Fever's End and the Fiery Chicken
Ryeon opened her eyes in a daze. From beside her came a wail of "Aigoo, aigoo," which cut off with a sharp gasp, as if the person had startled herself, before falling silent again.
"Baby! Oh, my baby, are you awake?"
"Mother…."
Her body rocked once, and Ryeon realized she'd been pulled into her mother's embrace. Wijicheong's face was streaked with tears.
The physician hurried over, declaring that Ryeon's condition upon waking was excellent, but Wijicheong still couldn't let go of her hand.
After Danmok Cheon-gi and Danmok Hyeon-u had come and gone, and Ryeon had handed the sleeping Danmok Bi—who was clinging to her feet—to Nanny Jang, she finally learned what had happened.
She'd pushed herself from dawn making Qinglian Water, which was fine, but during breakfast that morning, she'd fainted dead away and burned with fever for three straight days, alternately scorching hot and ice-cold.
Ha….
Ryeon knew exactly why she'd collapsed.
Maintain Spiritual Energy at 10 or above.
I'm going insane. It was all 'drop it below 50' before, and now it's 'keep it at 10 or above'?
She'd been thrilled at the thought of using up all her Spiritual Energy making Qinglian Water, and this was the result!
Still, waking up this time wasn't as agonizing as when she'd first emerged from her seven-year coma.
As Ryeon puzzled over it inwardly, running a hand over her chest, the physician smiled kindly at Wijicheong.
"This clever child somehow procured black stone herb in this season—it's thanks to that, mostly. Generosity and good deeds always come back around, as they say."
It was a good deed indeed: taking in an orphaned boy with nowhere to go and raising him like one of her own children, a brother and friend to them all.
"Black stone… herb?"
Wijicheong nodded through her tear-streaked eyes, stroking Ryeon's cheek over and over.
"When someone suddenly loses a lot of blood or their vitality wanes, they need replenishment. But in a weakened state, it can't be too deficient… nor too overflowing."
The physician continued, eyeing Ryeon's condition.
"Black stone herb restores vitality without overflowing—it lets the excess flow away naturally, making it perfect for cases like this. But it's a herb that only grows in late winter to early spring, so it's hard to find."
"Hwaryun brought it for you. I can't thank him enough…."
Hwaryun?
Ryeon's eyes widened, then she realized he wasn't nearby.
Noticing who she was looking for, the physician smiled gently.
"He spent all day climbing mountains on a chilly autumn day, so he's down with a cold. Now that you've awakened, young miss, I'll go check on him too."
Ryeon tried to leap up and follow, but dizziness made her stagger. Nanny Jang and Wijicheong rushed to her side in alarm.
Hwaryun lay abed, suffering a disagreeable fever and aching muscles, but he didn't miss the faint voices from outside.
—They gave the young miss a decoction of that herb. She only managed half, I wonder if she'll be all right.
The talk soon shifted.
—She opened her eyes today—they say she's safe now!
Just as Hwaryun thought, Maybe this settles it—
—The physician's gone to see that boy now, and the young miss is with him….
What?
Hwaryun reached to rub his feverish eyes, but a cooler, smaller hand got there first. No heat in it at all.
Its owner murmured, "You idiot…."
Who's calling who an idiot? Hwaryun thought, but his throat was too raw to speak.
Soon, a lukewarm liquid seeped past his lips. The bitterness jolted him awake; he tried to spit it out, but the hand's owner coaxed him.
"It's the decoction. Drink it all, and you'll be a good boy, okay?"
As if I'd fall for that.
Hwaryun grumbled inwardly but had no choice but to swallow what was offered. After gulping it down and squinting his eyes, a small girl's silhouette emerged in the hazy light. Above her pitch-black pupils, stars twinkled like the night sky.
Her face, halved from what he remembered, came slowly into focus.
"Ryuni! You're awake?"
He nodded sluggishly, and she straightened his blankets, wiped the sweat from his brow with care, then applied salve to the scrapes on his hands.
"Who goes wandering mountains for a late-winter herb like that?"
Hwaryun stared at the girl's grumbling face, then burrowed into his blankets.
"Yeah. Shouldn't have given it all to the fabric shop and just taken ice. If I'd known, I'd have saved some. Finding more black stone herb now was such a hassle."
