After the Waking of Insects, the capital seemed shrouded in a faint haze. Fine snowflakes drifted down, and leaden clouds weighed heavily on the eaves of the No. 1 Scholar's residence, casting a chilling hue over the exquisitely carved window lattices. News of Jiang Yan's "illness" spread like a gust of wind, swiftly reaching every corner of the capital. It first circulated from the Prime Minister's residence, then like ripples spread to the Hanlin Academy. Then, through the exaggerated reports of the water carriers, it reached the streets and alleys, evolving into a vivid rumor: "The newly crowned No. 1 Scholar miscalculated the grain transport tax and was so frightened by the Emperor's scolding."

"Brother Jiang Yan!" With an urgent cry, Young Marquis Su burst open the accounting office door like a whirlwind. The red silk tassel of his wooden sword danced in the wind, sweeping the inkstone on the table with one stroke. Thick ink splattered like a herd of wild horses, landing on the brocade quilt covering Jiang Yan, creating a patchwork of irregular dark patterns like an abstract ink painting. The young man was panting, the collar of his cotton robe tilted to one side, looking disheveled and anxious. The toy sword in his hand was still stained with snow foam brought in from outside, which gradually melted in the warm air inside.

"Who made you sick? I'm going to chop him eighteen times!" Young Marquis Su's eyes were wide open, his face full of indignation, as if he was going to rush out to avenge Jiang Yan in the next second.

Jiang Yan was sprawled on the rosewood bed. Hearing the noise, his shoulders jerked, causing the brocade quilt to slide slightly downward, revealing the delicate piping of his moon-white undershirt. He slowly tilted his head, his right eyelid twitching unnaturally. Then, he secretly made a "three" gesture to Su Jinli, who was standing by the dressing table. This was their pre-agreed signal, meaning "the third group of visitors has arrived."

"I...I miscalculated." Jiang Yan deliberately lowered his voice, making it sound weak and hoarse, with a slight tremor at the end. At the same time, his fingers pinched his thigh beneath the quilt, as if this would make his performance more convincing. "Three thousand taels of grain transport tax silver, I miscalculated the decimal point..." However, when he said "decimal point", his tongue accidentally stumbled. He thought to himself, "Oh no!" and quickly covered up the mistake with a violent cough.

Just then, Su Qingyao entered with graceful steps, carrying a gilded medicine bowl. As she entered, she saw Jiang Yan secretly applying rouge to his cheekbones. Su Qingyao's lips curled up slightly, revealing a hint of resignation, before placing the medicine bowl heavily on the bedside table. The silver hairpin in her hair swayed gently with her movements, casting a delicate, dazzling light on her temples.

"If you want to pretend to be sick, then pretend to be sick. Don't use my newly mixed 'Zhuangyuanhong' rouge as blush." ​​Su Qingyao leaned close to Jiang Yan, her fingertips almost poking Jiang Yan's face, with a hint of ridicule in her eyes, "I tried this color on Jinli's face yesterday. It's called 'Drunk Spring Breeze'. I didn't expect it to be quite suitable for your sickly face."

A faint fragrance wafted from the medicine bowl. Su Jinli curiously leaned in to take a closer look. It was clearly Su Qingyao's newly developed rouge water, not a tonic. Jiang Yan, realizing he had been discovered, coughed awkwardly twice, then made a "doctor" gesture with his fingers under the quilt, hinting that Su Qingyao's doctor was about to arrive. Young Marquis Su stared at the medicine bowl in confusion, scratching his head and saying, "Eldest sister, why does this medicine smell like the paint you used to paint my face?"

"What does a little kid know!" Su Qingyao glared at him, and when she turned around, her wide sleeves swept across the bedside table. A few drops of "tonic" in the medicine bowl shook out, and a few light pink flowers were spread on Jiang Yan's quilt, adding a different color to this slightly serious scene.

At this moment, a clear and pleasant sound of rings and pendants came from the front yard. It was obvious that it was the sound of the unique decorations of the palace maids. Jiang Yan's heart tightened, and he suddenly closed his eyes, tilted his head, leaned on the pillow, and pretended to faint. His hair was a little messy and scattered on the lotus pattern of the pillowcase, creating an appearance of being terminally ill. Seeing this, Su Jinli immediately understood, and her eyes instantly turned red. She rushed to the bed and deliberately knocked over the bronze mirror on the dressing table. A loud "clang" startled the swallows perched on the beams, flapping their wings and flying around the house in panic.

"Look, Imperial Physician," Su Jinli held a handkerchief, pretending to wipe away non-existent tears, but her fingertips secretly pinched the back of Jiang Yan's hand, signaling him to continue acting, "She has been unconscious since last night, and she kept muttering 'I miscalculated...'"

An old doctor with white hair and beard walked into the room with steady steps, stroking his goatee and looking solemn. He walked to the bedside, leaned over slightly, and gently placed his fingertips on Jiang Yan's wrist pulse. At this moment, the hand under the quilt suddenly pinched her inner thigh fiercely. Su Jinli clearly saw Jiang Yan's Adam's apple roll unconsciously, and beads of sweat gradually seeped out of his forehead. She hurriedly wiped his skin with a handkerchief, but when she touched his skin, she was shocked to find that the temperature was abnormal - this was not an illness, but clearly the hot sweat caused by pinching too hard.

"The pulse is weak and slightly stagnant..." the imperial physician pondered, twirling his beard as his sharp eyes swept over Jiang Yan's flushed cheekbones and slightly trembling eyelids. "This top scholar is... overthinking, and his mind is exhausted." He slowly turned to Su Jinli and spoke seriously, "He needs to rest for a hundred days, especially avoiding mental and physical exertion. Madam Su must be carefully cared for, and the top scholar must not be allowed to touch the abacus again."

When seeing off the imperial physician, Su Qingyao specially stuffed a box of "Zhuangyuanhong" rouge into his medicine box with a meaningful smile on her face: "Thank you, imperial physician. This is the tranquilizing powder that my daughter has newly formulated. It can help you sleep." The imperial physician looked at the exquisite phoenix pattern on the rouge box, and the hand that was originally stroking his beard paused slightly, and then he hurriedly said goodbye, as if he understood something.

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