To call Qingqing Zhong Wuyan was already a compliment, for Zhong Wuyan only had a mark on half her face, whereas Qingqing’s entire face was dark. Growing up, no one in the mansion had spoken to her, and she was unaware of her own appearance. Only her mother and Hong Mama occasionally sighed when looking at her, but she never understood why. However, from books, she knew Zhong Wuyan was an ugly woman, which made her feel both shocked and panicked. Her mother and Hong Mama avoided her gaze, which deepened her sorrow, and she recalled the emperor’s words from the day before about how fortunate a family would be to have such a daughter, to which her father had awkwardly responded, “As long as someone doesn’t mind her…” indicating her ugliness. Every woman, regardless of her understanding of the world, cares about her appearance; it’s a woman’s nature. Hearing such a description for the first time, Qingqing was overwhelmed with sadness and shame, as if countless people were mocking her. Suddenly, she let out a loud cry and ran out as fast as she could, with people unable to catch up. She ran and cried, cried and ran, leaving through the back door and continuing for a long time until it grew dark, and she was too exhausted to run further. Looking up, she realized she had unknowingly reached the riverbank on the outskirts of the city. She touched her stomach, which was growling with hunger, and found a patch of grass to sit down casually. The sadness in her heart had lessened somewhat, and only then did she remember that running away like this would mean facing unknown punishments upon her return. As she was lost in thought, a man suddenly said, “Miss, why aren’t you heading home at this late hour?” Qingqing, startled, looked up to see two men on horseback not far from her side. Since the place was covered with grass, she hadn’t heard the sound of hooves. The man who spoke was slightly in front, dressed in fine clothes, his voice loud and clear, his demeanor spirited. He was only sixteen or seventeen, with sharp brows and bright eyes, red lips and white teeth, handsome yet possessing a noble and imposing air that made one dare not look directly at him.
Qingqing, upon suddenly seeing these strangers and recalling Madame Yao’s words from earlier in the day, feared her appearance would again be mocked, so she lowered her head and stammered, “No… don’t… mind your business… who… who asked you to care…” — From “The Ugly Beauty” (Chapter Four).
Seeing her rudeness and lack of appreciation, the man’s attendant advised him to leave her be, but he ignored the suggestion, convinced that this young lady must have encountered some trouble. Moved by compassion, he dismounted and asked, “Miss, if you’re in trouble, tell me, perhaps I can help.” Seeing the concern from everyone around her, Qingqing felt her grievances rise again, and in a defiant gesture, she lifted her face, saying hastily, “Look at me, this is my trouble, can you help?”
The young man indeed looked her over carefully for a moment. Although her skin was dark, her features were quite delicate; if she were fairer, she would surpass many in beauty. He also noticed her figure, young yet voluptuous, with an appealing curve. At that moment, she was curiously observing him with clear eyes, which stirred an inexplicable warmth in his heart. He laughed and said, “Is this your trouble? Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Seeing him scrutinize her for so long, Qingqing’s ears turned red. Hearing his words now, she was both embarrassed and irritated, scolding, “Since you can’t help, why bother meddling?”
The young man’s attendant suddenly dismounted, saying, “You’re quite rude, miss. My master here is kindly trying to help you, how can you scold him?” Qingqing retorted, “I didn’t ask him to help, he’s the one meddling.” It was unclear where her usual timidity had gone today. The attendant was furious, “You…” But the young master, instead of getting angry, laughed, “If it were something else, I might be able to help, but this… your appearance is something you’re born with, I can’t do anything about it, however…”
Qingqing quickly asked, “However what?” The young master continued, “However, there might be someone who could cure your dark skin condition, but I’m not sure where he is.” Qingqing, disappointed, asked casually, “What good would that do? Who is it?” The young master replied, “He’s known as the ‘Ghost Doctor.'” Qingqing had initially held out a sliver of hope, but upon hearing the name, her spirits sank, “If he could, I would’ve been cured ten years ago.”
The young master was curious, “You’ve met him?”
At this moment, Qingqing’s mood seemed to improve slightly. She invited the young master to sit on the grass beside her and said, “I heard from Hong Mama at home that when I was born, I was very weak, so my father invited the ‘Ghost Doctor’ to treat me. If he could’ve cured me, I wouldn’t be like this now…” She choked up, unable to continue.
Few hadn’t heard of the “Ghost Doctor’s” fame, but even fewer had actually seen him, especially since he mysteriously retired ten years ago, with no one knowing his whereabouts. The young master was extremely curious, looking at Qingqing’s ragged attire, wondering which family’s daughter she was to have been able to summon the Ghost Doctor. “Are you boasting, miss? The Ghost Doctor isn’t someone just anyone can summon.”
Qingqing replied, “If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do.” The young master simply smiled faintly and did not press further. He had been well-educated from a young age and knew not to ask twice if someone was unwilling to talk. Thus, the two strangers sat by the river in silence. After a while, the young master suddenly asked, “Did you run away just because of this? It’s not worth it.” Qingqing replied somberly, “Not entirely, I was also beaten by my father.” As she spoke, her hand instinctively touched her still swollen cheek, almost crying again.
The young master said, “If your father beat you, it was for your own good.” Qingqing, who had never opened up to anyone, found herself relaxing in the presence of this stranger, snorting, “How could beating me be for my own good?” The young master explained, “He beat you because he still cares about you, he’s frustrated because he can’t make you better. In our family, we have at least seven or eight siblings, and if our father beats any of us, we’d sneak off to the side and rejoice.”
Qingqing looked at him suspiciously, asking, “Why? Do you all enjoy being abused?” The young master found her earnest gaze both amusing and frustrating, unsure how to respond. Fortunately, his attendant chimed in, “If he beats someone, it means he values them. If a father ignores his child’s mistakes, then it’s truly over for that child…”
Although the attendant’s voice was rather effeminate, his words made sense. Qingqing thought about her own impulsiveness and mistakes, and her understanding deepened. Seeing her nod, the young master smiled, “I’m Li Qin, and you? What’s your name?” Qingqing said, “I’m Qingqing, Lin Qingqing.”
Li Qin asked, “Qingqing? Why are you called Qingqing?” Qingqing, with a trace of sadness, said, “My mother said I’m like the weeds by the pavilion, always unnoticed, so I’m called Qingqing.” Unexpectedly, Li Qin replied, “Who says weeds are bad? They are the most resilient among plants; even if you burn them with fire, the spring breeze will bring them back to life.”