“The skull is delicate. Externally, the bump at the back of his head is minor, nothing serious. But we can’t tell what’s happening inside the cranium,” the old physician stroked his beard. “Initially, I thought the fainting was due only to the bump. Cases of temporary amnesia are not unique, and he can live normally. There’s no need for undue worry.”
Shurui’s heart sank. “Then how long until he recovers?”
“Fast cases take three to five days; slow ones, three to five years—hard to predict.”
Shurui went pale, pleading, “Is there treatment?”
“My skills are limited. I recommend taking him to the prefectural capital to see a better physician—there’s one skilled in acupuncture and treating difficult cases.”
Sending the doctor off, Shurui’s steps felt unsteady. Returning, he nearly collided with the youth standing at the doorway. Exhaustion and stress had left him spent.
“Do you remember where home is?” Shurui asked.
The youth shook his head. Shurui didn’t expect him to recall. “You have a bundle—let me see if there are any clues.”
The youth, uneasy at the suggestion, complied and retrieved it.
Shurui received the bundle, intending to open it himself. Small in size, he spread it on the table: a pack of hardened rations, various bottles of medicine, and… two pairs of underpants.
Shurui flushed.
He had no interest in examining the youth’s undergarments, yet curiously, each pair had something embroidered at the leg: the characters “陆凌” (Lu Ling).
“Is this my name?”
The youth traced the embroidery, puzzled. “Did you sew this?”
Shurui’s eyes widened. “Me? Why would I? Maybe a friend… don’t blame me unfairly.”
The youth fell silent, frowning in thought.
“If you don’t like it, throw it away.”
Shurui blinked. “You won’t wear it?”
True—without it, a replacement would be difficult. The youth hesitated, then packed the bundle again.
Just then, a station attendant appeared. “Will you continue staying tomorrow? A merchant caravan arrived nearby—ten or so people. Rooms are tight; we wanted to ask if you’ll extend your stay so we can prepare accordingly.”
Shurui realized he had only reserved one room in haste.
“I was just thinking of asking the attendant for another room, didn’t expect he beat me to it.”
“Another room?”
The attendant glanced at Shurui, then at Lu Ling, a little puzzled. He didn’t ask further, just said, “Sir, the merchants have settled in. No rooms left, only the big dormitory. You could squeeze in a couple of people there.”
Shurui hesitated, unsure what to do, but before he could speak, Lu Ling, silent all along, trudged toward the dormitory.
Shurui’s brow twitched as he watched him, emotions tangled.
He finally muttered, “Tomorrow morning we’ll set out for Chaoxi Prefecture. I’ll find a doctor to get you treated.”
Lu Ling paused, silently frustrated. If they weren’t husband and wife, why offer words he didn’t want? Yet he feared Shurui might just leave him behind, so he muttered a soft “hm” and followed.
At dawn, Shurui prepared provisions, fed the donkey in the shed, and asked the attendant to hitch it to the cart. Despite resting overnight, sleep had eluded him; traveling alone from home had always left him tense, and now all these incidents only tangled his thoughts further.
He frowned, thinking of Lu Ling. The doctor had said he’d lost his memory. Shurui had acted presumptuously before, and now his explanations were met with disbelief.
As he led the donkey to the road, he spotted a figure waiting ahead—shoulder slung with a bundle, a large sword at his waist, staring blankly.
The eyes, dark as ink, held an indescribable confusion. Standing in the morning mist, he looked like a carved post.
Guilt surged in Shurui. A perfectly capable person suddenly robbed of memory… drifting like a ghost in fog. If he ran off now, he might leave him behind, ignoring the need for a doctor or the search for family, sparing himself trouble—but… he couldn’t do it.
Shurui’s conscience would never allow it. He had brought Lu Ling to the station for a doctor before; to abandon him now, knowing the amnesia stemmed from his actions… would haunt him endlessly.
He squared his shoulders, accepting the responsibility, and first resolved to make Lu Ling understand that they were truly not husband and wife.
“Lu Ling, let’s go!” he called.
