Fan Changyu quickly put down the bowl and went to pat his back. “How did you choke?”

But the moment she touched him, it only made things worse—Xie Zheng bent over the edge of the bed and coughed up a mouthful of dark red blood.

Fan Changyu was frightened out of her wits. She looked at her own hand, then at Xie Zheng, before turning toward the tent flap and shouting, “Military doctor! Call the military doctor—someone’s coughing blood!”

The personal guards standing outside heard her cry, lifted the curtain for a glance, and, seeing the blood on the ground, turned on their heels and ran after the military doctor who had just left the camp a short while ago.

The other wounded soldiers inside the tent started murmuring among themselves—some said that Xie Zheng was showing signs of a returning light before death, while others comforted Fan Changyu, saying she shouldn’t panic until the doctor came to have a look.

Fan Changyu hastily used her handkerchief to wipe the blood from the corner of Xie Zheng’s mouth, clutching his hand tightly as she murmured, “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

It was unclear whether she was saying it to him or to herself.

Xie Zheng had long had clotted blood congested in his chest. That violent fit of coughing had finally expelled it, relieving the suffocating heaviness in his chest and letting him breathe far more easily. Yet because he’d coughed too hard, he had likely pulled at his wound again, and faint traces of blood were seeping through the gauze.

He glanced at Fan Changyu’s hand gripping his own. His lips, which had lost nearly all color, were now stained with a vivid hue from the blood he’d coughed up—making his pale face seem even more ashen, a sight that tugged painfully at one’s heart.

Half-lowering his eyes, he spoke weakly: “You want to divorce me?”

Fan Changyu’s eyes brimmed with tears. “No, I don’t—no divorce!”

Her voice was choked with sobs. “You only got conscripted because you married into my family. If that day we’d talked properly and you’d signed the divorce paper, the officials wouldn’t have taken you away, and you wouldn’t be hurt like this now. Don’t be afraid. Now that you’re like this, I won’t abandon you. I’ve already thought about it on the way here—if you die here, I’ll take care of your burial myself. Your family’s gone, so on every festival from now on, I’ll make offerings for you…”

As she spoke, fear truly set in—that he might really die right here before her eyes. Her tears fell in large drops onto the bedding, leaving one small dark mark after another.

A hand pressed against her back. She was pulled forcefully into a chest that smelled of blood and medicine.

Fan Changyu, afraid of pressing against his wounds, placed her hands on his shoulders to push him away. But Xie Zheng only tightened his arms around her, holding her completely within his embrace. His chin rested on her shoulder, which was trembling from crying, and he said hoarsely, “Don’t move.”

Afraid of worsening his injuries, Fan Changyu dared not move again. Yet her chest filled with an unnameable emotion that made her heart ache, and her tears kept falling uncontrollably, soaking the fabric of his shoulder.

Xie Zheng said, “Don’t cry. I’m glad… that you could still come find me.”

He paused for a moment, then added softly, “About that day—I’m sorry.”

Fan Changyu knew exactly what he was referring to. She pressed her lips together, just about to speak, when the tent flap was suddenly lifted. The guard rushed in with the military doctor, and Gongsun Yin, fearing Xie Zheng might have taken a bad turn, followed in as well. Seeing the scene before them, all of them froze where they stood, expressions shifting subtly.

Hearing the noise, Fan Changyu turned and saw that even the other injured soldiers were staring straight at them. Her face flushed red. She quickly pushed Xie Zheng back onto the bed, but her movement was too abrupt, making him let out a muffled groan. Flustered, she withdrew her hands. 

“Did I hurt you?”

Pale-faced, Xie Zheng said it was fine.

An older wounded soldier in the tent chuckled to ease the awkwardness. “The young couple’s just gone through a brush with death—they’re still shaken!”

The other soldiers joined in with a few good-natured laughs.

The military doctor stepped forward to ask about Xie Zheng’s coughing blood, took his pulse again, and, unwilling to make light of the matter, merely concluded that it was due to weakness—his vital energy had been severely damaged and he needed nourishment and rest.

