Chapter Forty: Compassion Does Not Mean Leniency

From a distance of ten meters, there were at least eight or ten servant girls and young attendants. She addressed them, “Those who are not staying, please group yourselves in threes and select a leader for each group to supervise. The first group is responsible for cleaning the rooms—make sure the Young Master’s chamber is well ventilated. The second group will handle washing the dishes—every bowl, chopstick, cup, and plate that has been used must be rinsed with running water at least three times.”

“Seer, what counts as running water?” a young maid in the crowd asked.

“Spring water, or water from a small river or stream, will do.”

“Yes!” they replied.

Very quickly, the servants organized themselves into groups and set about their respective tasks.

Once the crowd had dispersed, the Old Master said, “Seer, you just sent everyone away and made those arrangements—I suppose you have something to discuss. These are all my trusted people. Whatever you wish to say, speak freely.”

“You are most perceptive,” said Qin Xiaomo. “Though I have only been in your household for two hours, it is clear you truly love your son. Thus, may I speak frankly?” She leaned in and lowered her voice, “This illness is peculiar. It’s possible that someone… has poisoned him.”

The Old Master said nothing. His brow furrowed deeply, and he struggled to steady his breath. After a long while, he asked, “What does the Seer intend to do?”

“For now, the most important thing is to stabilize the Young Master’s condition.”

“Isn’t this already stable?”

“There’s oxygen during the day, but at night…” Qin Xiaomo was already considering how to assemble materials to make an oxygen tank.

“What is this ‘oxygen’?” the Old Master asked, perplexed.

“When the sun shines on these trees, they produce a gas that is beneficial to us, and in danger, it can save lives. That gas is oxygen.”

“Oh? Is that so? But what about at night, when there is no sunlight?”

Qin Xiaomo couldn’t help but admire the Old Master’s intelligence. “That is precisely what concerns me.”

“Does the Seer truly have no solution? Without oxygen, if his condition worsens again tonight, what then?” The Old Master was visibly agitated.

“Actually, I learned how to produce oxygen in my studies, though I’ve never tried it myself. I don’t know if it will work…”

Before Qin Xiaomo could finish, the Old Master’s voice trembled with hope. “If I have what’s needed, I will spare no expense. I beg you, Seer, save my son’s life.”

“Rest assured, Old Master. I will do everything I can.” Just then, the Third Young Master’s personal attendant returned. “Just in time. Please fetch some items for me. I need a large water jar, covered with a wooden lid; two metal sheets, one of zinc and one of copper, each a foot wide and three feet long; two wires; ten pounds of salt; ten lidded glass jars; a large tub with the top sawn off; and ten pieces of ornamental bamboo from the garden, each about the thickness of a finger, hollowed out through the center. That will suffice for now.”

“Hurry now, do as the Seer says,” the Old Master ordered. Though he did not understand, he had come to trust Qin Xiaomo gradually—for his son did seem much improved, and was even able to sleep, something he hadn’t done so soundly in days.

Soon, all the materials were gathered and piled in the courtyard below the Third Young Master’s room. Curious servants quietly gathered, whispering among themselves, wondering what was about to happen.

At that moment, a man with tanned skin and a sturdy build, his eyes keen and spirited like a soldier fresh from the barracks, strode in wearing fitted trousers with gaiters.

“Seer, this is Ding Zhan,” the personal attendant introduced. Ding Zhan nodded firmly, signaling that he had completed his assigned tasks. Qin Xiaomo smiled and nodded in greeting. The attendant continued, “Seer, you might not know my name yet. Things were chaotic earlier and there was no time to introduce myself. I am Pan An, though the Young Master calls me Little An.”

Qin Xiaomo couldn’t help but laugh at the name. “Who named you?”

“My father,” replied Little An, looking a bit confused by the laughter.

“Splendid, splendid.”