Lu Ling’s eyes, still hazy, brightened slightly and he trudged toward him.
The cart wheels pressed into the soft earth, leaving a patterned trail as they rolled through the thin morning mist. Shurui offered Lu Ling two still-warm pancakes while holding the reins.
Yesterday, Shurui had panicked driving the cart, worrying about Lu Ling’s injuries, and barely managed the donkey. Now, with Lu Ling unhurt, the memory of that near-disaster made him tense again.
The donkey flung its head, sneezed, jerking the reins and sending Shurui forward. He broke into a cold sweat.
Though seeming slow-witted, the donkey was clever. If not properly trained, stubborn animals would resist: told east, it went west; asked to speed up, it slowed. Shurui’s sturdy but young and stubborn donkey, sensing his limited skill, dawdled and nibbled grass, tossing Shurui about.
Just as he felt on edge, a hand reached around from behind to grip the reins.
The broad hand tightened, muscles flexing, and in a few controlled tugs, the donkey quieted.
Shurui relaxed slightly, testing the reins—smooth, steady, far better than before. He turned to look at Lu Ling, who, pancake in one hand, guided the cart with the other. Cold-faced, yet somehow endearingly naive. Perhaps amnesia lent him that innocent charm.
“You drive well,” Shurui praised.
Lu Ling raised a brow, “I’ll drive from now on.”
Shurui’s expression turned serious. “Lu Ling, you have no clues to your home. Heading to Chaoxi Prefecture, I don’t know if it’s nearer or farther from your family. But I’ll do my best to get you treated and help find your family.”
Lu Ling stared ahead, unresponsive.
“You heard me, right?” Shurui asked.
Still no reply.
They sat side by side. Shurui realized he was deliberately ignoring him. Furrowing his brows, he stopped speaking.
Lu Ling, noticing Shurui’s expression, finally muttered, “I don’t want to hear you go on like that.”
“But it’s the truth!” Shurui insisted.
“As you say, we’re not married. You’re just a young man with no friends or family, traveling alone. Why did you bring me to the station when I was hurt? And now to Chaoxi Prefecture?”
“I just lost my memory, not my wits,” Lu Ling said.
Shurui countered, “My donkey caused the accident. I couldn’t just flee. I at least have some conscience.”
Lu Ling shot back, “And having a conscience makes you tell someone who lost their memory that we’re married?”
“….”
Shurui shifted uncomfortably. “I only said that before to prevent you from taking advantage of me.”
“If you were afraid, why even bring me along?” Lu Ling’s gaze was sharp. He thought Shurui’s words were full of holes—something unresolved between them must have existed.
He remembered yesterday questioning whether Shurui disliked him—perhaps in the past, he had been angry. Now, with his memory gone, he feared being abandoned, a deeply unpleasant feeling stirring inside him.
Lu Ling tugged the donkey to a halt, pressing his lips tight, eyebrows knit. “If we’re not married, as you say, and I’m fine, there’s no reason to drag me to Chaoxi Prefecture.”
Shurui saw the stubborn expression and felt helpless. He couldn’t explain it clearly, and no matter what he said, Lu Ling wouldn’t listen.
Spotting a woman with a child on the road ahead, he relaxed slightly.
“Mom, how much longer? My feet hurt! I don’t want to walk anymore!” the child complained.
The mother tried to coax him, but in vain. She carried him briefly, sweat dripping from her brow.
Shurui’s mind flickered to expenses—160 copper coins at the station yesterday, two doctor visits, more coins gone. His wallet was thinning. Traveling already cost much, and now more. He didn’t even know the state of his shop back home—years unattended, likely damaged. Repairs would cost money he didn’t have.
Seeing Lu Ling’s steady driving, recalling his skill with the sword yesterday, he thought safely letting him handle the cart was fine. Spotting travelers on the road, Shurui thought: if the cart was empty, picking up a couple of passengers would at least cover the donkey’s feed—better than just spending.
He leaned toward Lu Ling. “Hide the sword.”
