Inside the tent, Xie Zheng looked at the chicken blood on his collar and cloak, frowning slightly. “Isn’t there too much blood?”

While ordering Xie Qi to take the freshly slaughtered wild chicken to the cooks to make soup, Gongsun Yin said, “Haven’t you been to the infirmary before? Those wounded soldiers are missing arms and legs—each one covered in blood. Miss Fan has been helping in the infirmary and has seen plenty of such scenes. If you don’t make it look convincing enough, how will you scare her?”

As he spoke, his sharp eyes noticed a bit of down feather stuck to the edge of the cloak—left over from the chicken’s struggles—and he quickly plucked it off.

Seeing that although Xie Zheng’s face was pale and there were faint bluish shadows beneath his eyes, there wasn’t the slightest sign of a fever, he couldn’t help but remark, “You stood out in the cold wind all night and even washed your hair with cold water. How is it you’re showing no signs of fever at all?”

Xie Zheng: “…”

Gongsun Yin decided to let things be. “Forget it, forget it. Acting out this little self-injury scheme should be enough anyway.”

From outside came Xie Wu’s voice: “He’s in here!”

Gongsun Yin immediately stepped back, sat on a stool to the side, and put on a look of sorrowful sympathy.

Following the military physician, Fan Changyu hurried into the tent. At a glance, she saw Xie Zheng lying weakly on the bed, his face ashen, and a large patch of bright red blood on his front, glaringly vivid.

Her heart tightened, and she rushed forward. “Yan Zheng!”

Xie Zheng’s eyes were closed, his thin lips cracked and dry, his complexion pale as snow. Disheveled strands of hair fell over his forehead, and faint blue shadows lingered under his eyes—he looked worn and pitiful.

Fan Changyu felt as if a pair of unseen hands were squeezing her heart. The dark bloodstain on his cloak pricked at her eyes until they burned with an ache.

It had only been one night. How could someone who had been fine yesterday suddenly become like this?

Holding onto her last thread of rationality, she stepped aside and turned to the physician. “Please, take his pulse quickly!”

The physician had been startled by the scene himself. Fearing something truly grave had happened, he hastily placed his fingers on Xie Zheng’s wrist. Feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingertips, his expression grew slightly strange—but when he lifted his gaze, he caught Gongsun Yin giving him a meaningful look.

The physician quickly composed himself, made a thoughtful hum, and wore a grave expression as he continued feeling the pulse. Watching this, Fan Changyu’s heart pounded violently.

After a long while, the physician withdrew his hand and said, “Miss Fan, your husband’s condition is extremely dangerous!”

Fan Changyu immediately said, “Physician, please, you must save him!”

Stroking his goatee, the physician said with difficulty, “He’s coughing up so much blood, his old wound must have left congestion in his lungs. He needs nourishing for yin and moistening of the lungs. Moreover, he’s lost too much blood and has an excess of liver fire—he must also replenish and stop the bleeding. I’ll prescribe a few decoctions for now, but afterward someone must watch over him constantly, lest he coughs blood in his sleep and chokes to death.”

Fan Changyu, frightened out of her wits, nodded quickly. “I’ll stay by his side and not leave him for a moment.”

After the physician left to prepare the medicine, Fan Changyu gazed at Xie Zheng, who lay amid the heavy smell of blood. Her nose stung, and guilt welled up within her.

Yan Zheng’s wounds hadn’t even healed properly, yet she had let her temper flare yesterday—why had she said she wouldn’t come here again?

If something truly happened to Yan Zheng, she might carry that guilt for a lifetime.

Seeing her expression, Gongsun Yin knew their ruse had succeeded. He spoke at the right moment to console her: “Miss Fan, don’t worry too much. Brother Yan will surely be blessed by good fortune.”

When Fan Changyu had first entered the tent, all her attention had been on Xie Zheng. Only now did she notice Gongsun Yin was also there. “Mr. Gongsun, you’re here too?”

Gongsun Yin lied without batting an eye. “Brother Yan suddenly coughed up blood, and Xiao Wu panicked. I happened to be patrolling nearby, so I told him to fetch the physician while I stayed to watch over Brother Yan for a moment.”

Fan Changyu thanked Gongsun Yin on Xie Zheng’s behalf.

Gongsun Yin smiled and said, “All of us men of Great Yin who fight on the battlefield do so to defend our rivers and mountains. Only by keeping our lives can we continue protecting our land. What’s there to thank me for? Since Miss Fan is here to watch over him, I won’t stay any longer.”

After sending Gongsun Yin off, Fan Changyu moved a small stool beside Xie Zheng’s bed and said in a low voice, “You must get better.”

Perhaps because she was sitting too close, Fan Changyu caught the scent of blood on the cloak. She sniffed sharply.

She slaughtered pigs often and was sensitive to the smell of pig’s blood. Having seen real battle these days, she was no stranger to the scent of human blood either. Yet this bedding—though heavy with blood—seemed to carry a faint smell of chicken feathers?

She leaned closer, about to smell more carefully, when the “unconscious for a long time” Xie Zheng suddenly fluttered his long eyelashes and weakly opened his eyes.

