The Amusing Adventures of a Directionally Challenged Dad and Daughter

Chapter 31

In the squad, there was a man named Jin Qiaoren who had studied the art of healing, but he was not proficient in it - he could only say that he could treat non-fatal conditions.

He had learned a little from the old village physician, and could treat simple colds, fevers, and external injuries, but anything more difficult was beyond his capabilities.

The wounds on the young man's face had started to fester, and Doctor Jin had to slowly clean them for him. The pain must have been excruciating, as the young man woke up midway through the process.

"You're awake? It must be quite painful, but try not to move. I'm dressing your wounds right now."

Chang'an had amoxicillin in her space - an oral anti-inflammatory medicine. After dressing the young man's wounds, she dissolved the powder from the capsules in water and gave it to him to drink, though she wasn't sure if it would work.

However, she couldn't give him a whole capsule. This substance wasn't meant to exist in this world, and she also didn't want to invite trouble by giving it to someone whose identity was unknown.

In any case, don't underestimate people from ancient times - some of them were far more intelligent than you could imagine, especially those who had experienced court intrigue. Ten of you wouldn't be enough to match their wits.

This young man was clearly no ordinary person. Just because you have a special space doesn't mean you're the main character. Caution is key in all matters.

The powdered medicine gave the water a bitter taste. What's wrong with the water tasting a little off in these times of calamity? Couldn't it just be from an unclean water source?

After Doctor Jin finished dressing the young man's wounds, he looked like he had been pulled out of the water. The wounds on the young man's face were just too difficult to treat.

His face was ruined. Unless they could find the divine physician Men Ji to treat him, this young man would have to live out his life with that disfigured face.

The young man passed out again from the pain. Chang'an looked at his bandaged head and realized he might not be able to drink the water himself.

"Aunt Zhang, could you please help feed him this half-bowl of water?"

She had no desire to care for him herself, much less take in a foundling. No matter his status or identity, she wanted to keep her distance.

If she ended up rescuing someone like Fu Shenxing, she would rather die than have anything to do with him.

"Sure, leave it to Aunt Zhang," Little Ya's Mother took the clay bowl, which also had a wooden spoon.

The young man lay on the carriage behind them while Chang'an returned to the mule cart to eat her own hodgepodge stew.

This time, Old Gu Six and the others had found some potatoes - not as many as last time, about a hundred pounds or so. Old Gu Six didn't divide them up, giving them all to Chang'an's group.

Yang Poxiao and Little Ya's Dad each got around 40 pounds, Mu got 20 pounds, and Little Ya's Dad and Yang Poxiao also gave him a few more pounds.

Old Gu Six didn't catch any game this time. He searched the mountain forests but couldn't find a single living creature, so he had to return with just water.

When they returned, they found the injured young man had joined their squad. Old Gu Six asked Chang'an, "Girl, why did you bring back this burden?"

The young man: ...There's something I don't know whether I should say or not.

"I didn't go out of my way to rescue him. He was just behind the tree where I was cooking. I happened to see him, so I'll let him leave once he recovers."

"Alright."

The disaster refugees traveled in groups of three to five, ten to fifteen people. Chang'an's group of sixty to seventy was considered a large squad.

Their large numbers meant no one dared to provoke them on the road, and they could even rest at noon, unlike before when there were too many refugees for them to rest safely.

The young man had a high fever for two days before his condition improved slightly on the third day. Chang'an was the one who had him rescued, so she made the rice porridge he ate.

Chang'an only cooked the porridge, while Little Ya's Mother and some other women took care of feeding him.

The young man knew his face was ruined. He remained silent for several days until Doctor Jin tried to console him.

"A real man can't give up on living like this. As long as you're alive, there's hope. If you die, it's your enemies who benefit."

It's not known whether it was those words about benefiting his enemies that motivated him, but the young man gradually regained his vitality and didn't need to be coaxed into eating anymore. Although he had been in a state of withdrawal these past few days, he knew the porridge he ate every day was made by Chang'an.

He began helping Chang'an gather firewood and tend the fire. Since his bandaged face only allowed him to eat porridge, Chang'an would cook it separately for him, adding anti-inflammatory medicine that gave it a medicinal and bitter taste.

The young man simply thought Chang'an was adding medicinal soup to the porridge. She would bring out a clay pot from the carriage with the ingredients already inside, so he couldn't see what was put in.

At noon that day, the young man asked Chang'an, "What's your name?"

"Chang'an, as in 'everlasting peace' Chang'an," she replied casually as she stirred the chicken porridge in the pot.

The young man was silent for a few breaths before saying, "Your name is nice. Could you give me a name too?"

Chang'an thought this young man must have a screw loose. He hadn't lost his memory, just had his face disfigured - but that didn't mean he needed a new name, did it? Was he that bored?

As if sensing Chang'an's thoughts, the young man added, "My old name represents the past. I want to start anew, so please give me a new name."

Chang'an suddenly thought of 'Chang Le' (everlasting joy), "'Chang Le' then, as in 'Chang Le' from 'everlasting peace and joy'."

The young man was delighted. Although his face was bandaged and his expression couldn't be seen, his cheerful tone made his happiness evident.

"Chang Le, Chang Le, I love it. Thank you."

Chang Le's past became a secret unknown to anyone. To Chang'an and the others, they only knew the young man who was now called Chang Le.

They were merely passing travelers in each other's lives. After a brief stopover, they would each go their separate ways.

A month later, Chang Le's face was finally healed enough to remove the bandages. However, he didn't let anyone see it, especially Chang'an.

He and Doctor Jin retreated to a secluded spot. When the bandages were removed, Chang Le's face was revealed to be covered in crisscrossing scars. Doctor Jin had seen it for over a month and was unfazed.

He just felt sorry for the young man and wondered who could have been so cruel.

Doctor Jin gave Chang Le a bamboo hat with a hanging veil of gauze that Chang'an had taken from one of her dresses in the space.

"Chang Le, if you can find the divine physician Men Ji, there's hope for your face to be restored."

Chang Le pondered for a moment before replying, "The divine physician's whereabouts are elusive, especially in these chaotic times. It may be very difficult to find him."

He had met Men Ji once before when the physician came to the Capital to treat a nobleman. Chang Le happened to see him then, so he knew what Men Ji looked like, but he didn't know where the physician was.

"Don't be disheartened, maybe fate will bring you together naturally," they said.

The two returned to the group. Chang Le saw that Chang'an didn't ask about his face, and he breathed a sigh of relief, afraid that Chang'an would be curious. Should he show her or not?

Showing her might scare her, but not showing her might make her angry.

As usual, Chang'an rarely spoke to him, her attitude cool and distant, maintaining a neither-too-close-nor-too-far distance. Chang Le felt that if not for him being the one she rescued, Chang'an wouldn't bother acknowledging him.

Chang'an said indifferently, "Since you're better now, you can leave."

Chang Le was at a loss for words, weakly asking, "Can I travel with you for a while? I'll help with the chores."

"How long?"

"Half a month, please, just half a month?"

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