Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a peaceful day. Shen Jiu got up early, made a simple breakfast for himself and his disciples and sent them to tend to the herb garden. That gave him a shichen to refine a batch of pills and sort through the herbs he had to collect elsewhere. Two days ago he discovered he had to collect more silver orchids when he was making qi-nourishing pills for his disciples. While he was at it he decided to look for three-yin flowers and sparkling purple ivy leaves necessary for qi-balancing elixir. And they never had enough of explosive peppermint and razor-leaved astragalus. The last one, as his shifu once explained, was not only beneficial to young mothers but could help nourish the body that went through taxing ordeals in childhood years. Shen Jiu drank his fair share of astragalus-based medicine in his first years with shifu.
So after he completed the list and his disciples returned after weeding the garden he set out up the mountain to look for whatever he could find. He trusted Ming Fei to watch over the other three almost as much as he trusted Wang Yun, the oldest of the four, with his kitchen. The most he expected from this day was burnt rice for dinner and apologetic faces of his disciples.
So why does he have to dodge the attacks of some ugly thing, something between a bear and a hedgehog, while keeping an eye on a passed-out young man in rich robes lying in the tall grass not even half a li away? Obviously because Shen Jiu couldn't walk away when he stumbled upon this idiot trying to kill the thing with his sword despite definitely having not enough strength for that. The man was wounded and bleeding profusely, but stubbornly tried to kill the creature. Shen Jiu as a healer felt responsible for the idiot that got hurt so close to his home. In ten years of his apprenticeship shifu instilled in him the sense of care one practicing medicine should have for the people around him. Of course, Shen Jiu is still only a man, he has flaws like anyone else does, but he would never forget nor disregard shifu's teachings. The man was his saviour, his parental figure and his support for ten years after Shen Jiu left the hellhole his fate threw him in.
The problem is: Shen Jiu is not even good at fighting. He knows some self-defence techniques and can hold his own just fine against lesser demons and beasts, but he has no experience or skill to go against a much stronger opponent. Now he has no choice as someone else's life depends on his ability to fight against the creature. He doesn't even have a sword and instead uses a fan and any plants he might infuse with his qi. This is one of his preferred attack styles due to his understanding of properties of different kinds of flora. But this still seems not enough. If it was only him he would've run long ago.
He curses the man lying in the grass and pushes more qi in his attacks. Never in his life has Shen Jiu felt as vicious as in hurtling strike after strike at the creature that he tries to protect himself and the stupid noble from. He breathes out the sigh of relief when it finally falls to the ground, yet adds an attack of qi-infused leaves. Better safe than sorry. Or dead. And Shen Jiu would be very sorry if he died here, he had four children to take care of at home. Cursing under his breath he makes his way towards the man, noticing his startlingly attractive features and a deep wound in his left side, too close to heart for Shen Jiu's comfort. Could it be that this man escaped the fate of a concubine in a rich household and found himself in danger? Anything could be true. Though concubines do not own swords, there is no evidence that the man hasn't stolen it on his way to get away from wherever he was.
"Let's get you to bed and treated," Shen Jiu mutters, lifting the dead weight of the man into his arms. Herbs will have to wait.
His disciples are tending to vegetable patch when he returns like obedient and filial children they are. Shen Jiu is twenty eight, the age when his life views are formed already, and he has recognised the ingenuity of his own shifu's ways of choosing disciples. Taking in someone from unfortunate circumstances will earn him loyalty and result in reasonably easy to teach disciples. Very much unlike all those rich brats that go to great sects, paying their way up to the top and demanding things from their teachers. Shifu had been a disciple of one before he left for good. He learnt his basics there but most of his knowledge was accumulated in years of wandering the lands and experimentation. Shen Jiu is grateful that shifu chose him to share his wisdom with, even though that choice was dictated by the blunt practicality shifu later taught him.
"Shifu, who is that?" Wang Yun exclaims.
"If I only knew," Shen Jiu mutters under his breath. Then he collects his wits and orders: "Ming Fan, prepare the bandages. Ming Fei, bring my herbs for treating poisoning and medicine for blood loss. Wang Yun, I trust you to boil water for clearing his wounds. Wang Yi," his gaze stops on his youngest disciple. Seven-year old looks at him with excited and trusting eyes. "With me," he finally decides and moves with purpose, determined to keep the man alive. Who knows how he managed to for so long, but now that they are in Shen Jiu's home it will be a task for Shen Jiu to snatch him from the death door.
