Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang Novel - Chapter 46

Chapter 46

My father-in-law and the elder in charge of the medical hall took turns checking the child’s pulse, each wearing a deep frown of puzzlement. Neither could detect any major irregularities, and it was clear they were both perplexed.

Aside from the girl’s noticeable love for sweets, she seemed entirely well—her cheeks were full of color and her energy was far from that of an unwell child. Still, I had my own worries. The endless stream of sugary candy she consumed was concerning, particularly given the danger of childhood diabetes. The treats were loaded with sugar, and what I’d observed so far was enough to make me uneasy.

‘I’ve already spotted three of those candies. Where is she getting them all?’

As I continued watching the girl contentedly enjoying her candy, the discussion between the Peng Patriarch and the elders carried on.

“So, she occasionally suffers from labored breathing, develops extensive rashes across her skin, and sometimes faints?” my father-in-law inquired, his expression grave.

“That’s correct. At times, her pulse grows faint and her heart races,” the Peng Patriarch affirmed.

He went on to describe how large rashes would emerge and vanish across her body, accompanied by breathing difficulties, loss of consciousness, drops in blood pressure, and a quickened heartbeat. Eventually, the symptoms would slowly recede, and she would wake up again.

My father-in-law tilted his head in thought before asking, “Have you consulted any physicians?”

“Don’t remind me. Those charlatans! My child nearly stopped breathing multiple times, and they couldn’t identify a single cause,” the Peng Patriarch grumbled resentfully.

“What about the Immortal of Medicine or the Immortal of Herbs?” my father-in-law pressed, his tone even but intent.

“They claimed not to know their whereabouts. One of the Immortal of Herbs’ disciples examined her, but declared her perfectly healthy. It wasn’t until one of them made an outrageous suggestion that I nearly lost my composure!” The Peng Patriarch’s face flushed with anger at the recollection.

“What did the disciple say?”

What came next was far more severe than I had anticipated.

“…They proposed that the symptoms might indicate poisoning.”

“Poisoning!?”

The mood in the room shifted abruptly, turning cold with shock.

Now I understood why the Peng Patriarch had journeyed so far with his daughter. Poisoning was the most plausible cause for such symptoms, and there was no better place to seek help than the Tang Clan, famed for their knowledge of toxins.

‘So he came looking for an expert? But we aren’t healers of poison—we’re its masters in funerary rites…’

Although the Tang Clan was celebrated for our proficiency with poisons, our specialty leaned more toward their use in burial customs, not in medicine.

“Hmm… From what you describe, it does sound consistent with poisoning,” my father-in-law conceded.

The Peng Patriarch’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t be serious! I refused to believe it when the disciple from the Immortal of Herbs said it, but now the leader of the Tang Clan tells me the same… I… I can’t accept this!”

“Poisoning within the Peng Clan?” muttered one elder, visibly stunned.

“It can’t be. This is unthinkable,” added another.

The tension in the room was thick. The Peng Patriarch’s reaction and the grim faces of the elders made it clear this was more than a health scare—it struck at the heart of the clan itself.

‘What’s really happening here?’ I wondered, sensing the gravity in the air. This wasn’t just about a child’s illness—it concerned the clan’s integrity.

Just then, Hwa-eun’s voice reached me through a silent mental transmission.

[If the child truly shows signs of poisoning, it implies the poison came from within the clan. This is grave. It suggests a traitor among their own.]

Her words struck me like lightning. If the girl had been poisoned, the possibility of betrayal within her family was all too real.

‘Could someone in her own family have done this?’

The implications were profound. In the Tang Clan, family meant more than blood—it meant loyalty and unbreakable bonds. The idea of one’s own kin turning against them was deeply unsettling.

The Peng Patriarch’s reaction—a mix of fury and disbelief—confirmed my fears.

“Let’s speak no more of this! I will not entertain suspicions against my own kin!” he declared, his voice rising with emotion.

“Of course, let’s not assume the worst. Poisoning doesn’t always imply a person behind it. It could be an accidental exposure—an unknown toxic plant or a poisoned object within the household,” my father-in-law suggested, trying to soothe the rising emotions.

The Peng Patriarch’s anger seemed to cool slightly, but tension still laced his words. “You’re right. It could be something like that. Will you investigate further?”

At that, my father-in-law began a more detailed examination, as a physician would. He posed a series of questions to the Peng Patriarch.

“When did the symptoms first arise? Where did these episodes occur?” he asked, his voice measured, indicating his intent to delve deeper.

The Peng Patriarch reflected briefly before answering. “Mostly within the Peng Clan compound. In her own room, and the Four Harmony Pavilion. Once she collapsed in the training hall. It’s happened twice at night, and four times during the day.”

“There seems to be no common thread among these incidents,” my father-in-law observed, his expression growing more solemn as the details unfolded. The situation appeared more complex with each revelation.

The conversation stretched late into the night, but by day’s end, no clear answers had emerged. The Peng Clan was allotted a small, unused Four Harmony Pavilion for their stay, since the main guest quarters were already occupied by representatives from the Murim Alliance, the Ami Sect, the Qing Sect, and the Wudang Sect.

