His gaze was complex and sorrowful.
It also seemed to carry a hint of agitation—
He appeared to be around eighty years old, with several scars on his hands and face.
The hideous scars looked like they were from burns, perhaps from fire or scalding oil, extremely ugly.
"Grandpa Hu, Lingzhi's diagnoses are spot-on. You should go see her."
A woman, holding a prescription from Chu Lingzhi, walked home cheerfully. Passing by Grandpa Hu, she kindly suggested he visit Chu Lingzhi for treatment.
Grandpa Hu shook his head, his voice hoarse and faint. "These old bones of mine won't last much longer. Seeing a doctor or not makes no difference. Don't waste the medicine."
He cast a deep look toward Chu Lingzhi, his gaze lingering on her figure for a few seconds, then turned and limped away.
Chu Lingzhi, who was taking a patient's pulse, inadvertently turned her head.
When she saw an elderly, stooped figure in plain clothes limping away, her heart felt as if something had stabbed it sharply.
She furrowed her brows slightly. Why did seeing that old man make her feel so heartbroken?
Who was he?
She hadn't seen him among the villagers she'd treated these past few days.
"Who is that old man?" Chu Lingzhi asked the villagers.
The villager looked in the direction she was pointing and smiled. "That's Grandpa Hu. He was also a traditional Chinese doctor when he was young."
So, that was Grandpa Hu...
After dinner, Chu Lingzhi asked Nangong Yehen to take her to see Grandpa Hu.
Fu Chunyan had mentioned he suffered from rheumatism, so Chu Lingzhi brought some rheumatism medicine and arrived at Grandpa Hu's home.
Grandpa Hu's home was a tiled house.
A small, dilapidated tiled house.
The villagers said this tiled house was given to him by someone who no longer wanted it.
From a distance, Chu Lingzhi saw him sitting in front of the stove, lighting a fire to cook.
His hunched figure, sitting there tending the fire, looked frail and lonely, evoking a poignant sense of desolation.
Seeing him, Chu Lingzhi felt another pang of pain in her heart.
Nangong Yehen, standing beside her, gazed at her deeply. "Let's go over."
They entered Grandpa Hu's home, where the room was filled with smoke stinging their eyes.
"Grandpa Hu." Chu Lingzhi blinked her slightly moist eyes and crouched down beside him.
Grandpa Hu's hearing wasn't sharp anymore; he didn't hear her call.
It was only when he saw someone crouch down that he looked up at her.
In that instant, a flicker of shock crossed his face.
The moment he raised his head, Chu Lingzhi's tears burst forth, and she nearly cried out "Grandpa."
Nangong Yehen took in her reaction.
His gaze at her carried a hint of tenderness.
"Little girl, are you looking for me?" Soon, Grandpa Hu forced a smile.
His smile pulled at the scars on his face, making them even uglier.
The hair on his forehead was mostly gone, and his face was a mix of scars and deep wrinkles.
Through her tear-blurred vision, Chu Lingzhi saw the old man before her as if she were looking at her own grandfather.
"Grandpa Hu..."
She reached out to take his hand, but seeing the scars on his hands, just like those on his face, she froze, and her tears fell even harder.
One by one, like pearls from a broken string, they dropped to the ground, spreading into beautiful yet sorrowful blossoms.
His face and hands were burned—burns from fire...
Chu Lingzhi's heart ached, and she couldn't stop the tears from flowing.
Grandpa Hu's gaze lingered on the copper pendant around her neck for a few seconds, then shifted to her face.
Seeing her cry so bitterly, a trace of pain flickered in his cloudy eyes.