Chapter 27: Blocking Every Path the Heroine Takes

Just as Wenyao had steeled herself for a confrontation, ready to snatch the child away for rescue, the young lady spoke first.

Paying no heed to decorum, she thrust the child toward Wenyao, not forgetting to kick the old servant woman in the process. "Get lost! Who gave a servant like you the right to meddle in my affairs?"

Wenyao didn't care whether mistress and servant were quarreling or coming to blows. She took the child and immediately handed him over to Wenjun.

Wenjun began to examine the situation at once, and Wenyao asked directly, "Was he eating something when the carriage overturned just now?"

The young lady nodded hurriedly. "Yes, I thought he would drop it, but when the carriage tipped over, I was too busy shielding him to notice. I never expected—" Her words dissolved into sobs.

Wenyao could guess what had happened. The boy hadn't wanted to part with his treat and had stuffed it into his mouth. Children, after all, never want to waste anything delicious.

Outside the carriage, Wenjun had already begun the Heimlich maneuver, holding the little one and applying steady pressure. The child, small and frail, was pressed against his chest. More and more onlookers gathered, curious about Wenjun's strange method of rescue. Seeing the boy's face turn red from lack of air, many thought there was no hope.

But to everyone's surprise, after Wenjun's series of odd maneuvers, the child suddenly coughed up a small object, drew in a huge, gasping breath, and let out a weak cry.

Relief swept through the crowd, and some even started to applaud. The young lady collapsed by the carriage, so shaken she could not even summon the strength to approach her son.

Wenjun soothed the frightened child for a while before returning him to his mother. She clutched him tightly and broke down in tears.

The old servant woman climbed out of the carriage, exclaiming how fortunate it was that the young master was safe.

Seeing this, Wenyao exchanged a glance with Wenjun. The two quietly stepped aside, reclaiming their baskets from the roadside and dusting themselves off before leaving.

It wasn't that Wenyao was unwilling to linger; it was just that the servant clearly wasn't the lady's own attendant. "Old Madam, Madam"—such titles, tsk, tsk, tsk, it was clearly another scene of household strife among the gentry.

In the modern age, perhaps she would've stayed to watch the drama unfold, siding with the daughter-in-law against the wicked mother-in-law, or vice versa. But here? Best not. She'd seen the servant nearly faint at the sight of her brother in the carriage. If they made an issue of this back home, it could implicate Wenyao and Wenjun. What a needless risk.

After crying for a while, the young lady gathered her child and sought her saviors, but by then, Wenyao and Wenjun had long since vanished.

Regardless of whether they were sought or not, the siblings, their baskets now empty, walked as if a breeze carried them along.

This, after all, was the greatest advantage of their hidden space.

"From now on, we can buy as much as we want. When no one's around, we just tuck it away... and poof! Gone!" Wenyao grinned, waving her hand and showing her empty palm.

Wenjun also smiled, finding it much easier this way. Still, he cautioned, "Be careful when you use it. Never let anyone find out."

Wenyao winked. "Don't worry, Doctor Wen. I'll be careful. But today, it's a good thing you were here. Otherwise, that child might not have made it."

Wenjun felt a chill at the thought. If they hadn't happened by, the outcome would have been tragic.

"The rules of these grand households are truly suffocating," Wenyao mused. "That servant blocked you at first, afraid you'd see someone inside, and later, all for the sake of so-called propriety, she nearly cost that child his life. Life behind those grand gates isn't as enviable as it seems."

Wenjun, ever the doctor, was more composed than his sister. "Each era has its customs. The equality we take for granted in the modern age exists only thanks to generations of effort. We can't judge the present by the standards of the future. What seems wrong to us now is simply the rule and etiquette here."

There was a certain resignation in his tone.

Wenjun ruffled his sister's hair and smiled. "You'll get used to it. But I promise you, neither Father nor I will ever let you marry into such a grand household. Too many rules—they wouldn't suit you. You should find someone from a simple family. Even if he's poor, as long as you don't go hungry, that's enough."

Wenyao cocked her head, giving him a look of mock horror. "Doctor Wen, aren't you getting ahead of yourself? I'm only ten!"

Wenjun smiled gently. "My mistake. I forgot."

Wenyao rolled her eyes at him and added, "Back in the day, if you hadn't run off to study abroad, do you realize how many of the aunts from the Agricultural Academy would've worn down our doorstep?"

Wenjun pressed his lips together. "Which is why being here isn't so bad. We're younger by a good decade or two and can live freely for decades more."

"Yeah, right. Let's see you never fall in love," Wenyao teased, sticking out her tongue.

Wenjun smiled faintly. Romance, after all, would only distract him from his studies.

Thinking back to what had just happened, Wenyao looked at Wenjun with renewed admiration.

"Brother, you were amazing back there. I think you were born to heal the world." Even though his appearance had changed, in that moment of saving a life, Wenyao believed her brother shone brighter than anyone else.

A flicker of bitterness crossed Wenjun's eyes, and he gave a rueful smile. "It's a pity, after all these years of studying medicine, none of it is useful here—not like you and Father, at least."

Wenyao sensed his disappointment and wished she could slap her own mouth, but she hurried to reassure him. "That's not true. Look, you just used your skills today!"

Wenjun only smiled and changed the subject. "Come on, let's get you home. I'll change my shoes and go find Father."

Watching her brother force a smile made Wenyao's heart ache. She couldn't bear to see him so dispirited; she had to find a way to help him rediscover his purpose.

Her brother should be the one shining on the operating table, giving new life to others—not someone carrying baskets and scrubbing tables.

With that thought, Wenyao tried to recall the plot of the original novel. It seemed that among the heroine's many admirers, there was someone known as a "Divine Doctor." But what kind of Divine Doctor? She couldn't quite remember.

And where did that doctor learn his craft? She needed to remember. If someone else could become a Divine Doctor, then so could her brother.

As for the heroine's path—she would block it, one way or another.

Hmph!