Fan Changyu instantly forgot everything else, exclaiming with surprise and joy, “Yan Zheng, you’re awake?”

Xie Zheng looked at her steadily for a moment before saying, “You came.”

His voice was hoarse and broken, as if coughing had injured his throat.

Just that one sentence made Fan Changyu’s heart twist painfully. She tucked the quilt around him and said, “The physician said you’re coughing blood because of internal injuries. You must take good care of yourself. I’ll stay here and watch over you, so you can rest and recover in peace.”

The pale lips tinged with blood made him look even weaker. Slowly, he said, “I heard about what happened to you in Jizhou.”

Fan Changyu didn’t understand what he meant by that, so she stayed silent. He continued, speaking with some effort, “After all you’ve been through, you’re no longer the ordinary woman from Lin’an Town who only knew how to slaughter pigs and sell meat. You returned changed. To keep blaming you after that was my fault.”

Hearing him once again apologize for the harsh words from yesterday made Fan Changyu feel even more ashamed. She lowered her gaze and said quietly, “You were right to scold me. I and those soldiers who went down the mountain were only lucky to come back alive. If Brother Ah Qi hadn’t brought reinforcements in time, I and the men who attacked the enemy camp might have been trampled to death under the rebels’ horses.”

After much mental preparation, she finally had the courage to look directly at Xie Zheng. “To get angry with you after you scolded me was narrow-minded of me. I’ll change.”

At that moment, she was filled entirely with guilt. Seeing that there were still bloodstains around Xie Zheng’s lips, she went out to fetch hot water to wipe him clean.

Xie Zheng watched her departing figure, frowning slightly.

How did this turn into her accusing herself of being narrow-minded?

When Xie Wu brought in the freshly boiled medicine, it was Fan Changyu who took it and fed Xie Zheng spoonful by spoonful.

The thick cloak taken from the rebel camp had been used by Xie Zheng as bedding; now that it was stained with blood, Fan Changyu, knowing his love for cleanliness, went back to her own quarters and brought over the cloak she and Changning used at night, laying it over Xie Zheng first. She then prepared to wash the blood-stained cloak and his bloodied clothes together.

Fearing she would discover something amiss while washing them, Xie Wu hurried to take them away himself.

By evening, Fan Changyu wanted to stay to watch over Xie Zheng but couldn’t rest easy leaving Changning alone in their own tent. Seeing that this military tent still had spare beds, she brought Changning over so they could sleep there together.

While making the bed, she said in confusion, “The infirmary tents are all crowded with wounded men. Why is this one still empty with so many beds unused?”

The military physicians avoided Xie Zheng as much as possible, how would they dare assign wounded soldiers to his tent?

Up on the mountain, lamp oil and candles were precious; once night fell, almost all tents relied on brazier fire for light.

The flames licked at the darkness. Half of Xie Zheng’s face was bathed in warm gold light, his refined brows and eyes like lines drawn with ink. His facial contours were sharply defined. He tilted his head slightly and, watching Fan Changyu make the bed, said with perfect seriousness, though nonsense, “I don’t know. Perhaps the physicians have their own arrangements.”

Fan Changyu didn’t know much about military management, so she didn’t dwell on it. After finishing the bed and letting the drowsy Changning lie down, she said to Xie Zheng, “If you need to drink water or get up in the night, just call me.”

When Xie Zheng heard the words “get up in the night,” the tips of his ears burned, and he froze, looking at Fan Changyu in bewilderment.

When their gazes met, Fan Changyu was suddenly overcome with realization, and her own face flushed hot. She turned away and said, “What are you thinking? If you call me, I’ll just go ask one of the patrolling soldiers nearby to help you.”

To make it easier to take care of Xie Zheng, Fan Changyu placed the bed she shared with Changning right next to his—less than three feet apart.

She was so exhausted these days that she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

Only when the breathing of the two sisters had grown slow and steady did Xie Zheng turn his head toward their side. There was still a half-burned log left in the brazier, the faint flame flickering weakly. Its wavering light washed gently over Fan Changyu’s face, adding a touch of indescribable allure to her quiet features.

A strange stirring rose in his chest, fierce and unstoppable, like a thousand ants gnawing from within. He stared for a long time at Fan Changyu’s lips, slightly pursed from the way her cheek pressed against the pillow. The darkness in his eyes grew deeper than the night itself. Yet in the end, he did nothing—he turned away and closed his eyes.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

The next day, a new batch of wounded soldiers was assigned to this tent. Some had injured arms, some injured legs, but none were so badly hurt they couldn’t move at all—they could still look after one another.

Fan Changyu took on the task of decocting medicine for these men, which also made it easier to tend to Xie Zheng during the day. At night, she still returned to her own tent with Changning to sleep, while Xie Zheng asked the newly arrived wounded to help keep an eye on things.

The new soldiers were all easy to get along with and rarely noisy. Fan Changyu thought they seemed different from the other wounded she had tended before, but since every person was different, she didn’t think much of it.

She had no idea these soldiers were men Xie Zheng had personally ordered Gongsun Yin to transfer from his own guard unit the previous night, after hearing her question.