As he grumbled in a raspy voice about months ago, the girl's starry eyes shimmered with tears. Hwaryun regretted his careless words for a moment.
Then he drifted off briefly, only to wake and realize night had fallen. A mere blink, and he'd been deep asleep.
Lying there, he touched his forehead and gave a wry smile. A slightly warm cloth—damp from his own fever—lay in his hand. Left by Ryeon.
The thought that her hand had been there and now was gone left an odd emptiness. Disbelieving his own feelings, Hwaryun clicked his tongue and sat up.
That was when—
Clack.
"Oh? Ryuni! You're up?"
Hwaryun, half-risen, widened his eyes in surprise. A small girl, a damp cloth over her arm and a basin in both hands, strode toward his bed.
"…Nui?"
"Thirsty? Here, drink."
She wiped his forehead with the cloth, then tilted the water pitcher to offer lukewarm water.
"Even if you're hot from fever, you can't gulp cold water."
"…Why is Nui still here…?"
"What do you mean, why? Because you're sick."
Chattering away, she held the cup to his lips, called outside for porridge, checked the scrapes on his knee, and tucked him back in.
"Why here…."
"I told you. I have to look after you because you're sick."
"Me…?"
"Who else would I look after?"
Her duck-like pout was a habit when she concentrated. So what was she focusing on now?
Wiping my forehead…?
A thin, winter-branch hand held the wet cloth, brushing his eyes.
"No helping it, then…."
"No helping what?"
Hwaryun trailed off and burrowed back into the blankets.
"Ryuni? Eat the porridge before you sleep, even if you're sleepy. That's how you'll get better."
"Mmmph."
"Ryuni, be good, okay?"
"Mmph."
"Good boy."
Hwaryun squirmed a bit but couldn't resist her coaxing and sat up.
"I… I'll eat it myself, so stop."
"Your arms are still shaky, and your hands are full of scrapes—no."
"Nui's not fully better either."
"I am. I slept a ton. Hurry and eat."
"This is so embarrassing…."
"What's embarrassing about being sick?"
"Really…."
"Come on, eat up!"
How can this be….
Ryeon stood before the chicken coop in Wolyeongjae's kitchen yard, sighing.
One corner was dominated by a grandly grown ogol chicken, filling the space, while the others huddled in fear at the far end.
Clearly now, this ogol chicken looked less like a chicken and more like… something else. It was as big as a turkey.
"Worried? Is that it?"
Perhaps sensing her concern over its thinned frame from illness, the ogol chicken's jet-black eyes welled up.
"But seriously, why are you like this?"
Ryeon slipped her hand through the coop wires to stroke it, murmuring. The tips of its feathers glimmered with a mystical red sheen.
"See? Totally phoenix-like, right? Or maybe Zhuque? They're similar, aren't they?"
Ryeon whipped her head toward the sudden voice. There stood Hwaryun, looking every bit the proper young master now, frowning at the chicken.
They'd both fallen ill and recovered side by side, but Hwaryun had emerged surprisingly healthier and more robust than before.
"It…."
She couldn't bring herself to say it couldn't be.
The ogol chicken's black eyes, gleaming red, blinked innocently up at her. Those eyes alone made it impossible to imagine it viciously bullying the others and hogging all the feed.
"Hm. Still looks that way to you?"
"Does it not look that way to Nui? Like a plain old chicken?"
"No…."
Could it be… turning into a spirit beast from eating Spiritual Energy?
But a chicken becoming Zhuque? Absurd. Though it did seem to carry that mystical aura unique to spirit beasts….
Anyway, Zhuque has flame feathers, right? This one's black. Sure, a reddish tint, but….
As Ryeon tried to rationalize, Hwaryun blurted, "If you raise that ogol chicken into a phoenix, the county magistrate will drag Nui off."
"What?"
Ryeon nearly choked on a laugh.
Hwaryun, future young cult master of Machun-gyo, would have dismissed a mere county magistrate as less than a hangnail. But as a child, lumping him with tigers was oddly cute.
But Hwaryun was dead serious.
"He'll lock Nui in a coop and make her raise nothing but phoenixes."