“Weakness, hm…” Gongsun Yin gave Xie Zheng a teasing look, stroked his chin, and said, “Tell the cookhouse to prepare some meat for the wounded soldiers. Everyone needs to build their strength back up.”

The wounded soldiers in the tent all offered profuse thanks.

Gongsun Yin added, “Separate the severely wounded from the lightly wounded into different tents for care; it’ll also make it easier for the military doctor to decoct medicines.”

As he spoke he pointed at Xie Zheng: “This afternoon the men set up a few new tents for the Jizhou soldiers who went up the mountain, not far from here — move this man to the new tent.”

Xie Zheng cast a cold glance; Gongsun Yin flashed him a sly smile.

Because Xie Zheng was injured, several personal guards, posing as ordinary men, carried him and the bed directly into the newly erected tent.

Fan Changyu followed and, to her surprise, found that although many camp beds had been placed there, no one else was occupying them yet.

Gongsun Yin explained that more severely wounded soldiers had been found later and would be arranged here one after another.

When Fan Changyu went to the cookhouse to help collect meals for the wounded camp, Gongsun Yin sat down on a camp bed opposite Xie Zheng, raised an eyebrow and asked him, “Should I arrange a separate tent for that girl, or let her stay with you?”

Xie Zheng had just swallowed a bowl of medicine; his mouth still tasted bitter. He sat up, poured a cup of water and drank it, holding the cup and lowering his eyes to ponder for a moment, then said, “Arrange another place for her.”

Gongsun Yin laughed, “That works. Almost forgot, I’ve got a little one with me; her sister’s come, so it’d be fine to have the two sisters live together.”

Thinking of the scene from earlier when the tent flap was lifted, he couldn’t help teasing, “That wound of yours was worth it, the girl cried for you. Hardly the sign of no feeling…”

He paused mid-sentence, looked at Xie Zheng and said, “If Sui Yuanqing finds out about her relationship with you, she might think to grab her sister to threaten you. If Wei Yan also gets wind of it… you know his methods.”

Xie Zheng’s fingers tightened suddenly around the pottery cup. “Seal today’s matter,” he said. “Not a single word must be spread outside.”

Gongsun Yin replied, “Only the military doctor and your few personal guards know. Those guards you promoted yourself, they keep their mouths shut. I’ve already admonished the doctor and had people secretly watch these past two days, so there shouldn’t be any problems. It’s just that the wounded in the tent all know the girl came to look for you; if they learn your identity, it could be difficult…”

Xie Zheng said, “Then keep it hidden for now.”

Gongsun Yin asked again, “What about Miss Fan?”

Xie Zheng half-lifted his eyelids: “I will find an opportunity to explain everything to her.”

Gongsun Yin: “As long as you plan to.”

After he left, Xie Zheng lay with his head on his arm, staring at the tent ceiling in a daze for a long while.

He wasn’t certain that once Fan Changyu knew everything she would still decide to be with him.

Fan Changyu would accept the penniless Yan Zheng, but she might not choose to shoulder Xie Zheng, who carried a blood-deep hatred.

Much of her kindness to him now stemmed from guilt, believing he had been forced into the army so as not to cause trouble for her and the neighbors.

Once she learned that he had originally intended to return to the army anyway, that guilt should be swept away.

He knew how much she cared for her sister, but because of him her sister had fallen into the hands of villains and nearly lost her life.

Whether she would resent him, he did not yet know. One thing was certain: if she chose to follow him, she would likely encounter such matters again.

Given her temperament, even if it were to ensure her sister a lifetime of stability and peace, she would probably draw a clear boundary with him. She liked tranquility — as she had once said, to find a steady, humble scholar as a husband and live an ordinary, plain life.

Right now, her kindness toward him felt as if he had stolen it.

Once one becomes a thief, there will always be a day when it is exposed.

He understood the consequences, but when he recalled the way she had looked at him while crying, and the things she had said, the mass of flesh and blood at his chest quivered uncontrollably.