On their way down the mountain, the group of young people quickly grew familiar with one another, their laughter echoing through the valleys. As the conversation flowed, Mo Wen listened quietly, piecing together fragments of Sora's story, like stringing scattered pearls into a necklace.
Sora wasn't supposed to be here. During the year of chaos and war, she had been just a baby swaddled in cloth, her parents consumed by the flames of battle. It was the village herbalist—known simply as Mr Yi—who had found her abandoned by the roadside, wrapped in tattered cloth. Without Mr Yi, she would have long since turned to bleached bones in the wilderness or ended up as prey for wild beasts.
Mr Yi had been a scholar in his youth, voraciously reading all kinds of books. Although he had taught himself medicine, his insight was sharp, his demeanor serene. When he noticed Sora's intelligence and quick wit, he decided to take her as his apprentice. The villagers only knew Mr Yi as a skilled physician, but no one truly understood his past. Whispers abounded—some said he had once been a close confidant of a great general, while others claimed he had been exiled to a distant border prison. Yet no matter what was asked, Mr Yi would simply smile faintly and say,"Life is but a dream—why dig too deeply into it?"
Mr Yi was indeed a mystery. His attire was always simple, his manner low-key, yet there was an unshakable calmness about him, as if he had seen through the illusions of the world. Some villagers swore they had once seen a general bowing respectfully to him as he departed from a military camp. Others insisted he had been imprisoned in the imperial capital for some secret crime and subsequently banished to the remote frontier. The rumors were endless, but Mr Yi never confirmed nor denied them. He would merely shake his head gently, unwilling to speak of it further.
Mr Yi saw clearly and lived lightly. He had long grown tired of the scheming and intrigue of the court, knowing all too well that the pursuit of power often came at the cost of one's conscience. In a world so chaotic, he chose to retreat to a small village at the edge of the empire, where he could live in peace and simplicity.
Yet even as he left the capital, the petty schemes of the court followed him. On the day of his departure, a powerful official mocked him openly, sneering,"Mr Yi, who would've thought you'd end up like this? Truly delightful!" His tone was dripping with condescension. Mr Yi, however, remained composed, cupping his hands politely and replying,"The rise and fall of fortunes is but the nature of the world. Who knows who will have the last laugh?" The official refused to let it go, continuing his insults with thinly veiled ridicule.
At that moment, a military officer escorting Mr Yi could no longer hold back. He shot a sharp glare at the official and said coldly,"You so-called officials are no more than tools—something others pull out when needed and toss back when they're done. What's there to gloat about?" His words silenced the crowd, leaving the gathered bureaucrats green-faced and speechless. Mr Yi simply shook his head, adjusting his sleeves as he walked away, as if none of it mattered.
Upon settling in the frontier village, Mr Yi began teaching the children to read and write. Since the village had no doctor, he also treated the sick and injured. His knowledge of herbal medicine came entirely from books, so he practiced cautiously, learning as he went. Twenty years passed in this way.
Sora grew up into a quiet and observant girl. While other children played and wrestled, she buried herself in Mr Yi's medical texts, devouring them with an almost desperate hunger. She often sat quietly, simply watching—every flower, every tree, every blade of grass and leaf caught her eye.
She could watch ants fighting for half a day. While other children gleefully stomped on ant colonies, Sora observed the tiny creatures' battles as if they were miniature armies clashing. At the end of such a spectacle, she would stand amid a field of tiny ant corpses, clasp her hands behind her back, and sigh,"For every general's triumph, countless bones are left to decay. When a dynasty thrives, the common folk suffer; when it falls, they suffer still." Mr Yi, overhearing her one day from the courtyard, stroked his beard and nodded approvingly."Well said."
But Sora's sharp mind extended far beyond observation. She possessed a level of composure and insight that belied her years. One day, Mr Yi took his apprentices into the mountains to gather herbs. During a break, he plucked a leaf from a bitter coptis plant, squeezed its juice onto his finger, and invited the students to taste it."As healers, you must understand the properties of every herb—the bitterness, the sweetness, the nuances of flavor."
The apprentices grimaced but obeyed, dipping their fingers into the juice and tasting it. They immediately doubled over, spitting and gasping from the unbearable bitterness, racing to the creek to rinse their mouths. Sora, however, stood quietly aside. After the others had tried, she dipped her finger into the juice and tasted it without so much as a wince. Mr Yi noticed and smiled faintly but said nothing. The other apprentices, puzzled and still complaining about the taste, failed to notice what Sora had realized—Mr Yi had used his middle finger to taste the juice but had dipped his index finger into the mouth. The rest had followed suit without question and ended up paying the price. Sora did not expose his trick, simply retreating to her room with a medical book in hand.
Mr Yi said nothing either, merely watching his grumbling apprentices with a rare trace of amusement. He returned to his book, sipping tea as if nothing had happened.
Suddenly, a commotion arose outside. Villagers came running, shouting,"Mr Yi! Mr Yi! Someone fell off the mountain—please save him!"
A group of men carried a bamboo stretcher, atop which lay a young woodcutter, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. The villager explained that the man had slipped on the rain-slicked trail and tumbled down the mountainside. His face was pale, and he groaned in agony, clutching his broken leg.
Mr Yi led the group into the main hall and began examining the injury. His expression darkened as he saw the wound—a deep gash split the leg to the bone, white splinters of bone protruding through torn flesh, while blood poured out in streams. The herbal compress applied by the villagers had already been soaked through. The metallic stench of blood filled the air.
For the first time in years, Mr Yi's hands trembled slightly."In all my years of self-taught medicine, I've never faced a wound like this…" he muttered under his breath. His hesitation was clear as he fumbled through his medical texts, searching for a solution.
The apprentices scrambled to grind herbs for a stronger poultice, but the bleeding wouldn't stop. The woodcutter's breathing grew faint, and he stopped crying out in pain, slipping into semi-consciousness.
"He's lost too much blood… We're running out of time!" Mr Yi exclaimed, sweat dripping from his brow. Desperately, he pressed an acupressure point on the man's philtrum to revive him while continuing to flip through the pages of his books.
The villagers, anxious but helpless, offered clumsy words of comfort."Mr Yi, don't worry. If you can't save him, there's nothing more to be done. You're the only doctor in these mountains—we understand."
Hearing this, Mr Yi's hands only grew shakier, deep wrinkles carving themselves into his forehead."In the capital, I stood calm before thousands of enemy troops—but this… this is worse."
Sora, frowning as she observed the chaos, finally stepped forward."Master, may I try the method you taught me?" she asked softly.
Time was running out, and Mr Yi, half-distracted, nodded without thinking, his hands still frantically flipping through books."Do what you can," he said.
And Sora prepared to act.