Chapter 4

Julian began to visit Jiang’s Apothecary regularly.

Not for treatment, just to hang out.

He brought premium green tea, sweet pastries from the city's best bakery, and interesting news from the outside world.

He sat in his corner, and I worked in mine. We each minded our own business, occasionally exchanging a word or two.

Once, he picked up a prescription sheet I had written and flipped through it.

"Your handwriting has gotten really beautiful, and this herbal formula is incredibly elegant."

"Practice makes perfect. I used to be told my work was absolute garbage," I said flatly.

"You've always been amazing." He looked at me, his tone earnest. "Your father told my father years ago that his daughter’s talent for identifying medicine was a once-in-a-century gift. He said you were a natural-born healer."

My eyes stung, turning red.

This was the first time anyone had told me that my father had praised me.

Under Ethan's long shadow, I had always believed I was just a useless fool.

"The day I came here with my father when we were kids, he pointed at you while you were drying herbs in the yard. He said, 'That little girl's medical skills will definitely surpass yours in the future.'"

I lowered my head, pounding the herbs in my mortar with extra force.

The loud noise masked the tears that were about to fall.

Julian didn't say anything, quietly sipping his tea.

After a few sips, he suddenly asked, "Do you still receive a rare herb every autumn?"

My hands stopped.

"How do you know about that?"

"One year, I passed by your clinic and saw a package at the door containing a rare snow lotus. You were crouching there, opening it and looking around in confusion."

"That did happen. It's been going on for years. Every year is different—sometimes wild ginseng, sometimes rare mushrooms. I never figured out who sent them."

"You never checked the tracking number?"

"I did. The sender was always anonymous."

"Did they keep coming?"

"Yes, every year."

"Who do you think it is?"

I shook my head.

He was asking too many detailed questions. A thought suddenly crossed my mind.

I looked up at him. He still looked perfectly calm, head lowered as he drank his tea, his long eyelashes casting shadows that hid his expression.

Could it be him?

But as soon as the thought appeared, I crushed it.

No way. How old was he back then?

Besides, as the heir to a massive pharmaceutical empire, why would he send such expensive herbs to me year after year for no reason?

I was overthinking.

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "Probably some patient my father saved in the past."

Julian didn't push further. He set his teacup down and looked out at the drizzling rain.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just wondering."

He stood up and walked to the door.

"See you tomorrow."

The door clicked shut, and he was gone.

I sat behind the counter, holding the pestle, feeling as though a feather had gently brushed against my heart.

But it was just a fleeting sensation.

Who knew.

I lowered my head and got back to work.