It takes a moment for his words to sink in. Then his disciples scatter, hurrying to obey his directions. This is the first time someone severely wounded is brought to Shen Jiu's house and he understands the feeling of excitement mixing with anxiety in them. He was twice Wang Yi's age when he was taken in by his own shifu, a broken bitter thing unsuitable to become a healer. Yet, he remembers the first time they came across a wounded cultivator and shifu allowed him to assist. His hands trembled like branches in the wind and his voice turned thin when he tried to squeak out answers to shifu's questions. Wang Yun is only eleven and the twins are nine, if they don't make a complete mess out of it Shen Jiu will count the whole endeavor as success.
That and, of course, if they manage to save the man's life. Shen Jiu is a perfectionist, something shifu took great delight in after discovering this trait. He said that perfectionists make the best doctors because they never stop searching for better ways to help their patients. What Shen Jiu never heard from his shifu was the truth of how hard it is to lose a patient, how painful, even if you don't know a person. Shen Jiu always thought that his hatred for humanity in general will help him remain detached when attending to people. It turned out that his desire to be perfect won.
Once in his treatment room Shen Jiu starts disrobing his patient quickly and efficiently, completely unashamed about it. This is for a medical procedure, not some indecent attempt on the unconscious man. He has stopped being shy about nakedness long before his shifu had taken him in. Life in a brothel does that to a person. Fortunately, now he doesn't have to fear for his dignity when disrobing someone else. After all, no surgery can be done on a body covered in unnecessary layers of clothes. And it's just a body. Dozens of men saw Shen Jiu bare and did a lot of horrible things to his body. He at least will be professional and respectful, even though he touches this man without his consent. Especially since waking him up and asking for it is not an option.
Well, if the fool wanted to commit suicide in a doubtlessly original way, he should've done it far away from Shen Jiu's home. Shen Jiu has no desire to bury corpses practically in his backyard and looking for this man's family will probably be useless. He is needed where he is, not away on a wild chase to find someone who might have lost a stupidly attractive relative. So he will heal this man first and then either help him or tell him to go and kill himself somewhere far away from Shen Jiu’s mountain. After all, what if one of his impressionable disciples found the body?
Shen Jiu chances a glance at Wang Yi who observes him closely. She is the ever attentive one when it comes to his teachings. What he is really worried about is how quiet she is, but he supposes that it is to be expected after her first seven years of life with her family. Children from such backgrounds grow up faster, and Shen Jiu has to smother a tiny sprout of compassion. He cannot want to give them a normal childhood, he has picked them to teach them. Sooner or later all of them will see dead people, will feel life leaving a body under their own hands. It's better to start learning sooner, then there's a chance that they won't have to go through that experience too often.
“Shifu, this man has so many scars,” Wang Yi mumbles when he finally gets his patient out of all those layers of unnecessary, expensive and ruined beyond repair fabric.
She is right, the man’s torso is covered in scars, old and new alike, and Shen Jiu looks over them, his gaze cataloging. Those don't look like he has been mistreated or punished unless some sick bastard decided to use ferocious beasts as a method of punishment. So, the concubine theory is out too. But really, with how his body looks like this man must be a soldier, a mercenary or a cultivator. Those are the most probable occupations to receive these sorts of various injuries. Shen Jiu leans towards the last option because soldiers wear uniforms and mercenaries do not dress like noble-born concubines. Besides, most cultivators Shen Jiu has ever seen had above average looks, so that might explain the man’s appearance.
Oh, so this is one of the rich brats shifu told him about. They spend precious cultivation resources to advance their mediocre talents and elevate themselves even more above ordinary people. The only thing that holds Shen Jiu from scoffing is that the man’s life is hanging on the thread that is held firmly in his hands. For how much longer - he doesn't know.
He probes at his patient’s meridians carefully and is shocked to see the wide and perfectly developed system of meridians that are mangled, twisted and deteriorated to the point where Shen Jiu cannot say how that idiot could even hold a sword in his hand. That should be a result of some past injury that wasn't properly healed. The remnants of qi in his body and his defective cultivation must be the very thing that has kept him alive until this point. Unfortunately, it won't aid Shen Jiu in healing the man, though the fact that he can use his qi without the fear of severe backlash is reassuring.
Just when he finishes assessing the situation the twins return each with their own load of supplies. Ming Fei, the ever collected one of the pair, directs Ming Fan to spread the bandages next to the healing salves for easier access. Shen Jiu shudders to think what could become of this boy without his sister at his side. Thankfully that is no longer a possibility as Shen Jiu takes safeguarding his disciples pretty seriously.