“From this moment, no outsiders are allowed into the courtyard. Assign guards to surround it, only trusted people may remain. If anyone tries to force their way in, tie them up.” Qin Xiaomo was wary of someone interfering during the construction of the oxygen device.

“Yes!” Ding Zhan and Little An replied in unison.

“By the way, where are the two who came with me?” Qin Xiaomo suddenly remembered Jiang Wei and the red-haired mole.

“They were taken to the side room for lunch. Should I call them now?” Little An asked.

“Let them eat first. It’s already afternoon and they’ve only just had their meal; let them eat their fill. Tonight, they’ll need to take turns on watch, so they should conserve their strength.” Qin Xiaomo herself did not feel hungry—she was too busy to notice. “Seer, I just had someone prepare a bowl of noodles. While it’s still hot, would you like to eat something?”

“No need. I’ll eat a potato in a bit to stave off hunger. You eat it; you’ve been busy all day and haven’t had anything.”

“I’m not hungry. If there’s anything you need me to do, just say the word.” Little An set down the noodles, but his stomach growled right on cue.

Qin Xiaomo, seeing that Little An was just a boy of sixteen or seventeen, felt a sisterly fondness for him—after all, she was now in her twenties. With a smile, she said, “I order you to eat your noodles. Nothing else.”

Little An blushed and rubbed his stomach, murmuring his thanks before finishing the noodles in a few quick bites, wiping his mouth, and hurrying to help.

In the main hall on the first floor of the east wing, Qin Xiaomo had salt spread across the bottom of the large jar. Two holes were sawn into the lid, just big enough for the zinc and copper sheets to pass through. Two wires were each wound around the sheets, a thick layer of wood shavings wrapped around both wires, leaving only the ends exposed, each dipping into a glass jar placed upside down in the tub filled with water. The prepared tub, glass jars, and wires were all in place.

At Qin Xiaomo’s command, the young attendants lifted the wooden lid and poured water into the jar until it was full, stirring with a stick before sealing it again to wait.

“What are all these jars and bottles for?” came a whispered inquiry from behind the rockery in the courtyard.

“Ding Zhan, who’s sneaking around over there?” Qin Xiaomo asked softly as she continued her work.

Ding Zhan glanced over. “Seer, I didn’t catch a clear look at the face, but judging by the figure, it appeared to be Yan Hong, the personal maid of the Second Young Master.”

“Keep an eye out. Anyone who asks about the Third Young Master’s room, take note and report to me later.” Qin Xiaomo thought to herself, whoever pokes around at a time like this is up to no good.

Time ticked by, and the sun outside was nearly set. They moved the Third Young Master inside, but no one really knew what they were waiting for—everyone simply watched the strange contraption with curiosity.

Qin Xiaomo was nervous. She could only hope her makeshift battery and electrolyzed water would really yield oxygen. She checked the glass jars for bubbles now and then, and watched to see if the salt in the big jar had dissolved. After about twenty minutes, bubbles finally began to rise from the two glass jars. Ecstatic, Qin Xiaomo cried out, “It worked!” She tested the gas with a burning stick—when the flame leaped, she capped the jar. In no time, she had prepared ten jars of oxygen for the Third Young Master, enough to last the night.

Qin Xiaomo punched a hole in a glass lid, just wide enough to fit a piece of ornamental bamboo. Xu Zixian then placed the other end beneath his nose. This method of inhaling oxygen was certainly ahead of its time, and word of it left everyone in the household awestruck.

Suddenly, Little An collapsed, vomiting and gasping for breath, his eyes rolling back.

Qin Xiaomo immediately recognized the symptoms—nitrite poisoning! Judging by the timing, the dosage was meant to be fatal. There was no time to think; she shouted, “Press the philtrum! Quickly, bring warm water and induce vomiting!”

After some frantic effort, Little An’s condition stabilized. Qin Xiaomo thought carefully: Little An had been by her side all along and hadn’t eaten or drunk anything—except for… that bowl of noodles!