“No,” Lu Ling said stubbornly, still irritated from their argument.
Shurui squinted. He could let him walk, but risking someone else’s safety was out of the question. He spoke softly: “Alright, alright. You didn’t like my words before and didn’t believe me, so I won’t say them.”
Lu Ling’s eyes twitched. Face still proud, he silently unbuckled the sword, tucking it beneath the cart as instructed.
Shurui, pleased with the compliance, quickly used the bundle to cover the sword more securely.
“Drive the cart over to stop near that mother and child.”
Lu Ling didn’t know what Shurui had in mind, so he didn’t ask and simply followed his lead.
“Ma’am, where are you headed? It’s getting hot. Our strong donkey carriage can give the child a rest for a while if you like.”
The woman, seeing that Shurui was warm and friendly, was willing to respond. “We’re heading to Stone Town to visit relatives. Can your carriage go that way?”
“Just about to pass through Stone Town—we’re going the same way. At this hour, it’s neither early nor late, and it’s not easy to find a carriage heading straight into town for market. If you go on foot, it’ll still take an hour or two, and the sun will be even fiercer. If you don’t mind riding, you’re welcome to take our carriage now; otherwise, waiting for the next one may not be convenient.”
Seeing this, the woman wanted to ride, but hesitated and asked, “You two look unfamiliar—don’t seem like the usual carriage drivers from nearby villages. How much would you charge to take us to town?”
Shurui said, “Ma’am, just two coins—that’s for the donkey’s feed. We also see how hot it is and that the child is tired. If we can give you a lift along the way, why not?”
The woman tested him further. “Then I’ll give you three coins. Stone Town isn’t far anyway.”
Shurui agreed. “Very well.”
With that, he jumped down and helped the woman put the child onto the carriage.
Shurui then sat behind them, chatting casually with the mother and child.
“How old is the little one? Is he attending school?”
The child, shy in front of strangers, wouldn’t answer, so the woman spoke for him. “He studies at the village private school, but like his father, he’s a blockhead—not cut out for reading. I would rather not make him study, but now almost every trade requires literacy and arithmetic. For a poor family like ours, it’s hard.”
Shurui nodded. “It’s the same for all parents. No matter how hard life is, they always want the best for their children.”
The woman felt understood, her heart warming.
She continued chatting with Shurui about the year’s crops, the child’s studies, and the taxes imposed by the court. Shurui listened with patience, making her even more pleased.
Noticing how engaged she was, the woman glanced at the young man driving the carriage—handsome and upright, yet silent and seemingly cold—and asked Shurui, “Such a fine young man—what’s your relation to him?”
Shurui smiled. “This is my elder brother. We’re heading to the prefectural city together to make a living.”
The woman wanted to ask if he was married, but before she could, the young man in front suddenly said two cold words: “Not yet.”
“What’s not?” the woman asked, confused, looking at Shurui.
Lu Ling turned his head. “We’re married.”
“Ah?”
Seeing the conflicting answers, the woman found it odd and quickly drew her child closer. “How can you be both brothers and husband and wife?”
Seeing the woman grow suspicious, Shurui secretly twisted Lu Ling’s arm to make him shut up, while maintaining a smile on his face.
“Ma’am, don’t mind. I didn’t explain fully. He’s actually my distant cousin. Since he’s older, our families wanted us to marry. I’ve always called him my brother. Changing roles takes time to get used to. My cousin is quiet and serious, not one for idle chatter. Just let him focus on driving.”
The woman finally relaxed. “I see. We have people like you in our village too. Relatives who know each other are far better than strangers from elsewhere.”
Shurui, fearing more questions, called to the child: “Sitting on the carriage is boring. Shall I teach you a few lines of poetry?”
The child nodded, and Shurui began teaching him the Three Character Classic.
Lu Ling, driving ahead, no longer spoke. Shurui had exerted all his effort earlier, but Lu Ling remained indifferent. In his mind, he only thought: so they were distant cousins who became husband and wife…
This thought settled quietly in his mind, easing a nameless anxiety.