The light beyond the window paper was slowly changing from deep blue to gray-white.
Su Muchen stood by the table for a moment, bracing himself against its edge as he checked whether his body could keep going.
His clothes had been wet ever since the rescue in the snow. The long journey and low temperatures had drained his strength much faster than usual.
He glanced at the sky. Dawn was almost here.
“I need to go back for a while,” he said to Xiao Yuan, his voice hoarser than usual. “I need to bring more medicine, and some IV bags…”
He had barely taken a step when his entire body pitched forward.
His body had reached its limit.
After an entire night of emergency treatment in the snow, spending so long kneeling on the sled, and then treating Xiao for a second round without any rest, he had exhausted himself completely.
His stamina had never been particularly good to begin with. He had been relying entirely on his taut nerves to keep himself going.
Now that he had confirmed that Xiao was temporarily stabilized, those tightly wound nerves began to loosen one by one, like supports being slowly pulled away.
He did not hit the ground.
Xiao Yuan firmly caught him, one hand supporting his waist and the other steadying his shoulder.
Su Muchen rested his forehead against Xiao Yuan’s shoulder, breathing rapidly, his face pale.
“Muan,” Xiao Yuan said quietly. “You can’t keep pushing yourself.”
Su Muchen’s vision was somewhat blurred, but he still shook his head. “I can’t… The antibiotics can’t be interrupted. There can’t be any gap. Even if it’s only for a few hours, the infection could flare up again. His body can’t withstand an infection right now. The IV can’t be stopped either.”
He gritted his teeth and tried to straighten up, but his knees were weak and trembling uncontrollably.
Xiao Yuan did not let go of him.
He lowered his head and looked at Su Muchen’s face.
It looked hardly better than Xiao’s—pale, with bloodshot eyes, his lips faintly purplish from prolonged exposure to the cold.
The ancient door was on the third underground level, and it took some distance to get there from the southern courtyard.
In Su Muchen’s current condition, there was no way he could walk there himself.
Xiao Yuan simply helped him over to a chair against the wall and sat him down, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Sit.”
Su Muchen raised his head. “You—”
“I’ll go,” Xiao Yuan said. “Tell me what you need.”
Su Muchen knew his own condition. If he collapsed halfway there, things could become even worse.
“The row of medicine cabinets behind the counter… Second level. The antibiotics, in the blue boxes. Open the cabinet doors below and bring over all the IV bags you can carry.”
Afraid Xiao Yuan would not understand, he pointed at the IV bag currently in use.
“If Ningning and Qianqian are still there, you can ask them.”
Xiao Yuan nodded and turned, walking quickly toward a side room in the rear courtyard of the administrative office.
The side room was locked. Only Xiao Yuan had the key. It was a private room he used specifically for passing through the door.
Xiao Yuan opened the door and arrived in the rear room of Guichen Studio.
He walked through the corridor and into the front hall.
Su Ningning and Su Qianqian were both there.
When the person who emerged from the rear room turned out to be Xiao Yuan, both of them froze for a moment.
“Muan asked me to come get the medicine,” Xiao Yuan said. “He’s almost at his limit.”
Su Qianqian reacted extremely quickly.
Without asking for details, she simply turned to Su Ningning.
“Cart.”
Su Ningning had already brought out a cart that had been prepared in advance.
The upper level held several sealed boxes of medication, spare IV bags, sterile syringes, antibiotic vials, and nutritional fluids. The lower level held spare monitoring equipment, additional bags of saline, and gauze.
When she pushed the cart in front of Xiao Yuan, her tone was calm.
“Everything is ready.”
Xiao Yuan lowered his head and looked at the cart, filled with medical supplies whose names he could not even pronounce.
“You knew?”
“If he’s alive, he’ll come back for them,” Su Qianqian said.
She had already thought through everything that might happen.
If Xiao was alive, these things would be needed.
If they were not needed, that would mean the ancient mark had found its next Gatekeeper to inherit it.
