myriad stars.
Early the next morning, the Ghost Doctor was already standing under the tree in the yard, furrowing his brow and studying something.
I went inside and saw the woman had regained her rosy complexion, so I picked her up and brought her over to the Ghost Doctor. He was tinkering with an ordinary willow tree, but with his unique eyesight, he could spot extraordinary features in ordinary things. To him, a rotten tree root that looked useless to others could be turned into a potent medicine with a little cultivation.
"I'm leaving," I bid farewell to the Ghost Doctor.
He didn't look up or respond, so I turned and left. Before departing, I plucked a resurrection flower from outside his door and pinned it on my head. I didn't know where the woman lived, but I assumed she couldn't have come from far away.
Eventually, I arrived at the center of the graveyard with the woman in my arms. There was a new grave with a tombstone made of withered wood that read "Wind Born, Rain Sound."
I didn't know the relationship between those two, but I was sure that one day someone would come to find me and tell me their story.
I took off the still-living flower from my head and buried it in the grave, and the ash-gray flower swayed in the wind, perhaps attracting the soul of someone who wouldn't return.
Just then, a frightened scream came from the direction of the withered tree forest, and when I turned around, the woman had already woken up.
Her face was full of fear, her almond eyes wide and round. In the moment I looked at her, she scrambled back in panic.
I didn't chase after her. Since she had already woken up, she could naturally find her way back home.
With nothing else to do, I lost my sense of direction in the vastness of the world. Standing in front of the grave, I looked at the name with envy.
Perhaps sensing my confusion, a message from the King of Hell came in time, "The wine of the River of Forgetfulness is good. Come have a drink."
I grinned and slipped into the new grave, where only bones and flesh remained.
Once I arrived in the underworld, I headed straight for the bank of the River of Forgetfulness. The water of the river was blood yellow, and the restless souls and ghosts struggling in it were unable to be reincarnated. I buried the wine by the riverbank, and it was brewed by the resentment of the lost souls and wild ghosts in the River of Forgetfulness. It tasted harsh and strong as it went down my throat.