Imperial Palace, Qiyuan Hall.
A low cough echoed as the medicine stove began to BUBBLE, sending plumes of steam mixed with the bitter aroma of herbs into the air.
"Let me."
Ye Chutang spoke gently, taking the prepared medicine bowl from the hands of a palace attendant.
The attendant glanced at Emperor Muwu, who was reclining on a couch. Seeing him remain silent, the attendant gave a low assent and a fawning smile. "Miss Ye, your medical skills are unparalleled. Since you wrote the prescription yourself, it's best that you prepare it."
With that, the attendant lowered their gaze and stepped back.
The corners of Ye Chutang's lips curved slightly. She extinguished the stove's fire and used a thick cloth to lift the lid of the medicine pot.
She skillfully filtered out the dregs from the pot and poured out the brewed medicine.
Her hands, as slender and pale as spring onions, looked as if they had never known a day of hard work, yet her movements were deft and efficient.