Xiao Yuan said nothing more.
He took the cart and turned back toward the rear room. Behind him came Su Ningning’s worried voice.
“How is Xiao?”
Xiao Yuan did not turn around.
“Alive.”
He passed through the white light and returned to the side room in the Northern Frontier administrative office. The cart’s wheels made a faint sound against the stone floor.
He did not stop. Together with several personal guards, he moved the supplies to the southern courtyard.
When Xiao Yuan returned to the guest room in the southern courtyard, Su Muchen was still sitting in the chair. His complexion was slightly better than when Xiao Yuan had left, but he was still in poor shape.
Su Muchen had not expected Xiao Yuan to return so quickly.
When his eyes fell upon the medical supplies on the cart, he looked somewhat surprised.
“They prepared them?”
“Mm,” Xiao Yuan said.
Su Muchen braced himself against the back of the chair and stood, then walked to the table and picked up one of the boxes of medicine. He did not immediately begin.
His fingers rested on the edge of the lid.
He could not stay here forever. They could not rely entirely on him.
The door had only just gone out of control, and Xiao was still unconscious.
There was no way to immediately bring Xiao back to their world.
He turned to Xiao Yuan.
“Someone needs to learn.”
Xiao Yuan nodded without hesitation.
“The military physicians will learn.”
Xia Lanshi came over at this moment and stopped on the other side of the table. His gaze first swept over the unfamiliar instruments and medicine boxes on the table before he looked up at Su Muchen.
“I’ll learn alongside the military physicians. I know a little about medicine, and I have my pocket watch, so it will be easier to keep track of the timing.”
Su Muchen looked at Xia Lanshi.
This was the first time they had truly met.
And yet, through the words Xiao Yuan had relayed, through the medical regimen Su Muchen had written for him, and through their letters, they had already become familiar with each other.
But there was no time for polite greetings now.
Su Muchen simply nodded.
“Okay.”
He opened the medicine box, took out two sealed vials, and placed them on the table.
“These are antibiotics for intravenous injection. He needs them continuously. There can’t be any interruption. The interval cannot exceed six shichen.”
He glanced at Xia Lanshi.
“That’s twelve hours on your pocket watch. I already gave him the first dose. The second dose needs to be given twelve hours later.”
Xia Lanshi asked, “When was the first dose given?”
Su Muchen thought back. The tracking device had displayed the time.
He converted it mentally before answering.
“About exactly at Yin hour.”
Xia Lanshi said, “So the next dose will be at exactly Shen hour.”
The military physician immediately recorded it on paper.
“Exactly at Shen hour, second dose. Then every six shichen after that.”
Su Muchen nodded and added, “The third dose will be at exactly Yin hour the following day. The fourth at exactly Shen hour the following day. And so on.”
The military physician held his ink-dipped brush suspended over the paper, waiting for the next instruction.
Su Muchen picked up the medicine and pointed at the label on the vial.
“Each vial needs to be diluted with normal saline. After dilution, connect it to the IV tubing.”
He picked up the IV set and demonstrated the procedure once.
His fingers trembled slightly from exhaustion, but every movement remained precise.
The military physician kept his head lowered, his brush moving rapidly across the paper as he recorded every step. His handwriting was somewhat hurried and messy, but the instructions remained organized and clear.
Xia Lanshi watched intently.
“Keep the IV flow rate at this speed. One bag should finish in roughly two to three ke,” Su Muchen continued. “Watch his reaction during the infusion. If he develops a rash, rapid breathing, or worsening fever, stop immediately and wait for me to come.”
Standing at the other end of the table, Xia Lanshi watched every movement Su Muchen demonstrated and asked, “If he develops a fever, how do we determine whether it is caused by the infection or a reaction to the medication?”
Su Muchen did not stop what he was doing and answered quickly.
“Fever caused by infection rises continuously. A medication reaction is usually sudden and accompanied by a rash.”