It was decided that the child would be closely monitored to see if her symptoms returned. Whether this was poisoning or some rare ailment, more observation was needed. The coming days would be crucial.

***

After the evening meal, Hwa-eun entered my room carrying several books and a small medicine case filled with vials.

Thud!

The moment she opened one vial, a sweet fragrance filled the air. She uncorked two more and asked me to tell the difference between their scents.

“Can you distinguish these two aromas?”

“Hmm… Don’t they smell the same?” I replied uncertainly.

“No. This one is the scent of a green apple. This is the scent of a ripe apple,” Hwa-een clarified.

Both smelled distinctly applish, but she emphasized the importance of telling an unripe scent from a ripe one.

The reason we were practicing with scents was that Hwa-eun had officially begun training me to become a poison sommelier.

‘Poison perfumer, is it? Well then…’

To master poisons, I had to learn to identify the aromas of various toxins. Having already aced this test herself, Hwa-eun was now tutoring me personally.

“Do you sense a difference now?” she asked again.

“Not really…” I admitted, still struggling.

Hwa-eun sighed and lifted a finger, launching into a stern explanation.

“It may be hard to grasp why we practice distinguishing these, but once I explain, you’ll understand. Listen carefully, So-ryong.”

“Yes, Hwa-eun.”

“We practice identifying apple scents because the smell of an unripe apple resembles the paralysis poison often used by the Safans. The scent of a ripe apple, however, is similar to the poison known as ‘San-gong.’ This is among the first lessons because it’s one of the most vital distinctions.”

“Ah, I see,” I replied, beginning to understand.

Hwa-eun continued, “The Tang Clan’s ‘nose’ also serves as a mark of identity when we are abroad. A forged token can be made, but our scent cannot be copied. If anyone questions your ties to the Tang Clan, your sense of smell can prove it.”

‘So that’s why it’s so important.’

The ability to recognize specific scents would serve as proof of one’s affiliation with the Tang Clan.

I vowed to apply myself more diligently to the training. However, as we continued, commotion erupted outside. A servant rushed into the courtyard and headed straight for my father-in-law’s quarters.

“What’s happening?” Hwa-eun asked, moving toward the window.

The servant answered breathlessly, “Miss, Young Miss Peng has collapsed.”

“Yeong-yeong?” Hwa-eun asked, her face tightening with worry.

She turned to me, her expression urgent. “So-ryong, let’s go!”

I nodded, and we hurried out, making our way to where the Peng family was lodged. I was keen to see what was happening.

We arrived at the courtyard with a large zelkova tree and found Yeong-yeong lying unconscious, her face pale. The Peng Patriarch knelt beside her, attempting to transfer energy into her chest.

The scene reminded me of when my father-in-law had revived the village chief’s granddaughter back in Hainan.

“What happened!?” my father-in-law demanded as he rushed over.

The Peng Patriarch shook his head. “I don’t know. She was sitting in the pavilion, started coughing, and then suddenly fainted.”

“Let me check her pulse,” my father-in-law said, kneeling and taking her wrist. After a moment, he looked up, his face clouded with confusion. “This is strange. Her signs are consistent with poisoning…”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Suddenly, the Peng Patriarch struck his own face three times, as if overcome with frustration.

“Patriarch!” the servants cried out in alarm.

“Patriarch, what are you doing?” my father-in-law asked, bewildered.

The Peng Patriarch spat out a tooth and wiped blood from his mouth. “My apologies! For a moment, I doubted my own family. I cannot forgive myself!”

“What…?” my father-in-law responded, grasping the severity of the situation.

It seemed the Peng Patriarch had briefly suspected that someone among his own people was behind his daughter’s condition. After all, only those closest to Yeong-yeong could have caused this.

‘It’s natural to be suspicious when your child is involved,’ I thought, feeling the weight of the tension.

As the servants dropped to their knees and began slapping their own faces in remorse, Hwa-eun and I exchanged uneasy looks.

Smack! Smack!

The Peng Clan warriors joined in, striking themselves and muttering, “We failed to protect the Young Miss. This is our failure.”

“Enough! That’s enough!” my father-in-law shouted, his face pale with disbelief. “Stop this! We haven’t even confirmed it was poisoning!”

Despite his command, the members of the Peng Clan continued their ritual of self-punishment.

I stepped forward, raising my voice to intercede. “Everyone, please calm down! We must first determine whether this is poisoning or an illness. We can clear everyone of blame if we proceed carefully.”

The warriors halted, looking confused, before finally ceasing their actions.

The Peng Patriarch, his face strained, approached me urgently. “What do you mean?”

I was no medical expert, but I knew the first step was to eliminate the source. It was a basic principle I’d seen applied even with ailing animals.

“If it is poisoning, the first thing we should do is remove her clothing,” I began, but before I could finish, the Peng Patriarch seized me by the collar.

“What did you say!?” he roared, his eyes blazing.

He shook me violently, his anger erupting. Hwa-eun, standing beside me, shot me a look of pure disbelief.

‘No! It’s not what it sounds like!’ I wanted to explain desperately, but the situation was escalating too quickly.