Chapter 2: The Wounded Fire Man

Chapter 2

She passed out after injecting herself with a drug she had developed, and when she woke up, she was here.

Some unfamiliar memories in her mind were slowly intertwining with her own.

Yuan Qingling had long been thinking of and missing King Chu Yuwen Hao. After turning fifteen and coming of age, she went to a banquet at the princess's residence and schemed to frame King Chu for "taking advantage" of her, going through great lengths to get what she wished and become King Chu's consort.

But sadly, after marrying into the royal residence for a year, despite her best efforts, King Chu hadn't even glanced at her.

As a woman of science, although she had never been in love, the lingering painful tearing told her that the original owner must have gone through an invasive act before her death.

The remnants of the original owner's memories in her mind also confirmed this.

Having gone from genius researcher to the consort of some unknown dynasty's King Chu, the only thing Yuan Qingling regretted was that she could no longer continue her research project.

Soul transmigration, something completely unscientific, happening to her, she was not overly worried about her circumstances, but rather thought that if she could return to modern times, she might study parapsychology.

The excessive blood loss made her feel dizzy and muddleheaded, so she simply stopped thinking and went back to bed to sleep.

She didn't know how much time passed, but outside came an enormous boom, accompanied by a miserable shriek.

Qi Amah shoved her away furiously. "Don't touch my grandson!"

"By the time the doctor gets here..."

Seeing her about to continue speaking, Qi Amah pushed her forcefully back into the room and shut the door.

Yuan Qingling fell to the ground from the push. A cold sentence echoed in her mind: "There is no need to treat her as your mistress. Just treat her as one more dog kept by the Chu royal residence."

She was just a dog, so naturally the servants would not respect her either.

Yuan Qingling slowly lay back down on the bed, listening to the boy's cries of pain growing distant outside. He must have been moved somewhere else.

That child looked about ten years old or so?

What a pity. If treatment was delayed, not only might he lose eyesight, he could also lose his life to infection.

Yuan Qingling did not have a particularly compassionate heart. She only believed that what she had studied was medicine and medicinal and viral research. Her family were all doctors, and ever since she was little, the topic her elders and forebears had discussed most at home was a doctor's responsibility and methods of treatment.

In the Yuan family's eyes, healing was a calling.

They practiced what they preached, devoting their entire lives to doing this well.