He looked up at Xia Lanshi.
“You can record the timing of the fever. If it rises regularly and gradually, then it’s an infection.”
Xia Lanshi nodded.
The military physician’s brush moved rapidly across the paper. In the blink of an eye, more than half the page had already been filled.
Su Muchen finished giving them the final instructions.
He glanced toward Xiao.
The numbers on the monitor were gradually stabilizing. As long as they could keep him stable, Xiao would not die.
Xiao Yuan stood to one side.
Only after confirming that Su Muchen had finished explaining everything that needed to be explained did he speak to Xia Lanshi.
“I’ll leave this here to you. Handle everything that comes afterward, then get some rest as well.”
“This subject understands.”
Xia Lanshi acknowledged him.
Then he lowered his head to check that the military physician’s notes were accurate.
As Xiao Yuan passed Xia Lanshi, he lowered his voice.
“There’s a red spider lily mark on his right back.”
Xia Lanshi’s fingertips paused slightly, but he did not ask any questions.
Instead, he continued with his work.
Xiao Yuan walked over to Su Muchen and saw that he looked as though he was about to collapse.
He reached out and lifted him securely into his arms.
Su Muchen’s body tensed slightly when it came into contact with Xiao Yuan’s embrace, but soon relaxed.
He no longer had the strength to maintain any kind of defensive posture.
“…I—I can walk myself,” he said, his voice indistinct.
“You can,” Xiao Yuan said. “But I don’t have time to wait for you to walk slowly.”
Su Muchen’s gaze swept faintly around the room.
Xia Lanshi was discussing something with the military physician.
The personal guards all had their heads lowered, not daring to look directly at them.
He thought miserably: That’s it. I’ve lost my reputation on my very first visit to Dàshèng.
He felt embarrassed, but at this moment he could only rest his head against Xiao Yuan’s shoulder, because he truly had no strength left.
He closed his eyes and felt the slight rise and fall caused by walking, felt Xiao Yuan passing through the corridor without stopping.
He heard Xiao Yuan quietly say to someone beside him, “Prepare hot water in the main courtyard.”
Someone answered and hurried away, their footsteps faster than Xiao Yuan’s as they disappeared around the other end of the corridor.
When Xiao Yuan passed through the rear courtyard of the administrative office, the night wind came toward them, carrying the damp chill unique to early spring in the Northern Frontier.
The clothes on Su Muchen’s body had been soaked through by the snow and clung to his skin.
He trembled from the cold.
Xiao Yuan maintained a steady pace, making sure the person in his arms would not be jolted awake by the movement.
When they entered the main courtyard, the room was already lit.
The charcoal fire was burning more strongly than usual, and warmth flowed out through the crack beneath the door.
When Xiao Yuan placed Su Muchen on the edge of the bed, his movements were very gentle.
Su Muchen opened his eyes slightly and vaguely swept his gaze around.
An unfamiliar room, carrying the scent of pine charcoal—the same scent as Xiao Yuan himself.
He heard Xiao Yuan’s voice from above, closer than usual.
“You need to change your clothes.”
Su Muchen responded vaguely, sounding as though he agreed—or perhaps he had not really heard.
He felt someone reach over and remove his cloak, the movements quick.
When the fabric was pulled away, the sudden chill made him instinctively shrink back.
His indistinct voice squeezed out from his throat.
“…I’ll take it off myself.”
His hands could no longer even lift properly, but his consciousness was still resisting.
Xiao Yuan’s movements stopped for a moment.
He said quietly, “Okay.”
The hands that had been helping him undress withdrew.
Su Muchen closed his eyes and tried to undo his buttons himself.
His fingers, numb from the cold and exhaustion, refused to cooperate. They repeatedly slipped over the edge of the fabric without managing to undo anything.
He heard Xiao Yuan sigh.
Very softly, like a sound that had been deliberately suppressed.
Then those hands reached over again, slower and gentler than before.
He did not refuse again.
Because he no longer had the strength to.