He looks over the bottles and jars Ming Fei puts on the table in orderly fashion and holds back his smile. With her dedication and diligence she will make a fine doctor one day, and he is proud of being the one teaching her everything he himself knows. Long before he took in any disciples he promised his shifu that he will never choose favourites. But Shen Jiu has to be blind to not notice that out of the four Ming Fei had the highest aptitude for healing arts. That doesn't mean that he will not give his best to teach others.
As Wang Yun returns with warm water and rugs - smart girl, Shen Jiu praises in the privacy of his mind - his focus returns to his patient.
“I will clean the wound in his side,” he announces along with taking action. “Wang Yun, clean the scratches on his torso and right arm. Wang Yi, I will trust you with drying those before your shixiong will use the antiseptic ointment and bandages if needed.”
He hopes that there will not really be a necessity. Ming Fan is horrible with bandages, though he clearly puts an effort in learning. With time he will become better at it, Shen Jiu will make certain of that. For now his skills will have to suffice. After all, it might be that bandaging actual wounds of a living person - and Shen Jiu will make certain that the man is living after he finishes - will leave more impact on Ming Fan’s skills than training on some pieces of wood or his martial sisters.
“Ming Fei, you will be assisting me at this side,” he adds. The children all spring into action, proud of being given real tasks, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant. Shen Jiu breathes out in relief and starts narrating his actions: “If there are any open wounds, your priority as a doctor is making them clean and disinfected. Boiled water is the best option, but if you don't have time or access to it, fresh water would do. Now, rule number one?”
“Never use puddle water to clean wounds,” his disciples chorus to his satisfaction.
Shen Jiu hums and carefully removes dried blood and some dirt from the patient’s side. How it got there is a curious question, but Shen Jiu has no time to contemplate the answer, nor does it really matter. His job is simple: cleaning, checking for organ damage, stitching and bandaging. He easily falls into familiar routine, all moves drilled into him by his shifu long before this particular man found his way onto Shen Jiu's treatment table.
Keeping half an eye on his disciples proves to be difficult when there is a large and potentially life-threatening wound that needs to be treated as soon as possible. He wonders how shifu made it look so effortless when he has to actively remind himself that there are disciples for him to teach here. Then he reminds himself that it's been only a year since he's taken in Ming Fan and Ming Fei. Shifu had many of them even before Shen Jiu. Practice creates perfection, he will get a hold on it with time. For now he has to do his best and reflect on his teaching methods later.
After the wound is finally clean Ming Fei rushes to dry the edges with clean linen stripes and he has half a moment to check in his other disciples’ progress. The expression of concentration on Ming Fan’s face as he treats the scratches on the patient’s torso almost makes him chuckle. He catches himself in time because he knows how insecure one could be when being entrusted with a task they have never done before. It's good that Ming Fan is taking it seriously instead of dismissing the things he has to deal with as small issues.
It is only logical that a good doctor has to focus on the most pressing problem in any given case. But after it is resolved, all the other ones have to be taken care of as well. Perhaps, he underestimated Ming Fan and didn't give him due credit for his efforts. Shen Jiu vows to himself to be more attentive from now on.
After they finish with this troublesome man.
“Now, Ming Fan is doing well by putting disinfectant on all of those scratches. Can anyone tell me the reason?”
“There are no insignificant wounds,” all three girls answer, though not as perfectly in sync as the first time.
Ming Fan blushes and ducks his head, but his hands grow more steady as he works. Shen Jiu marvels at the sight. Who knew that some praise could do this much good for the boy? He allows Ming Fei to handle the same task with the large wound, keeping an attentive eye on her work because this one is definitely the most threatening.
“That’s right,” he continues his impromptu lecture. “Sepsis is not a pleasant thing to deal with and if not treated in time everything might end with an amputation or even your patient’s death. It might be less dangerous to cultivators, but you should never take unnecessary risks.”
Satisfied with soft noises of understanding Shen Jiu moves to proceed with the next part of the treatment.
“Checking the wounds for the signs of poison is imperative to quick and full recovery,” he narrates, inspecting the edges of torn skin and flesh. There are no alarming discoveries, but Shen Jiu knows better than to simply trust his eyes. So he takes his set of silver needles out.
