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Before long, they stepped aside but did not invite Song Feiwan in. She stood outside the door, separated from the people inside by a white curtain.
From her vantage point, she could see two men seated on chairs. The hanging curtain obscured their upper bodies. One of them wore a deep blue long robe, presumably a physician from the Xinglin Medical Hall; the other was dressed in a flowing black robe adorned with silver thread, intricately embroidered with cloud patterns. He wore a pair of spotless black boots, his attire exuding elegance from sleeve to toe.
His hand rested casually on his long leg, skin resembling cold jade, with well-proportioned joints and neatly trimmed nails. They were exceptionally beautiful hands. Song Feiwan had always been unable to resist attractive hands and couldn't help but steal a few more glances before retracting her gaze.
Seated as he was, she couldn't gauge his height, but judging by the skin of his hands, he seemed to be no older than ten years. Thus, she spoke up: "This humble girl has come to meet you, young master."
The voice from within responded: "Miss Song, no need for formalities."
This voice caught her attention anew. It was deep and magnetic, tinged with youthful clarity, reminiscent of ice clinking against glass or a drumstick striking a membrane, stirring up waves of tingling sensations in her ears.
Separated by the curtain, Song Feiwan could not glimpse his true appearance. Yet, just from those hands and that fine voice, she couldn't help but imagine what an exquisite face he must possess.
Regaining her composure and suppressing her astonishment, Song Feiwan straightened up and spoke directly about business. "I have heard that the last remaining Xialing from the Xinglin Medical Hall has been purchased by you. I too require this Xialing; may I ask if you would be willing to part with it?"
Before the person inside could respond, the attendant guarding the door frowned and said discontentedly, "It's easy for you to say that. Do you know there is only one Xialing in the entire city?"
Song Feiwan shot him a glance, thinking he was quite protective of his master.
"Zhuo, do not be rude." The indifferent yet magnetic voice came from within.
The man referred to as Zhuo immediately straightened his back and bowed apologetically toward Song Feiwan.
The man inside said, "Miss Song, please forgive me."
Such a trivial matter, Song Feiwan wouldn't truly be upset. Moreover, this young man's voice was so pleasant, polite and composed, which left a good impression on her.
She replied gently, "It's no trouble at all. I understand that the Xiajing is rare, and it would be unreasonable to ask you to part with it. However, I truly need this medicine, which is why I mustered the courage to discuss it with you.
You may not know, but I have some knowledge of medicine myself. If you don't mind sharing the uses of Xiajing, I might be able to help you find some alternative herbs."
Song Feiwan bowed again and added, "If you have any other conditions, please feel free to mention them. I only hope you can grant my request."
After speaking, she straightened up and anxiously awaited behind the curtain. Although she didn't know the identity of the person inside, the atmosphere suggested he was either wealthy or noble, which made her feel quite uncertain.
While she was confident in her medical skills, she also understood that there were always people more skilled than herself. The doctors at the Xinglin Medical Hall had been helpless against his illness; she dared not overestimate herself by offering to treat him directly.
At this moment, she had shown her utmost sincerity. Two sharp gazes pierced through the curtain and landed on her. Her heart raced; she did not shy away but instead steadfastly looked ahead.
Finally, the man inside spoke: "Two silver coins."
Song Feiwan bit her lip, feeling an inexplicable warmth in her ears. "I don't have that much money at the moment."
From within came a low chuckle. Song Feiwan's face grew even warmer.
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