015. Applying Medicine, A Distinction

“In fact, all this knowledge in books has been passed down through generations like yours, eventually compiled and published. Don’t be too discouraged. Everything we could have in our time was thanks to the silent dedication of predecessors like you. We are all proud of you,” Jing Qingxin said earnestly, offering her encouragement. Especially as someone born into a military family, she found it even harder to truly comprehend the sacrifices of soldiers.

“I just find myself sighing for those brothers who died so young. If they were still alive, perhaps they could have witnessed the gradual rise of our homeland,” Gao Shen said with a deep sigh.

“All right, let’s not dwell on this anymore. The food’s getting cold. Hurry up and eat!” Jing Qingxin shifted the topic cheerfully.

“You can have this sweet potato. The rice porridge is enough for me,” Gao Shen offered.

“No need, I’m not hungry,” Jing Qingxin replied honestly. She truly didn’t feel hungry; perhaps, at this very hour in her own time and space, her body would be resting, so hunger was simply absent.

Seeing Gao Shen’s skeptical look, Jing Qingxin smiled and sighed gently. “Really, I’m not hungry. It’s nighttime rest for me right now, where I come from.”

“Don’t worry, if I get hungry, I’ll find something to eat! Here, try these pastries,” she said, opening the pastry box and holding it out to him.

Gao Shen no longer insisted. He thought to himself: In her era, food and clothing were never a concern, and there was no need to put on a brave front when it came to eating. If she said she wasn’t hungry, she really wasn’t.

He picked up a pastry, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The pastry was soft—not at all like the somewhat tough osmanthus cakes sold in their town. It was fragrant with a pleasant aftertaste, far superior to the pastries of his time.

Seeing Jing Qingxin’s expectant expression as she watched him, Gao Shen spoke softly, “It’s delicious—better than anything at the supply store.”

Sure enough, upon hearing his answer, Jing Qingxin’s face bloomed with a radiant smile, like a child basking in praise—utterly endearing. Gao Shen didn’t even realize his own eyes were shining with a gentle amusement; he just found her delightfully interesting.

Watching Gao Shen eat with such relish, Jing Qingxin felt a quiet joy herself. She’d known from the start—no one could resist the taste of medicinal pastries. Glancing at the sweet potato in the bowl, her eyes lit up; she happily reached for it and began peeling it with care.

Gao Shen paused mid-sip of his rice porridge at her action, but seeing how pleased she was, he swallowed any comment he’d been about to make—let her enjoy herself.

Here, no one ever peeled sweet potatoes to eat them; everyone ate them skin and all, as they were boiled soft. Removing even half the skin would be considered wasteful, and anyone caught doing so would be scolded. But Gao Shen understood—this woman had habits quite foreign to their way of life.

Moreover, since her arrival, she’d shown nothing but goodwill—helping to treat his injured leg, bringing delicious food and precious books. All of it was for his well-being. How could he bear to criticize her? And after all, any waste was from his own share; it was no one else’s concern.

“Here, I’ve finished peeling it!” Jing Qingxin said, presenting the sweet potato, perfectly peeled to reveal its golden flesh, to Gao Shen.

“Thank you! I could’ve done it myself,” he replied.

“It’s fine, I had nothing else to do. I actually find peeling it rather fun,” Jing Qingxin said with a smile, then turned to the table, poured some water into a basin, and carefully washed her hands.

Gao Shen watched her as he ate, his lips curving in a faint, almost wry smile. Her era must have been one of great refinement. His own family used to observe such niceties, but later on, circumstances had changed. By the village’s standards, they were already considered needlessly fastidious.

Thinking of this, Gao Shen couldn’t help but sigh. His good mood faded a little, and even the delicious flavors seemed to lose their sweetness.

After washing, Jing Qingxin returned to the bedside and noticed Gao Shen lost in thought, his expression somber. She asked in puzzlement, “What’s wrong, Gao Shen?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking,” he replied, quickly adjusting his mood and finishing his rice porridge to complete breakfast.

“Let’s apply the medicine to your leg now,” Jing Qingxin said, holding a small porcelain jar.

“I can do it myself!” Gao Shen hurried to say, reaching for the medicine. The wound on his leg had recently started festering, and it looked rather unpleasant.

“Just lie down and stretch out your left leg,” Jing Qingxin instructed briskly.

Gao Shen felt a sense of helpless amusement, but did as he was told, pulling his leg from under the quilt and laying it out. His foot was still bound in white bandages, fastened with a wooden splint, though the wrapping seemed a bit haphazard.

“The wound’s a bit inflamed and looks unpleasant. I should probably do it myself,” Gao Shen explained.

Jing Qingxin waved off his concern, teasing, “Don’t worry, no matter how bad it looks, it’s nothing compared to the horror movies I’ve seen.”

“What?” Gao Shen asked, confused. Horror movies? He recognized it as a term from her world, but didn’t know what it meant.

“Don’t mind it! I just mean, your wound won’t scare me,” Jing Qingxin said with a laugh, unwilling to explain what television or movies were—such topics would be far too exhausting to clarify.

With that, she carefully unwrapped the bandage and removed the splint. The injury was as Gao Shen had described: the wound hadn’t been properly treated, the stitches had parted in places, the flesh was inflamed, and the surrounding skin was red and swollen—almost like a patch of raw spoiled meat. It was a jarring sight, but nothing compared to the gruesome scenes she’d witnessed in post-apocalyptic zombie films.

In her time, horror movies abounded, their imagery beyond words. Her friend Han Zhen was fearless and often dragged her to watch all manner of zombie, ghost, and suspense thrillers during holidays. That wasn’t even the end of it—Han Zhen had once made her attend a cosplay party with a horror theme. After all that, her nerves had become unshakably strong.

Compared to those experiences, Gao Shen’s leg wound seemed trivial—just a small patch of festering flesh! It didn’t strike her as frightening in the least.

Gao Shen watched Jing Qingxin quietly. Even confronted with his wound, she showed no sign of surprise or disgust—just a focused, studious gaze. This was unexpected. He suspected that in his own era, most women would have been shocked and repulsed at the sight.

“Doesn’t seeing this wound bother you at all?” Gao Shen couldn’t help but ask.

“Bother me? Why should it?” Jing Qingxin tilted her head in confusion.

Well then, Gao Shen had to admit—this woman was truly extraordinary. She couldn’t be compared with the women of his own time. In every respect, she was different.

This novel is first published by Xiangxiang Books. Do not repost.