He felt those fingers move steadily, without any unnecessary motion, slipping his damp shirt from his body.
Then came his equally soaked trousers.
Next, someone gently lifted him and placed him into the bathing tub.
The moment the hot water surrounded him, Su Muchen’s body trembled violently.
Not because it was too hot, but because the contrast between the warmth and his skin was simply too great.
The hot water spread from his shoulders to the sides of his neck, gradually melting away layer after layer of the cold that remained on his skin.
He leaned against the edge of the tub, feeling his body slowly warm back up, allowing his tense muscles to gradually relax.
But it was too warm.
So warm that his consciousness began to scatter.
His head slowly drooped. When it slipped beneath the surface, he did not struggle.
Gurgle.
He swallowed a mouthful of water.
Xiao Yuan’s hand reached over at that instant, firmly supporting him and lifting his head back above the water.
Su Muchen choked and coughed twice.
Then he heard Xiao Yuan’s voice from very close by, lower and hoarser than usual.
“Don’t fall asleep in the water.”
He responded vaguely, but still did not open his eyes.
He did not know how he eventually left the tub.
He only knew that someone dried his body and hair, then slipped dry clothes over his shoulders.
The fabric was soft, carrying a clean scent, like clothes dried beneath the sun.
Someone was tying his sash.
“Sleep peacefully. I’ll take care of everything.”
Xiao Yuan’s deep voice sounded beside his ear.
Su Muchen felt his body sinking.
The softness of the bed. The warmth of the blankets.
Hearing that voice, he naturally let go of all his worries for the moment and sank into a deep sleep.
In the distance, the morning light was slowly spreading across the horizon of the Northern Frontier, its warm glow staining the rooftops of the main courtyard.
◇◆◇◆◇
In the southern courtyard, the light slowly transitioned from the dim yellow glow of the lamps to the gray-white morning light seeping through the window paper.
Xiao had already been moved from the wooden table covered with white cloth to the bed, with two thick blankets covering him.
The monitoring band remained fastened around his left wrist, the readings steadily fluctuating.
The military physicians had withdrawn to the outer room to stand by. The room now contained only the lingering warmth of the charcoal fire and a pale figure sitting beside the bed.
Xia Lanshi sat on a wooden chair, his gaze resting on Xiao’s profile.
His face was still pale, but some color had returned to his lips.
He had already assigned all the work that needed to be distributed.
The military physicians’ shifts, medicine storage, supplies of hot water and charcoal, access control for the southern courtyard, and the suppression of information.
Everything had been explained clearly.
His work was finished.
But he had not followed Xiao Yuan’s instructions to go rest.
His fingers rested on the white jade peace buckle, tapping it lightly, once, then again.
He recalled what Xiao Yuan had just said.
—There’s a red spider lily mark on Xiao’s right back.
In the past, he had once asked Su Muchen to confirm it.
At the time, the answer he had received was—
“Confirmed. There is no mark or scar on his back.”
When Xiao’s upper clothing had just been removed, there truly had been no scar visible on his back.
The red spider lily mark and the wound were both currently wrapped beneath layer upon layer of gauze and bandages, so they could not be confirmed for the time being.
He believed Su Muchen, because Su Muchen was not someone who would lie.
Then why had it appeared now?
He thought that perhaps Su Muchen had not been mistaken.
Perhaps Xiao had a way of concealing the mark, preventing others from discovering it.
Perhaps he had also used some method to erase the scar.
Those questions he had asked in his letters.
Those probes.
Those roundabout inquiries.
He had thought Xiao’s silence was because he was unwilling to answer.
Now he knew that it was not unwillingness.
It was inability.
The answers to those questions had always been hidden somewhere unseen.
Suppressed by Xiao in some way deep beneath his skin, buried within memories that even Xiao himself might not have been willing to face.
He looked at Xiao’s face and suddenly felt that the distance between them had grown shorter.
Not physical distance.
