Shen Jianqing… in trouble?
A high-pitched ringing filled my ears; my head went dizzy for a moment, my mind blank.
I could barely hear my own voice, faint and distant.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
Wan Ying wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her bright, peach-like eyes, washed by tears, looked clear. “In the village… at Uncle Lu Qi’s house. He’s badly hurt. He’s not conscious. We can’t get medicine into him.”
I steeled myself, forcing calm. Though he had been forceful, even obsessive, I didn’t want to see Shen Jianqing die. If he died…
“Take me there, quickly!” I said.
Wan Ying sprinted ahead, and miraculously, I felt calmer as we ran. What had happened had happened; worrying wouldn’t change it. Now, all that mattered was saving him.
The half-hour journey felt like an eternity. At last, we reached the village entrance. Breathing shallowly, we crossed the stone arch bridge without pause.
“Where is he?” I asked.
Wan Ying, gasping, said, “Lu Qi… at his house!”
She was exhausted, barely able to stand straight, but still led me forward. Fortunately, Lu Qi’s stilted house was at the foot of the mountain, and we arrived quickly.
By now, a crowd of villagers had gathered at the door. Their faces were grave, brows furrowed, some whispering to each other.
“Move! Let me through!” I shouted, pushing past the men in front of me—only to realize the man blocking me was the village chief, Shen Jianqing’s grandfather.
The chief turned, his aged eyes glancing at me strangely, but I had no time to wonder why. I pushed through and immediately saw Shen Jianqing lying on the bed.
His face was pale, lips devoid of color, eyes tightly closed. Long, thick lashes cast shadows beneath.
But what made my heart seize was the wound on his right cheek, a deep scratch running from the corner of his eye to his cheekbone. Blood covered half his face. I momentarily stopped breathing.
His body was no better. The indigo Miao tunic was torn, exposing raw, bloodied flesh. His right arm was twisted at an unnatural angle—either dislocated or broken. Yet strangely, he still gripped a herb in his right hand, the joints white from the force.
This was… Shen Jianqing?
I could hardly believe it. I had seen him gentle, ruthless, obsessive—but never lying sickly like this.
My chest tightened; I struggled to breathe.
Lu Qi knelt by the bedside, setting his dislocated arm and trying to feed him medicine. But Shen Jianqing clenched his teeth, spitting out the brown liquid from the corner of his mouth.
Lu Qi set down the bowl, sighing helplessly.
“Why are you just standing there?!” Wan Ying urged.
I frowned, trying to keep my voice steady. “I… I want him to be well too. But I’m not a doctor—I can’t help!”
Coming closer would only hinder Lu Qi’s efforts.
Wan Ying spoke urgently, “He… did this for you!”
I stared, incredulous. Not for the forest insects?
Wan Ying explained rapidly, “The talisman forest—he could handle that. He fell for that herb on the cliff… he got hurt for that herb!”
My heart jolted. I uncontrollably recalled that day under the stilted house in midsummer mist, when Shen Jianqing asked if my foot hurt, and had left a sentence unfinished: “I remember there’s a herb that can heal…”
Could it be that he risked himself just to heal my foot?
For me…
He had climbed the cliff for me alone? Yet he had once said he’d rather I stay crippled, bound to him for life.
Why…?
I turned sharply toward the tender green herb. My eyes stung. My chest constricted painfully, my entire torso scrunching, breaths shallow and quick. Instinctively, I clutched my chest. My eyes burned and throbbed. I couldn’t describe the feeling—it was new, overwhelming. Suddenly, my hands felt icy.
A tear had silently fallen onto the back of my hand without me noticing.
I stepped forward and crouched by Shen Jianqing’s bedside. Lu Qi moved aside for me and gestured to the gathered villagers at the doorway to disperse.
Shen Jianqing lay still, his deep-set eyes tightly closed.
“Shen Jianqing… can you hear me?” I gently touched his tightly clenched hand. It was ice-cold, and a chill spread through my chest. “You’re so capable… how did you end up like this? I… I…”
My words caught in my throat, and I couldn’t continue.
I took a deep breath, forcing down the knot of anxiety in my chest, and said, “If you had died from this fall… at least then I could go home.”
The words barely left my mouth when I saw his Adam’s apple move. I hurriedly spooned some medicinal broth into his mouth, and this time it didn’t spill.
