Chapter 25: Leeches

There was a shallow layer of silt covering the clay jar, about the width of a finger joint. A strong medicinal smell seeped out from the gaps, bitter and pungent.

Bao Ning picked up a small wooden stick, braced herself, and lifted the lid entirely.

There was a small hole in the mud. Bao Ning poked at it with the stick. After a moment, a plump worm with a round head emerged. Its head was pale blue, about the thickness of half a pinky finger. It crawled out slowly, about two inches long. Its back was translucent white, showing tiny blood vessels inside, and two golden threads ran along its sides.

Compared to the leeches commonly found in rice paddies, the golden-thread leech was more delicate and prettier—but it was still a wriggling worm.

Bao Ning stared at it for a while, her stomach churning with nausea.

She quickly replaced the lid, took a sip of water to suppress the discomfort welling up inside.

This was the only golden-thread leech Aunt Ming had managed to find. It was about to lay eggs, so she had to take good care of it. If this leech died, or if too few eggs hatched, things would become troublesome.

This was not something that money could buy.

Aunt Ming had obtained this leech purely by chance. Her second daughter, Ji Tongchu, had married Jia Xian, the second son of the Marquis of Chongyuan. They had two sons. Last summer, the younger one got heatstroke while playing outside and became poisoned by the heat, breaking out in small rashes all over his body. He was on the verge of death. The heir of the Chongyuan Marquisate possibly had fertility issues—he had been married for five years without a single child—so this grandson was the Marquis’ pride and joy. In a moment of desperation, someone brought a pair of golden-thread leeches to curry favor. They happened to cure the young boy’s heat poison.

Knowing that Aunt Ming liked such things and was good at tending them, her daughter gave the leeches to her to care for once the boy recovered.

The male leech had been used to detoxify the boy. It was on the brink of death afterward, and Aunt Ming had barely kept it alive with medicine. It lasted through the winter, but eventually died early this spring.

Fortunately, the female leech was carrying eggs. If it could lay them successfully, there would be a new generation of leeches.

If it died, it would be nearly impossible to find another. And Pei Yuan’s poisoning couldn’t wait much longer.

This kind of leech had to feed on blood to survive. Live creatures had to be constantly put in for it to feed on—especially this egg-bearing female, which could consume half a teacup of animal blood a day.

Bao Ning frowned. Where was she going to find food for it?

Aunt Ming had said that if there was truly nothing else, cooked egg yolk could be fed to it—but that wasn’t a long-term solution. Bao Ning thought she would make a small net the next day and try to catch some fresh river snails. If that didn’t work, she’d buy some from the market and raise them in a small tank at home. That way, once the mother leech laid her eggs, there would be food for the young as well.

Before bed, Bao Ning crushed an egg yolk and put it inside, sealed the small jar, poked a hole for air, and respectfully placed it on the highest shelf.

She silently prayed: Dear mother leech, please hang in there!

After leaving, Feng Yongjia didn’t return to the stables. Instead, he went to a private residence he owned in the eastern suburbs of the capital.

He had secretly bought the place behind his father Feng Xiang’s back. It was hidden and secluded, where he kept a few pampered mistresses—no one knew about it.

As soon as he stepped inside, a woman came up to him, delicately wrapped around his arm and breathed into his ear, “My lord, you’ve been gone for days. I thought you didn’t want Qinqing anymore.”

Qinqing was someone he had ransomed from a brothel half a month ago. She had a slender waist, full chest, and seductive eyes—Feng Yongjia had been infatuated. But now, seeing her again, he felt only irritation.

He pushed her away with disdain. “You reek of the brothel.”

Qinqing was stunned by the insult.

“Go back to your own room. Stop bothering me.” Feng Yongjia flung his sleeve and stormed toward the main room, slamming the door behind him.

Qinqing stared hatefully at his back, gritting her teeth. “You penniless nobody, really think you’re someone now?” She curled her lip and walked off with a twist of her waist.

Inside, Feng Yongjia drowned his sorrows in wine.

He saw himself as a misunderstood genius, a man cursed by fate. He had been smart since childhood—became a xiucai (county-level scholar) just after turning ten. But his father was merely a poor, low-ranking stablehand, and Feng couldn’t afford the bribes necessary to advance. Corrupt officials crushed his ambitions, and he had remained unrecognized ever since. Over time, it warped his temperament. Once determined to succeed through civil service, he now understood: what good was talent without money? Without it, he couldn’t take a single step. Otherwise, why would he, a scholar, still be unable to afford a wife?

Recently, his father had somehow acquired a horse ranch, and he had benefited by association. From a penniless scholar, he suddenly became a young master. He thought he was finally free from hardship, but his father clung to money like a miser, not letting him spend even a single coin.

This made Feng Yongjia more bitter than ever—more than when he was struggling without hope. He came up with an idea: steal money and gamble. To his surprise, gambling brought money fast—within days he had silver flowing in. No longer needing to rely on his father, he set up a private residence, bought mistresses, and lived lavishly for nearly a month. But then disaster struck. Three days ago, he lost everything in a bet with Xu Guang—and even owed a massive debt of 2,000 taels of silver.

Xu Guang was a favored subordinate of Eunuch Huang, the Deputy Director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. He couldn’t be beaten or scolded. If he pushed you, you could only fall on your face and grit your teeth as you paid up.

But where was Feng Yongjia supposed to get the money?

Once again, he lamented his misfortune.

After a couple more sips of wine, as he pounded his chest in despair, his thoughts suddenly turned to Bao Ning, and his heart ached. She was exactly the kind of woman he had dreamed of marrying—cultured, courteous, gentle, and attentive. A woman soft as water and tender-hearted. But fate was cruel, and he could not attain what he desired. That cripple—that cripple—why did he deserve such good fortune? If only Feng Yongjia had married a woman like her earlier, he wouldn’t have ended up on this crooked path!

Feng Yongjia felt the injustice deeply. His teeth clenched with resentment, and from his envy bloomed hatred. He took another gulp of wine and collapsed over the table, sobbing miserably.

Suddenly, the door was kicked open.

A blast of cold wind howled into the room. Feng Yongjia jolted in surprise. When he looked up, he found himself staring into the fierce and menacing face of Xu Guang.

His heart dropped. Eyes widening, he was about to shout for help, but Xu Guang shoved the hilt of a knife into his mouth, silencing him. Feng Yongjia’s tongue shrank back. He dared not make a sound.

Xu Guang leaned down, grinning widely. “Little scholar, I don’t want your money anymore. Let’s make a deal instead.”

Feng Yongjia looked at him in fear.

Xu Guang narrowed his eyes and said, “You help me kill a man, and I’ll help you get a woman. How about it?”

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