The old man didn't know why the beggar suddenly changed his mind, but it saved him the trouble of finding someone else. "Here's his household registration and three taels of silver. Hurry up and find a place to marry him, and keep an eye on him, understand?" With that, he turned and left.
He didn't believe an old beggar would let such a beautiful person run away. He figured the beggar would just find a random place, take the boy, and then watch him closely.
What a shame such a lovely person raised by Jin Yu was ruined like this.
Anzhi ignored the old man's words. Once he was gone, she quickly went over to check on the boy.
The young man was lying on the ground in light blue clothes. The material was fine—definitely not what an ordinary servant would wear. His eyes were shut tight, lips pale, and sweat dotted his pale face. She touched his forehead—it was burning hot.
He had a fever.
Anzhi pressed her lips together and carried him on her back.
Well, since she already started helping, she might as well go all the way.
Helping others was a vow deeply rooted in her heart.
——
Yan felt like a joke. Overnight, everything changed—his home wasn't his, his parents weren't his, and everyone else was real, except for him.
He never wanted to fight for anything. He just couldn't understand how more than ten years of affection could vanish in a single night—how they could be so heartless and leave him nothing.
"Cold…"
"Hot…"
In a small, rundown temple, Anzhi heard the weak murmurs of the fevered boy and looked over at him. Then she turned her attention back to the medicine pot, adding a stick of firewood and fanning the flames with a worn-out fan.
The dim firelight made the night seem even darker. The broken temple doors couldn't keep the cold wind out.
She piled all the dry straw she could find over the boy to keep him warm, shielding both the fire and the boy with her body.
Thankfully, the body she now had after transmigrating was strong. Although it still looked pale and fragile from long-term IV treatments in her old life, it was surprisingly resilient. She could feel the cold and heat, but it wouldn't easily hurt her. Her immune system seemed stronger now—one of the few perks of transmigration, she thought with bitter amusement.
Once the medicine was ready, she poured it into a small wooden bowl she had just bought and waited for it to cool down.
She touched Yan's forehead again—it was slightly cooler than before.
It wasn't that she didn't want to take him to a doctor, but the money she had wasn't enough. A single visit plus a few doses of medicine would leave her broke. She wouldn't even be able to afford food after that, let alone any supplements to help him recover.
So she bought the herbs and tools herself. It had cost nearly a whole tael of silver but was still within her expectations.
In this world, getting medical help was hard.
Right now, she was staying in an abandoned temple just outside a small town.
Inside the temple, only a worn-down clay statue of a deity she didn't recognize remained.
After feeding him the medicine, Anzhi leaned against a column and slowly drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, a strange old man with a white beard talked nonsense to her for a long time, apologized to her, and then told her he had given her a spiritual spring. For now, it was stored in that old bowl. If she said a certain chant, she could summon the spring. It would produce only one drop of spring water per day.
When morning came, Anzhi opened her eyes and saw the old bowl beside her. She couldn't help but feel speechless.
She had nearly thrown it away. If not for being so broke, even a beggar needed tools...
Curious, she said the chant from her dream. Right after, she felt a faint connection in her mind, and a small red mark appeared in the center of her palm.
She focused, and a single clear drop of water appeared at her fingertip.
It really worked?
She had only tried it on a whim, not expecting anything.
According to the dream, the spring could only produce one drop of water a day. If not used quickly, it would slowly lose its effect. It couldn't magically heal broken bones or revive the dead, but it could improve health, boost immunity, and had some detoxifying and anti-inflammatory effects. Basically, it was a high-level nutritional supplement—something best used long-term.
Still, that was already amazing.
If she continued as a doctor, this spring could help her improve her treatments, at the very least enhancing the effects of her medicine.
It all sounded too good. But right now, there was a sick boy right beside her. She wasn't sure how much to use, so she didn't dare give it to him directly.
She didn't have proper tools or even test animals. Yan's fever had dropped a little, but he still wasn't doing well.
After thinking it through, Anzhi decided to test it on herself first.
She dropped the spring water into a bowl of warm water, watched it disappear instantly, then drank a third of it once the steam had faded.
Tasted just like plain boiled water.
As she continued to tend the medicine and wait, half an hour passed. She felt no changes at all.
Maybe the dose was too small.
At least there were no negative effects. That gave her the confidence to try giving some to Yan.
She gently raised his upper body and slowly poured the water into his dry, cracked lips. His throat moved, swallowing it naturally. With only one-third of the bowl left, she paused.
Just as she was about to lay him back down, the boy frowned and murmured in a soft, upset voice, his lips now moist and red.
"Water… more water…"
"You've had enough," she replied casually, still watching the fire and not expecting a response from someone so out of it.
"Mm… mm… water… Yan wants water…" he whimpered, voice rising like a kitten begging.
Anzhi sighed and looked at him again. Sure enough, the boy was still asleep, but tears were slipping from his closed eyes, dripping past his long lashes like a string of pearls. His face was flushed, and his body trembled slightly.
If he was like this while unconscious, she couldn't imagine what he'd be like when he woke up.
What do you do when someone cries?
You comfort them.
Anzhi, comforting someone for the first time, softened her voice. Tired and a little hoarse, she sounded like she was gently coaxing him, "Alright, alright, don't cry."
"Water, water…" he mumbled again.
The rest of the spring water had been poured into the medicine pot. The pot served multiple purposes—boiling water, cooking, and now making medicine. There was no way to use it for just water right now.
No way around it.
Anzhi tried to sound as comforting as possible. "Be good. You'll get water later, but you need to take your medicine first."
"No… no medicine. Yan will be good. Father, please don't punish Yan… no medicine…!" The moment he heard the word "medicine," he burst into tears again, sobbing loudly.
Anzhi froze.
Why was he this scared of medicine?
This wasn't just a child being fussy—it felt more like punishment.
Could it be that in some wealthy households, children were punished by being forced to drink medicine?
But he said "Father"…?