His hand used to holding silver needles touched the blood-stained gun for the first time.
Qin Yan never thought that the young man who always said "I want to be a general" would burst open the door of the medical center with blood all over his body. Hidden under Shen Che's armor was half a volume of "Treatise on Febrile and Miscellaneous Diseases", and sandwiched between the pages were prescriptions he had drawn when he was sixteen. The ink had long been soaked with blood, but the four words "Qin Yan Qin Qi" could still be discerned.
"Yanzhi," Shen Che coughed up black blood, "Back then, you said that I was your most troublesome disease. Now... Can you find the antidote?"
Qin Yan's fingertips touched the hideous old wound on the other person's heart. The life he saved twenty years ago by cutting out blood and using it as medicine has now become a knife hanging over their heads. The intrigues in the court and the beacon smoke on the battlefield are intertwined. Silver needles and spears compete silently in the dark night. No one knows who is the bait in this game between doctors and generals.
Intention: original intention and redemption