Time Travel: My Comfortable Life After Going to the Countryside

"Now, I have found this ginseng. It may not be able to save you, but if it can make you feel a little better and keep you alive for another ten days or half a month, then it will be worth it. It will not have lived for more than a hundred years in vain."

As he spoke, he stopped looking at Dr. Han, picked up a small knife for cutting medicinal herbs from the table, and steadily picked up the ginseng with his other hand, saying...

"If you think I'm wasting things, then tell me how to make sure the ginseng's potency reaches your body as much as possible. If you don't want to tell me, then tell me."

He slightly lowered his wrist, the tip of the knife poised to slice, "Then I'll do it my way. Slice it, stew it in soup, and you can still drink it."

"You...you dare!" Dr. Han was so enraged by his rapid-fire words and reckless actions that her vision blurred. She was both anxious and in pain. Pointing her finger at him, she shouted, "You bastard! Put that down! That's a century-old ginseng! How can you act so recklessly?!"

Liu Xiangyang stopped moving, the knife tip hovering, and looked up at him, his eyes conveying a clear meaning: So tell me, what should we do?

Seeing his stubbornness and refusal to listen to reason, Dr. Han felt a lump in her throat, coughed until her face turned red, and finally gave in.

He waved his hand dejectedly, feeling both annoyed and helpless, yet deep down something cold and hard seemed to have been slightly melted by this burning stubbornness.

"Put...put the knife down!" he snapped irritably. "Go, get the boxwood box from the bottom left drawer of the medicine cabinet! Also, boil some water, keep it warm! Hurry up!"

Liu Xiangyang immediately sheathed his knife, his movements swift and decisive, and turned to grab something.

For the rest of the time, the only sounds in the room were Dr. Han's intermittent, weak commands and Liu Xiangyang's occasional questions and precise movements.

Liu Xiangyang learned extremely quickly and performed the tasks of brushing sea cucumbers, slicing them, and preparing a small stove for double-boiling them.

When he carefully placed the first slice of ginseng, as thin as a cicada's wing, to Dr. Han's lips.

Dr. Han looked at the ginseng slices so close to his face, then glanced at his apprentice's taut jawline, and finally closed his eyes, slightly parting his dry, cracked lips.

The slightly bitter ginseng flavor slowly melts in your mouth.

Spoonfuls of warm ginseng soup were carefully fed to him.

No miracle occurred. Dr. Han's complexion did not instantly regain its color, but the suffocating deathly gray that shrouded her seemed to have been slightly diluted by a warm yet tenacious force.

He was still weak, but the wheezing sound of his breathing had lessened, and his brows, which had been tightly furrowed as if he were enduring invisible pain, had relaxed slightly.

More importantly, his eyes. The long-standing despondency, numbness, and emptiness within them were infused with a faint but real light.

He looked at Liu Xiangyang, who was wiping the pottery cup, and as he looked at the young man's focused profile, a long-lost, almost luxurious warmth, mixed with a deeper sigh, welled up in his heart.

This ginseng couldn't save his life, but it warmed his already cold and broken heart.

The room quieted down, with only the faint scents of herbs and ginseng lingering in the air.

After a long while, Dr. Han suddenly spoke. His voice was still hoarse, but it seemed as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, carrying a strange calmness, and even a hint of... relief and ease.

"Towards the sun."

"master."

"This ginseng... is a waste." Dr. Han said softly, without much regret in his tone, as if he were talking about someone else's matter. "But your heartfelt sentiment is appreciated by your master and is more precious than anything else."

He paused, his gaze becoming distant, as if piercing through the dilapidated roof and looking towards the extremely distant past.

"In my life, I haven't mastered the medical skills, I haven't protected my family, and I haven't avenged my family... I thought I would just rot on this bed with a belly full of hatred and regret, but I never expected that in the end, God would give me such a disciple."

Liu Xiangyang put down what he was holding and sat up straight on the stool by the kang. "Master, you passed on the guiding technique to me. That is a great kindness to me. I should do anything to repay you."

Dr. Han glanced at him and said, "Let me tell you a story."

"Several hundred years ago, my first ancestor in this lineage," Dr. Han said softly, as if afraid of disturbing something, "is recorded in the family genealogy. He left home when he was young and was not heard from for decades. Everyone in the clan thought he had died outside, but decades later, he suddenly returned."

The old man paused, a glint of disbelief flashing in his eyes: "It's written in black and white in the family genealogy that when he returned, his appearance was exactly the same as when he left home. Decades have passed, yet not a single trace has been left on his face."

Liu Xiangyang kept his eyes focused and didn't interrupt.

"He only stayed at home for a short time, leaving behind some money and... a pill." Doctor Han's breathing became heavy, carrying a distant pain. "He warned the clan chief at the time that this pill was no ordinary thing and must be sealed in a jade box and passed down from generation to generation. It must never be used unless the clan faces annihilation and its bloodline is about to be wiped out. After saying this, he left again and was never heard from again."

"That pill became the Han family's greatest secret and last hope, passed down from generation to generation. When it reached my father's hands, the world was in chaos, and the Japanese devils came."

Dr. Han's voice began to tremble, and her thin fingers gripped the thin blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"Watanabe Mayu... that beastly Japanese devil! He plotted against my Han family's ancestral recipe and treasures... I was practicing medicine away from home at the time and escaped unscathed. When I received the news, I rushed back as fast as I could..."

Two streams of murky tears rolled down his sunken cheeks without warning, dripping onto the tattered quilt.

"My entire family of seventeen... my parents, my wife, my two children... they're all... lying in pools of blood... the youngest was only four years old..."

Suppressed, broken sobs echoed in the room. Liu Xiangyang sat motionless, his back ramrod straight.

After a long while, Dr. Han finally managed to take a breath and continued, "At that time... I was filled with hatred, and I really wanted to go and fight Watanabe to the death right then and there."

"But I knew he was powerful and had Japanese guns. Going there would be suicide. I remembered the elixir left by my ancestors... Perhaps, if I took it, I could have the power to take revenge? I hid and hid, waited and waited, and finally found an opportunity to sneak back to the old house, which was now in ruins. I found the jade box in a hidden corner of the wall..."

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, his voice low as a whisper: "But...it's too late. By the time I got it, the Japanese had already surrendered, and Watanabe had long since vanished with my family heirloom."

"...My enemies are nowhere to be found, and my family...will never return. This elixir can neither save the dead nor allow my crippled body to cross the ocean..."

The room was deathly silent, save for the old man's suppressed grief.

After an unknown amount of time, Dr. Han finally stopped crying. He opened his eyes, and those eyes, which had just been washed by tears, were now unusually clear as he looked straight at Liu Xiangyang.