Becoming the Cannon Fodder Wife of Crazy and Powerful Official - Chapter 13

Huo Qi dug a pit next to Old Wang’s place and buried Bai Lan’er’s body inside. To erase all traces, he and Xin Yueying burned the medicine chest along with it.

By the time they finished, it was already noon. Drenched in sweat, they stood blankly by the freshly turned earth.

Xin Yueying stared at the burial mound with a heavy expression.

Second murder.

At this rate, she might outpace Shen Qingqi in the descent into darkness.

“What kind of mess is this?” Huo Qi grumbled, wiping his brow as he shot Xin Yueying a glare, “Our Second Master came from a respectable family—never harmed a soul before this. And now look what you’ve dragged us into!”

Xin Yueying hunched her shoulders, “I didn’t mean for this to happen! It was an accident!”

“Be more careful next time!” Huo Qi slammed the hoe into the ground in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah…” she muttered weakly.

When they returned home, Shen Qingqi had already finished rendering the lard. He sat in the courtyard, idly feeding handfuls of grass to the little gray donkey—where he’d even gotten it, Xin Yueying had no idea.

She grabbed a saw and crouched down to remove the front doorstep, allowing Shen Qingqi’s wheelchair to move freely. The wood was already damp and rotten, crumbling easily under the blade. Tossing the ruined threshold aside, she turned to Shen Qingqi.

“Tomorrow, I’ll take the door down too and have Carpenter Yang make us a new one.”

“No need for the trouble,” Shen Qingqi said.

“I’ve been thinking—we’re already getting the short end of the stick. Might as well make him do some work for us to even it out.”

Shen Qingqi glanced at her, “…Fine.”

Her gaze drifted to his legs, guilt prickling at her.

“We should’ve made her treat you first… before settling scores.”

Shen Qingqi shook his head. He didn’t speak, but the meaning was clear,

What difference would it have made?

Xin Yueying wracked her memory. In the original story, Shen Qingqi’s legs never fully healed. At best, he could stand briefly—but not for long.

Now that she had thoroughly alienated Meng Ruxin, finding another doctor was a must.

Then it hit her.

If I remember right… There’s an old man at the foot of Oxhorn Mountain.

He’d once run a reputable clinic, well-respected in the area—until Meng Ruxin’s free diagnoses and medicine drove him out of business.

Driven to desperation, the old man retaliated in the most unhinged way possible: poisoning the village wells.

Of course, as the one who brewed the toxins, he alone held the antidote. For a brief, glorious moment, he regained the upper hand.

But justice, as they say, is blind but not stupid. Meng Ruxin cracked the case.

As the authorities dragged him away, the old man’s final act was to shake his fists at the heavens and curse,

“May Meng Ruxin’s sons be born without a$$holes!”

Now that’s the kind of legendary pettiness I can work with, Xin Yueying thought, eyes gleaming. She had to recruit him.

“I’m heading out,” she announced to Shen Qingqi, grabbing the lard jar—more fitting for the old man than Auntie Song—and hitching the donkey.

If memory served, his clinic was called Lame Horse Medical Hall. After asking around, she arrived at a dilapidated building, its crooked sign barely hanging on.

A vegetable vendor across the street called out, “Looking for treatment? This place closed ages ago. Go to the old locust tree—kind-hearted Ruxin gives free consultations there!”

Xin Yueying nearly gagged at the name, “Thanks, but I’d rather find this ‘Lame Horse’ doctor. Where does he live?”

“Him? Second house past the locust tree.”

Unbelievable. That sanctimonious fool had set up shop right outside her rival’s home. Disgusting doesn’t even begin to cover it. No wonder the man’s curses were so creative.

At the locust tree, Ruxin was conspicuously absent—likely still nursing her injuries. Only a few old men lounged in the shade.

Xin Yueying approached the second house. “Is Doctor Ma here?”

The door creaked open. A limping man eyed her suspiciously, “What do you want?”

“A consultation.”

“A—what?!” He gaped, then hurried to the gate, peering past her toward the tree.

Seeing no sign of “Kind-hearted Ruxin,” his shoulders slumped, “Ah. No wonder. She’s not here today.”

His mutter was faint, but Xin Yueying caught it.

She turned back to Lame Horse, “I’ve been to her. Honestly? Overrated.”

The doctor froze, then scrutinized her from head to toe and back again, “Young lady, you’re barely grown—how’d you get so discerning? Here, stick out your tongue.”

She obliged.

“Hmm. Rosy complexion, strong voice, lively eyes—just some redness on the tongue. Liver fire is a bit more, but no major ailments. Don’t even need to check your pulse.”

Xin Yueying flashed a thumbs-up, “Truly, ginger gets spicier with age!”

Lame Horse preened, stroking his goatee, “You flatter me!”

“My husband could use your expertise too,” she said, “but we’re swamped with harvest right now. Once things settle, I’ll come fetch you myself. Sound good?”

“I’m quick. Let’s go now,” he insisted.

She hadn’t even broached this with Shen Qingqi yet—she needed to ease him into the idea. More urgently, she had to prevent this long-oppressed doctor from snapping and poisoning another well.

Pulling out five taels of silver, she pressed them into his hand, “A deposit. Frankly, his condition is our family’s greatest sorrow. Cure him, and I’d pay my last coin gladly.” She then offered the lard jar, “A small token. Just give me a few days.”

The doctor’s gaze remained locked on the silver.

“This is too much.” He finally looked up, “What ails your husband?”

“Leg disease.”

Lame Horse glanced down at his own crippled right leg.

Then—with terrifying agility—he grabbed his right foot, stood on his left leg like a flamingo, and flung his right foot over his own shoulder, the limb draping limply behind his neck.

Xin Yueying recoiled, “What the—?! Don’t do anything rash!” Her voice cracked. This man is unhinged!