Chapter Twenty-Seven: Who Is Aunt Flo?

The largest and most luxurious room in the Goulan Pavilion was where Yang Wan'er was currently waiting.

As Su Chen entered, he was immediately enveloped in a subtle, intoxicating fragrance. It felt as though he had stepped into a den of indulgence; though he knew only one woman was present, the scent was undeniably bewitching.

"‘This sentiment is worth cherishing, but at the time, it was already a bewilderment.’ Master Su, this poem of yours is truly unprecedented and peerless—it is profoundly moving."

A woman’s voice drifted from behind the screen, as melodious as flowing water. Moments later, a delicate, fair-skinned woman emerged.

With the slender neck of a mantis, the graceful gait of a crane, a complexion as radiant as peach blossoms, and a waist as lithe as a willow branch, she was breathtaking at first glance—a beauty who could rival Daji of the Shang Dynasty.

Su Chen felt his legs weaken slightly. It would be no exaggeration to say that Yang Wan'er’s beauty surpassed even that of Princess Changle. The only flaw was that her complexion appeared somewhat pale.

"What is the matter, Master Su? You can write such exquisite poetry, yet you seem so reserved upon meeting me?" Yang Wan'er giggled.

Her laughter was even more enchanting, revealing two shallow dimples. Had he not weathered many storms and encountered countless beauties in his life, he might have been completely spellbound. However, having been tempered by the modern era, Su Chen possessed a steady composure; no matter how stunning a woman might be, he would not lose his footing.

Su Chen took a slight breath and replied, "Forgive my bluntness, Miss. As the saying goes, a physician’s heart is one of compassion. I noticed your complexion is pale, indicating blood stasis. If I am not mistaken, you have been experiencing your monthly cycle these past few days, and the flow has been excessive."

Su Chen relied on his expertise. From the pallor of her face, he could clearly tell she was suffering from menorrhagia. However, Yang Wan'er was unfamiliar with the colloquial term he had used.

"‘Auntie’? I have no such relative visiting," Yang Wan'er frowned, looking confused by his strange phrasing.

"Oh, forgive me. That is merely a colloquialism I use for the monthly menses," Su Chen realized that in this era, people did not refer to menstruation in such a way; to them, ‘Auntie’ only meant a relative.

Hearing his explanation, Yang Wan'er couldn't help but laugh again. She had not expected this man of such literary talent to be so free-spirited and humorous.

"Are you a doctor, Master Su? How could you tell at a glance?" Yang Wan'er asked, intrigued.

Su Chen was correct. She had indeed been suffering from an unrelenting cycle these past few days, which had been causing her great distress. Given her urgent tasks, she hadn't had the time to properly address it, yet Su Chen had identified her condition instantly just by looking at her. Most people would never have noticed through her complexion alone.

However, traditional Chinese medicine emphasizes observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking; "observation" allows for a diagnosis based on the face. Since Yang Wan'er possessed naturally high-quality skin and wore no heavy makeup, the underlying issues were visible to a trained eye.

"Indeed. My clinic in Chang'an just opened a few days ago. If you have the time, Miss Wan'er, you are welcome to visit," Su Chen offered. It was clear to him that the lady suffered from stagnant liver qi and an irregular, heavy cycle.

Yang Wan'er hesitated. As a woman of her standing, it was inconvenient to visit a public clinic. Moreover, she had come to Chang'an on a mission and knew little about Su Chen. Her original target had been Cui Wenbin, but his poetry had proven so mediocre that it paled in comparison to Su Chen’s work. Su Chen’s sudden appearance had already disrupted her plans, and the fact that he could diagnose her so accurately suggested he was a man of hidden depth.

"It might be inconvenient for me to visit the clinic, as I am a lady and must mind my reputation. Since you have identified my ailment, Master Su, could you perhaps prepare some medicine for me?" she asked softly.

Su Chen understood. In this era, it was certainly inappropriate for a woman of her status to travel freely. He had originally considered acupuncture—needling the Taichong, Sanyinjiao, and Xuehai points would have regulated her cycle within a day—but that would require exposing her legs, which was out of the question.

"Please, Miss Wan'er, extend your hand so I may verify your pulse," Su Chen said, adhering to his professional oath.

Yang Wan'er complied, placing her snow-white, delicate hand on the table. As Su Chen placed his three fingers on her wrist, he felt how incredibly smooth and soft her skin was, almost ethereal. For a moment, he nearly forgot he was there to treat a patient.

"Master Su, you have been checking my pulse for some time. What is your diagnosis?" she asked, waiting for his reply.

Su Chen, experienced in handling such situations, maintained his composure and finished his "examination." In truth, he didn't even need the pulse to know the correct remedy, but the gesture was necessary.

"After I return tomorrow, I will prepare some Xiaoyao pills and have them delivered to you. Once you take my medicine, you will find relief within two days," he assured her.

He had already decided on the formula: a blend of Bupleurum, Angelica sinensis, white peony root, stir-fried Atractylodes, and Poria, fashioned into pills. It was a classic remedy for liver stagnation, melancholia, and menstrual irregularities. He would have his staff prepare it as soon as he returned to the clinic.

"Then I thank you, Master Su," Yang Wan'er said, her every movement and smile imbued with a graceful, lingering charm.