Rather, he had once believed that an impassable wall stood between himself and that snowy night.
At this moment, that wall was slowly becoming thinner, like a boundary worn down by time.
That snowy night.
He had still been young then, locked inside a room without windows.
He did not know where it was, did not know who had locked him there, and was not even entirely certain that he was still alive.
When that person appeared, he had been locked in a courtyard filled with snow, collapsed from illness in the snow.
The person moved quickly, draping a thick coat over him and saying:
“Go.”
He had said only one word.
But Xia Lanshi remembered that word for a very long time.
He remembered the wound on that person’s back, blood seeping through his clothes and falling onto the snow.
He remembered that person handing him the white jade peace buckle, his fingertips icy cold.
He remembered that after handing him over to Grand Tutor Xia, that person had never appeared again.
He had searched for a long time.
Taken many winding paths.
Confirmed that the person was not Xiao.
He had already given up and accepted it.
But now, sitting on this wooden chair and looking at Xiao’s pale profile, he remembered the tone of those letters, the engraving on the pocket watch, the frames of the glasses, the owl pattern.
Suddenly, he felt that perhaps he had been looking in the wrong direction from the very beginning.
It was not that the person had never appeared.
It was that the person had been protecting him by another means all along, waiting for him to discover the truth.
“…It really is you.”
Xia Lanshi said softly.
He reached out and covered Xiao’s hand with his own.
Counting them up, Xiao had saved him three times.
Once, on the snowy night when he was ten.
Once, when he was kidnapped by the Crown Prince’s people.
And once, when he had been poisoned.
Three times.
Yet Xiao had never explained why, nor had he ever asked for repayment.
But even without ever saying a word, Xia Lanshi could still feel the care coming from the other side of that door, reaching him from the other world.
It was not that he had felt nothing.
What had he done to deserve such kindness?
If there really had to be an explanation, perhaps there was only one reason that could make sense of it.
He remembered the little snow owl still curled up in the greenhouse.
He remembered writing in his letter, “There is no need for a reason to be alive.”
At the time, he had been writing about the little snow owl.
But in truth, he had been referring to that person.
And that person was now lying less than an arm’s length away from him, still alive.
…Fortunately.
He had not died.
Some things, even if explained early, could not necessarily be understood.
Only when one was truly ready to understand did the answers become clear.
And at this moment, he felt that he was ready.
He thought that when Xiao woke up, he would say one thing to him.
A very simple sentence.
Not a thank-you.
Nor a question.
At this moment, Xiao was fast asleep, his long eyelashes like two black feathers resting against snow.
The last time Xia Lanshi had seen him, he had not yet been wearing glasses and could only make out a blurred outline.
Chi Banyue’s assessment of him at the time had been: tall, black-haired, refined in bearing, but he did not look like a good person.
Xia Lanshi could not help smiling.
He really did look handsome and refined, but beneath that scholarly appearance was someone who could be ruthless even toward himself.
At that moment, he felt the fingers beneath his palm move slightly.
He looked at Xiao and saw his brows draw together, his eyelashes trembling faintly, but he had not yet awakened.
He felt that Xiao’s hand was no longer cold.
In fact, it was even warmer than his own.
He reached out and touched Xiao’s forehead, discovering that its temperature was considerably higher than before.
He lowered his head and looked at the reading displayed on the monitoring band.
His body temperature was slowly rising. The increase was not large, only slightly above normal.
Before leaving, Su Muchen had said that a fever might occur at first because the body was fighting the infection. Other conditions could also cause a fever.
As long as the fever did not become too high, there was no need to panic, because the medication had already been administered.
He summoned a military physician to prepare a damp cloth and cool water, then had the person wait outside.
He placed the damp cloth on Xiao’s forehead.
Then he removed one layer of the blankets.
Xia Lanshi placed his hand over Xiao’s once again and leaned back against the chair to rest for a moment.
He murmured softly,
“This time, don’t you dare avoid me again.”