Wen Zhao clearly wasn't very good at rowing. His boat had already drifted some distance away from the Prince of Ancheng's, far enough that voices could no longer carry between them.
Suddenly, Zheng Yutan raised her voice, seemingly trying to stop Wen Zhao. He stepped toward her—and, as expected, his foot slipped. He fell straight into the water.
A faint smile curved Zheng Qian's lips.
Just as expected.
This move of Zheng Yutan's had likely been meant for Wen Zhao from the start. But if she had been alone with him on the boat when an "accident" happened, it would have worked against her.
Zheng Yutan panicked, screaming for help. Only then did she remember that Wen Zhao had already stepped in the hair oil she had poured, spreading it across the deck—now onto her side as well. In her panic, she stepped on it too.
The boat was already slippery. With oil underfoot and fear overtaking her, she lost her balance and fell into the water as well.
"Quick! Save them!" someone shouted.
Nearby, four noble ladies had insisted on squeezing into the same boat, crowding along one side of the railing despite repeated warnings. One of them tugged hard at lotus leaves, and when the boatman tried to shift position to balance the weight, the boat capsized.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Zheng Qian: "..."
The Wen family scrambled to rescue people, when suddenly Madam Wen screamed, "Where's Zhao'er?!"
It seemed Wen Zhao hadn't been pulled out yet.
Zheng Qian quickly calculated the time and frowned slightly. Wen Zhao had fallen in first—three to four minutes had already passed.
If he wasn't brought up soon, he would likely drown to death.
Six minutes without oxygen to the brain could be fatal.
She had no watch and couldn't measure the exact time, which made her uneasy.
She was a military doctor—her instinct was to save people. Besides, she didn't want Wen Zhao to die. If he died, she would have to observe a year of mourning for him.
In this feudal era, women held very low status.
A man who lost his wife didn't need to mourn and could remarry at any time. But a woman who lost her husband had to mourn for three years. Even a fiancée whose betrothed died had to observe a year of mourning.
Zheng Qian could already imagine it—if Wen Zhao died, she would still have to return the betrothal gifts. And given her younger sister's vicious nature, she might even spread rumors that Zheng Qian brought misfortune to her fiancé.
Zheng Qian didn't want Wen Zhao to die.
At the very least, not while still being her fiancé. If the engagement were broken, then his life or death would no longer concern her.
She grew anxious and was about to jump into the water herself when a servant from the Wen family surfaced.
"Found the young master! Found him!" the servant shouted, swimming desperately toward the shore.
Xiao Mingyu also began rowing back.
A total of six people had fallen into the water. No one was in the mood for leisure anymore. Especially Wen Zhao—when he was brought out, he showed no signs of life.
Because the estate was near water and accidents had happened before, the Wen family had long arranged for a physician to be stationed there.
In this regard, the Wen family had always been thorough. Usually, the physician would simply sit around, enjoy a good meal, and leave with a reward—nothing ever happened.
They had even considered whether it was worth inviting a doctor at all.
Yet today, something had gone wrong.
And the one in trouble was the Wen family's own young master.
Madam Wen was frantic, urging people to fetch the physician immediately.
The physician on duty today was the well-known Doctor Qian from the capital.
But by the time she called for him, he had already been brought over.
The young ladies had only swallowed a bit of water and were mostly fine. Wen Zhao, however, was in critical condition.
Everyone gathered to watch.
"Zhao'er! Doctor, please check on him!" Madam Wen cried.
Doctor Qian was experienced. He stepped forward, checked Wen Zhao's pulse and breathing, and his face changed drastically.
"Madam… please prepare yourself. He… he has no breath, no pulse…"
Madam Wen froze, unable to catch her breath, on the verge of fainting as tears streamed down her face.
All the guests were young—this was their first time seeing death up close. And it was someone they knew. Fear spread among them as they quietly stepped back.
Wen Jin stood there in a daze, completely lost, as if unable to accept reality. She simply stared blankly at Wen Zhao.
While everyone else retreated, Zheng Qian stepped forward.
"Miss…" Doctor Qian tried to stop her.
"Let me see!" Zheng Qian said.
"There's nothing to see. He's already gone," Doctor Qian said sorrowfully. "Please step back."
Zheng Qian ignored him.
She knew time was critical—she had to try.
She examined Wen Zhao. He had no breathing or pulse. His lips were bluish, and his extremities had turned cyanotic. She checked his pupils—they were dilated to about 6 mm.
At this point, even Zheng Qian sensed the situation was dire.
Wen Zhao had likely lost consciousness as soon as he fell into the water, leading to prolonged brain hypoxia. By the time he was rescued, he had already stopped breathing.
I need a defibrillator, IV access, cardiac monitoring… she thought rapidly.
At the very least, a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. Medications—epinephrine, lobeline, dopamine infusion… or at least a cardiac stimulant?
But she hadn't brought her medical kit.
With so many people watching, she couldn't take items out of her hidden space—it would make her look like a monster.
Even without instruments, she could tell: his heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure were likely all zero.
In the past, she had always relied on equipment, joking that she was just an "operator of machines."
Now, she had no choice but to rely solely on her own medical skills.
A cardiac stimulant, she decided immediately.
Ideally, she would use atropine, lidocaine, epinephrine, and dopamine infusion—but she couldn't take out so many drugs.
She did have a tiny injectable cardiac stimulant hidden in her palm, small enough to use unnoticed.
With that as support, she would open the airway, then begin cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
All these thoughts passed through her mind in no more than three seconds.
To outsiders, it looked like Zheng Qian immediately rushed forward, tore open Wen Zhao's outer robe, and pressed her palm against his chest a few times.
In reality, she had just administered the hidden injection.
Then she lifted the back of his neck with one hand, pressed his forehead with the other, and opened his airway.
With the airway clear, she began CPR—performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Everyone nearby was shocked.
"She… she's kissing a dead man…" someone cried in a trembling voice.
Doctor Qian was also stunned and reached to pull her away. "Miss, you… you cannot defile the dead… step aside…"
"He's my fiancé. This is not defilement," Zheng Qian replied quickly while continuing compressions.
Her mind was already debating whether to administer a second dose of the stimulant. She couldn't hear the surrounding noise anymore.
Her actions terrified everyone present.
Even the Wen family stood frozen in shock.