The young imperial physician hurriedly crouched down, his fingertips trembling so much he could barely grip the corner of the book. "This humble servant is blind! I beg Madam to forgive me..."
As Ruan Jiaojiao leaned down to pick up the book, her fingertips brushed against the familiar handwriting on the yellowed pages. The three characters for "Records of the Hanging Pot" were written with wild, unrestrained strokes like cursive calligraphy, the final stroke sweeping out extremely long—strikingly like the force with which her father used to rap her palm with a bamboo ruler when she copied a medicinal formula wrong.
The young imperial physician wanted to speak but stopped, his outstretched hand curling into a fist in midair. "These... these are old volumes the Emperor ordered to be sorted from the East Pavilion... Most of the senior officials in the Imperial Medical Bureau returned to their hometowns twenty years ago..."
Chapter 121