They are easily the most expensive thing he owns. Shen Jiu is not overly tied to worldly possessions, there is no use for luxurious things when simple ones can serve as good as anything. Though he will be the first one to stress how important it is for the healer to have high quality tools. Of course, there's a fundamental difference between a tea set that costs like a small family's home and a medicinal instrument. Tea sets, after all, are not meant for saving people's lives. So for the two years after his disciple days were over Shen Jiu travelled between big and small settlements and offered his services for money just to buy the necessities for his work.
The needles, though, are a gift from his shifu and that is why Shen Jiu treasures them even more. He will have similar ones made for his own disciples to give when they finish studying under him. That will be a nice investment in their future careers as healers, something to remember him by when all of them are grown up and walking their own paths.
“Shifu,” Wang Yi calls, curiosity coloring her voice. Shen Jiu hums to encourage her. “Is it always necessary to check for poison?”
“That is a good question,” Shen Jiu praises. He can't hold a small huff as Wang Yi beams at his words. “Ideally you should do that with every wound of an unknown origin. That being said, if a villager got his foot sliced with a hoe, you know that there's little chance of him coming in contact with a poison. But if you have to deal with a stabbing wound made with an unknown weapon of wounds left by beasts, that will be a question of life and death.”
Of course, he won't tell them for now that at times there is no right choice, only bad and worse. You can gamble and forgo poison check to try and save the patient from bleeding out only for them to die in excruciating pain. Or you can be as meticulous as ever and then not fast enough to save the patient from blood loss or organ failure. Healing people is a path full of hard choices and heartbreak, but Shen Jiu will tell these children about it with time. They don't have to know all the gruesome details before they are facing a problem or, at the very least, before they are twelve.
If one asked Shen Jiu why he chose the age of twelve he would come up with something. Anyway, his disciples are too young and not yet ready for all the truth.
He raises his gaze from the man he has started stitching and nods in satisfaction at the looks of understanding on his disciples’ faces. At their age he was still a brat running around with Qi-ge…
He cuts that thought before it even forms completely in his head. Qi-ge is either dead or left him to die, so they will never meet again. Shen Jiu should stop thinking about him, at least while he operates on the man that can still die under his hands if he doesn't pay attention. He refuses to lose one of his patients because of something so mundane and ridiculous as feelings. He will find some time for that later.
Shifu used to say that Shen Jiu is stubborn like a mule. The statement never seemed like praise, but shifu was for some reason certain that stubborness will help Shen Jiu a lot on his chosen path. Only after some time of living alone did he come to understand that shifu, as usual, had been right. His stubbornness and pride are two things that make him keep going when he could simply let nature have its way with a person. Out of his disciples only Ming Fan has the same mental disposition, or at least as close to what Shen Jiu had as possible, though that child at least lived at home and wasn't abused day in and day out.
“Now, pay attention everyone,” he reminds his disciples, and has to take a shuddering breath because suddenly he is almost crowded against the table with an unconscious man that he has to finish stitching. “Stitching wounds on living humans is much more different than your practice mannequins.”
Thankfully, the children keep quiet and he is able to concentrate on the task at hand. If only his own head was as quiet as them. Shen Jiu has to repeat the simple instructions shifu gave him when he just started his education to the point of them almost turning into a mantra. If he falls into a meditative state while putting together the giant wound in some pampered sect cultivator's side, that would be hilarious. Advancing his cultivation while the poor bastard lies in front of him with his mangled meridians and fractured and fragile golden core - what a joke.
Shen Jiu would never harm one of his patients, he was taught better by his teacher. But it doesn't mean he cannot gloat a little in the privacy of his own head. All that posturing about the greatness of the sects and here one of theirs lies, life dependent on Shen Jiu, a simple no one taught medicine and cultivation by his wandering shifu.
When his work is finally over Shen Jiu sends his disciples to clean and put away the supplies and only when they are out of the room allows himself to lean heavily on the closest surface. Tending to this one man was far more exhausting than most things he ever has dealt with, excluding perhaps childbirth. There's nothing more horrendous than that and every time Shen Jiu feels a great deal of respect and admiration for women that go through the pain and hardships to bring their children into the world. Though he also thinks that killing the child in the womb is far more merciful than giving birth to it only to abandon it on the streets or sell it to slavers. At least then you won't be sentencing an innocent soul to the life of suffering.