“Dazhu!” Lu Qi exclaimed with relief, though I had no energy to figure out what he meant.
I lowered my eyes and scooped another spoonful, but my wrist suddenly felt cold, gripped by a pale hand. Following his gaze, I was stunned to see Shen Jianqing had weakly opened his eyes, staring unblinkingly at me.
“You…”
Before I could finish, his lips moved. I leaned closer, pressing my ear to his mouth. His cold lips brushed my earlobe, sending shivers through me. I tried to lift my body, but he raised his left hand and rested it against my neck.
“You… cannot leave…”
He had heard me.
I awkwardly considered standing but hesitated, afraid of hurting him. Shen Jianqing continued, “Your foot… not healed yet… herbs… very effective…”
My urge to move vanished instantly.
Even in his state, he was still worried about my foot. It barely hurt now, and I, a grown man, had dismissed it as trivial—but it occupied his mind.
A sharp, bittersweet fullness filled my chest, slowly swelling my heart.
“Get well, Shen Jianqing,” I murmured. “Get well, and I won’t blame you.”
I wasn’t sure if the words came from genuine feeling, an attempt to comfort, or a spontaneous surge of emotion. But in that moment, I truly meant them.
Hearing this, his eyes brightened, stars seeming to gather in their depths.
“Honghong will protect you… we go back… I don’t want to stay here.” As he spoke, Honghong climbed out from his grasp on my wrist, lingering to glance back at Shen Jianqing before crawling along the point of contact onto my wrist.
Her tiny legs scratched lightly as she climbed, and I stifled my discomfort, letting her settle inside my sleeve.
Shen Jianqing then looked at Lu Qi and spoke a phrase in Miao, to which Lu Qi nodded respectfully.
From the doorway came a slow, simple voice. Though I didn’t understand the words, the warmth of laughter was unmistakable.
I turned and saw A Song, tall and broad, standing in the doorway. He pointed at my foot, his smile pure and bright, a thin line of saliva still at his mouth’s corner.
I glanced down and realized only my right shoe remained; the left had vanished, likely lost while running. I hadn’t noticed until A Song pointed it out.
I didn’t bother searching for it. I guessed Shen Jianqing must have instructed Lu Qi, because soon, he came with others, helping me carry Shen Jianqing back to his stilted house.
Once back, he slipped into unconsciousness again. As I helped him lie on his own bed, he was so frail it was hard to believe he was only eighteen, still partly unformed and vulnerable. Cold sweat coated his forehead.
Settling Shen Jianqing, I was utterly exhausted. The villagers had all left, but Wan Ying lingered at the doorway.
“Wan Ying,” I called.
She turned, face weary. “I… checked with Lu Qi. It’s only a fall. Looks severe, but no internal injuries.”
Relief washed over me. No internal injuries meant he could recover with rest.
She hesitated, then said, “If you… want to leave, I can… arrange it now.”
I froze, torn and conflicted.
Her eyes flicked to my sleeve as she stammered, “Now… Shen Jianqing… injured… cannot… trouble you anymore. You… be assured, we’ll… take care of him… and show you the way out.”
Indeed, this was the perfect chance to leave. All restrictions disappeared the moment Shen Jianqing was hurt. Opportunity knocked once.
But he had risked himself for me.
He climbed the cliff for me, and now I was to leave while he lay injured? The thought made me feel unbearably cruel.
I suddenly hated my own indecision, my endless self-restraint. My life was already in chaos, yet I remained shackled by an inexplicable sense of duty.
I should disregard everything and leave, return to my own world, forget all this, and resume a normal life.
A voice in my mind shouted. Yes—just leave everything, Li Yuze, and care for nothing!
Wan Ying’s words were enticing, and I met her earnest gaze. Yet I suddenly remembered the half-used herbs I had left in the room.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’m not leaving… for now. Shen Jianqing is like this. I’m responsible. At least I’ll stay until he recovers.”
Wan Ying seemed surprised, a slight movement in her brow and a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re… truly admirable, Li Yuze… oh, my herbs, do you… still need them?”
I couldn’t hide the question that had been nagging me: “But last night, so many black insects swarmed the stilted house. They didn’t seem afraid of your herbs at all.”