Shen Jianqing had a way of summoning me around that was both effortless and entirely at his whim.
For the past month, my entire day had revolved around him. One moment it was giving him water, the next it was preparing his medicine; sometimes he was bored lying down and wanted to talk, sometimes he dropped his blanket and couldn’t reach it. The most extreme case was when he called me into the room, claiming an itch on his back, demanding that I scratch it!
They say no one is filial at a sickbed for long—there were many times I wanted to ignore him—but in the end, I always gave in to his persistent calls.
“Brother Yuze! Brother Yuze!”
“Brother Yuze, are you there? Can you hear me?”
Just like now.
I could hear his voice from the main hall, urging me to appear before him immediately.
Was it his head this time or his back? He always found some reason to call me.
I entered, leaning against the doorframe. “What is it?”
Shen Jianqing was half-reclined against the headboard, his shoulder-length hair loose, giving him a momentary resemblance to a delicate young girl—though I knew the reality was far from that.
The scratches on his face had healed, but the deep scar remained. From the corner of his right eye down to his cheekbone, faintly red, it drew attention despite its subtlety.
“Come closer,” he waved weakly, his body still seeming fragile.
I remembered past lessons and took a couple of steps forward, keeping a safe distance.
“What’s wrong? Where does it itch this time?”
Shen Jianqing shook his head, sighing. “Do you smell something?”
I instinctively sniffed around, but there was nothing unusual.
“Come a little closer,” he urged.
Cautious and wary, I stepped forward again.
“Now?”
I sniffed carefully, still detecting nothing.
He bit his lip and hesitated. “You… can’t smell it? The scent on me?”
What scent could he possibly have?
Finally, he gave up pretense. “I haven’t bathed in ages, it’s so uncomfortable. Brother Yuze, help me, will you?”
So that was it—he wanted me to help him bathe…
We were both men. What he had, I had too, and I frequented the university baths myself. But thinking of Shen Jianqing, my chest inexplicably tightened.
Whether willingly or unwillingly, we had shared many intimate moments—but precisely because of that, the thought made me uneasy.
“Your wounds can’t get wet yet…” I tried to find an excuse to deflect.
“They’re healed already! The scabs are almost gone!” he insisted.
I replied, “Then you’re fine now; you don’t need me.”
“But my joints still ache,” he said, moving his previously dislocated right arm, adding, “I can’t lift it fully; it hurts when I do. Yes, exactly like that.”
He raised his eyebrows and let the corners of his eyes droop, giving a pitiful look. “Just help me wash, will you?”
My resolve softened, and I had no choice but to fetch water and prepare.
There were no buckets in the stilted house, only a wooden basin, slightly larger than a typical plastic one. I filled it with hot water and prepared a cloth.
Shen Jianqing had already sat up, looking at me expectantly. I approached resignedly and bent down to undo the buttons on his collar.
He wasn’t wearing his usual Miao outfit but a hemp long shirt. The buttons were tight, and bending over, I struggled for a long time without success.
Shen Jianqing tilted his chin slightly, his slender, fair neck right before my eyes. My hands fumbled more as a faint heat surged within me.
The more anxious I got, the harder it was to undo.
Suddenly, my hand was grasped tightly.
I looked up into Shen Jianqing’s eyes—dark, stormy, brimming with unspoken emotion. His voice was low, almost teasing: “Brother Yuze… you’re tickling me.”
I froze, suddenly noticing that the scar on his face didn’t ruin his appearance; if anything, it lent a certain indescribable allure.
Bang, bang, bang…
A deafening sound exploded in my ears. After a moment, I realized, terrified—it was my own heartbeat!
Snapping back to reality, I pulled my hand away and stepped back. “You can lift your hand yourself.”
Shen Jianqing looked down at his hand, slightly embarrassed, then glanced at my determined expression. Finally, he took off his thin shirt himself.
It was mid-summer now; the heat had quickly returned after the heavy rain. As he removed the light long shirt, his body appeared slender yet toned, revealing a delicate strength beneath the softness.
Perhaps it was because of his age—Shen Jianqing’s body was still caught between boyhood and adulthood. He was slender without being fragile, his frame narrow and long, with a thin layer of muscle laid over it.
But I never doubted the strength that body could unleash in an instant—because I had experienced it myself.
Shen Jianqing casually tossed his long robe to the floor and said, “I really can’t reach my back.”
“Then I’ll only help you with your back,” I said as I wrung out the cloth and stepped toward him.
His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. His muscles weren’t overly developed, but they were evenly shaped. Yet across his bare back were scars—some already healed, leaving dark brown scabs.
The deepest one cut across his shoulder blade. It had nearly exposed bone at the time—an injury that would have needed stitching if it were outside. But Lu Qi’s medical skills were good, and Shen Jianqing himself recovered fast. Now it had faded into a dark red scar.
Were all these wounds from gathering medicine for me?
My chest tightened sharply, like something had stabbed straight through it.
I’d told myself more than once that this was something he chose to do. I never asked him to. Everyone is responsible for their own choices, and I didn’t need to trouble myself over decisions Shen Jianqing made on his own.
So I could sympathize with his injuries, but absolutely shouldn’t feel guilty.
But faced with these shocking scars, I couldn’t help imagining how he fell from that cliff—whether he had been afraid in that moment.
“Do you regret it?” I suddenly asked.
Shen Jianqing instantly understood my abrupt question. He let out a small laugh. “I’ve never regretted anything I’ve ever done.”
Never?
I didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad.
All I could think of was that he was the first—and so far the only—person willing to risk his life for me.