He shakes his head and moves slowly to lower himself into a chair, not overly comfortable but sturdy and just what he needs right now. His spiritual energy is depleted, a feat in itself if one would take into account his vast reserves. But of course fighting a beast and then dragging a bleeding and fucking heavy man to his home to have a difficult surgery would do that even to someone like him. While Shen Jiu tries to not take excessive pride in his cultivation, he remembers being exhilarated at the praises he received from his shifu for his natural talent. Even though he started cultivating late, he reached the heights many others his age couldn't even dream of. And everything thanks to the kindness shifu showed him.
Shen Jiu shudders to think what would've happened to him if not for shifu. He probably would've been long since dead. Even though Shen Jiu has always been a survivor, some things are impossible to survive. Everyone has their own breaking point, and while Shen Jiu wasn't close to his, he would've reached it sooner or later. Everyone does. He isn't certain what he would've done then, maybe just silently killed himself just to be free, maybe took away with him Qiu Jianluo or some other sick bastard. Shen Jiu just knows that without shifu there was no happy ending for him.
Though he wouldn't say he is happy now. He is content. He has his life and his freedom, many years ahead and respect of people who, when learning that he is a cultivator, almost fall over themselves trying to flatter him. In those moments he wants to laugh. If only they knew.
They probably couldn't imagine even in their wildest thoughts that the one they all are bowing to is a former slave, the lowest of scums despised by many for what their society made him to be. Personally Shen Jiu finds it funny how they would act around him, how the tides turned so that now he is on the top. The heavens are cruel, yes, but the gods, if they exist, can make a good joke, and Shen Jiu finds enough sense of humour in himself to appreciate it. At least he knows and can laugh at the expense of those fools who curse prostitutes, homeless people and slaves in one breath and sing him praises in another.
He just so loves the power he has over people.
Whoever said that the ones holding the power were nobles, emperors or sect leaders, that person has never been seriously ill. Because all of those bow before the doctor who holds their very life in his hands. They all would beg him to save their loved ones, they all would spare no riches to heal themselves, they would give up fortunes and heirlooms just to live longer, just to be healthier. With his talent and his skills Shen Jiu could have the world at his feet if he wanted.
He doesn't.
He loves his freedom too much to give it up for money or prestige, more than probably anything that could find a place in a heart as tainted as his. And shifu is the one who gave him this freedom back, so Shen Jiu will always follow his teachings and uphold the principles of medicine. He wants to be a good healer, if only to honour his shifu, and spare some of the less fortunate children from the fate he had. Thankfully, shifu never expected him to be kind and compassionate, only professional, and that's why Shen Jiu finds it so easy to be a doctor. Professional means caring about his patients’ health, not their offended sensibilities, it means being considerate where their condition demands it, but not coddling them or catering to their every whim. If he had to do that, it would be not that different from the life of a slave and Shen Jiu hates even the slightest reminder of that.
For some inexplicable reason shifu always said that he should be proud of who he was. That it was a sign of his strength that he survived all the hardships that fell on his shoulders and came out of it a good person. Shen Jiu thinks that shifu had too much faith in him.
He is not a good person. He is not selfless or brave or honourable, he does things only because it has some benefit to him. Him actually continuing on the path of a healer is a way of repaying shifu’s generosity and bringing food to his table. Taking in the children is pragmatic because, as shifu himself said, grateful children make the best disciples. Even healing villagers without payment has its purpose as they bring him things, even if it's only some rice or vegetables, repair his furniture in exchange or give him discounts on his clothing. They repay him anyway and sometimes the ways they choose are much preferable to gold and silver.
So no, there's nothing good in him. Perhaps, there never was. It might be the reason Qi-ge never returned for him. He must've seen that Shen Jiu was not worth saving.
It's none of Shen Jiu's problem. He is alive, he is well, he even doesn't have to bow to anyone, like he would've in some big sect where there's hierarchy and he would've had to start from a simple lowly disciple bending to the will of every pretentious young master or mistress only because they family had some importance. Since being taken from the brothel the only person he had to pay his respects to was shifu, and the man despised formalities and protocols almost as much as he did all those sects.
Now it's even better because if someone doesn't like Shen Jiu's behaviour or his methods of treatment they are welcome to fuck off and find another healer. One less problem for him.
Though, now it seems like there's one more problem because the one he managed to save is some young master from one of those sects. Sighing, Shen Jiu massages his temples, feeling an upcoming headache from dealing with his newest patient. He can already imagine all the demands and insults that will pour his way when the man regains his consciousness. To his own bewilderment he finds that he would rather attend a birth or even two.
In the quiet of the room Shen Jiu's laugh sounds even more bitter and exhausted than ever.