Chapter 45

Shao Qing fell ill suddenly and severely. At first, she had a high fever, and although it briefly subsided, before Wei Jing could even rejoice, it flared up again.

Twice the fever receded, only to return, and she showed no signs of improvement. She remained unconscious, her complexion alternating between flushed red and deathly pale, lying weakly on the bed as if even breathing was an arduous task.

Wei Jing grew increasingly anxious and distressed. He gripped Shao Qing’s hand, feeling its burning heat, his face darkening as he demanded, “Why hasn’t her fever broken yet? Do you even know how to treat her?!”

It was Yan Ming who received this harsh bark.

Wei Jing naturally exuded a commanding presence—in his state of anxious anger, his oppressive aura was startling. Nanny Ping and Chunxi barely dared to breathe. In contrast, Yan Ming maintained his usual calm demeanor, unhurriedly packing up the medicine box.

“Her prolonged exhaustion has depleted her vital energy, so her fever keeps recurring. It has been festering internally and is manifesting externally—which is a good sign. Once she recovers, proper nourishment is essential; being hasty will do no good.”

After all, she isn’t made of iron. For such a delicate little girl, being overexerted would only lead to her falling ill sooner rather than later—and forcing herself is not the remedy.

In fact, back in Hexiang, Yan Ming had already noticed that Shao Qing was excessively frightened and fatigued. Since she still possessed strong energy and spirit, he didn’t pay much attention to it; naturally, he didn’t feel the need to hurry her recovery.

“Besides, too much worry harms the spleen. With so many concerns weighing on her heart, how could she possibly recover easily?”

Seeing Wei Jing’s dark and almost predatory expression, Yan Ming smirked and said, “Using medicine fit for tigers and wolves would work immediately. If you want, I can prescribe it.”

The medicine meant for tigers and wolves would damage her foundation—of course, Wei Jing would disagree. Yan Ming snorted softly, left behind his freshly prepared prescription, flicked his sleeve, and walked away. With a cold expression, he barked, “Hurry up and decoct the medicine!”

Nanny Ping and Chunxi hurried off, and despite Wei Jing’s evident anxiety, the medicine finally arrived after a long wait. Yet he discovered that Shao Qing was clenching her teeth so tightly that she couldn’t swallow it. Without a moment’s hesitation, he picked up the medicine bowl and downed it in one gulp.

Gently lifting Shao Qing by the back of her neck, he massaged along both sides of her jawbone. Leaning in, his thin lips carefully met hers as he fed the medicine into her mouth.

Almost immediately, the residue felt sticky, and Shao Qing broke out into a cold sweat once again—her nightclothes soaked through. He instantly ordered, “Bring water!”

Not daring to let her be exposed to the chill, Wei Jing shooed away Nanny Ping and Chunxi. He hurriedly closed all the doors and windows of the outer and inner rooms, then lowered the cover so he could help her remove her clothes.

Her skin remained smooth and supple, yet the once luminous, porcelain-white flesh was now uniformly flushed red and felt scalding to the touch. Wei Jing’s heart harbored no trace of lasciviousness—only anxiety and urgency remained. He wrung a hot handkerchief and quickly wiped her sweat away, then hastily dressed her once more. When he touched the bedding, he found that the place where she had been lying was damp. Quickly, he lifted her and changed her position.

Although Yan Ming’s demeanor was unpleasant and his words could practically choke a person, one couldn’t deny that his medical skills were exceptionally refined. He insisted that after the medicine was administered, all one had to do was wait—impatience was useless, so they really had no choice but to wait.

But how could Wei Jing not be anxious? After just a day and a night had passed, red veins began to show in his eyes. Bending over, he wrapped his arms around Shao Qing, his cheek pressed tightly against hers, as though her burning warmth were searing right into his heart with an agonizing, scorching pain.

“Ah Qing, please get well soon.”

Though she appeared delicate all this time, she had always been remarkably resilient. Whether fleeing through dense forests or being forced to jump into a river, she continuously exuded an astonishing vitality—a brilliance that was both dazzling and deeply inspiring, even influencing him without his realizing it. She always gave the impression that nothing could bring her down, even though she was inherently fragile. But in truth, that was just an illusion.

“Exhaustion and excessive worry”—these two words haunted Wei Jing as he ruminated over them, his chest feeling as though it were weighed down by an immense boulder, each breath coming in heavy, labored struggles.

For all this time, she had been the one caring for and looking after him, always striving to help him. Yet he, driven by a subconscious misperception, had overestimated his wife’s strength, causing her to shoulder too many worries and thereby overburdening herself into illness.

“It’s my fault—I won’t let it happen again.”

Seeing her, weak and listless, lying on the bed, he was frantic and filled with dread, mixed with a trace of panic. Clutching her tightly, he whispered hoarsely, “Ah Qing, please get well soon.”

In a daze, she didn’t know who had thrown her into a sea of fire. Her body writhed in agony under the scorching flames, yet her thoughts sank into profound darkness—bereft of fatigue and panic, without anxious restlessness or sleepless worry.

Everything, absolutely everything, drifted away from her. Shao Qing felt an odd sense of relief. The physical pain had given way to a serenity of mind, and she found that, surprisingly, it was rather pleasant.

Just as she was about to succumb to this state completely, the flames suddenly parted before her eyes, revealing a strange and familiar scene.

Amidst a boundless forest with rain as cold as ice, a young woman with a pallid face supported a tall man whose entire body was flushed a deep red. The two stumbled and struggled through the muddy terrain.

It was her—and Wei Jing!

Shao Qing immediately held her breath and followed closely behind them. She watched as they became encircled and were relentlessly pursued, forced to leap into the surging river in a desperate bid for survival.

Fortunately, they both survived. From Hexiang to Pingtao to Gaoling, despite the journey’s countless hardships and perils, the first light of dawn gradually emerged—and everything began to improve.

Revisiting past events, even the details she hadn’t remembered were laid bare. At the very moment when “she” stepped into Gaoling, Shao Qing burst into tears of elation.

So, it turned out—it was truly that difficult!

Fortunately, they made it through!

Unfortunately, Shao Qing didn’t get to enjoy her relief for long, because the scene before her shifted again to reveal a stranger barely clinging to life.

Under a low, makeshift shelter, a dark and emaciated woman lay on a crude wooden plank bed. Her hair and face were streaked with crimson patches; her throat and tongue were swollen and in pain, making it hard for her to breathe. She coughed violently, curling up on the bed and writhing in agony.

“The secret poison of the Pu tribe!”

For some reason, that term suddenly sprang to Shao Qing’s mind, sending a chill down her spine. Immediately afterward, the scene shifted once more.

It turned out that it wasn’t just the dark, emaciated woman who had been poisoned—men and women in the prime of life, the elderly, even toddlers, were all on the ground, writhing and howling in pain, their cries piercing the sky. The once-bustling and prosperous Gaoling City had become a living hell.

She found herself amidst the chaos, running in panic. “No! No, not like this!”

“No!!”

Shao Qing struggled desperately, and Wei Jing grew frantic: “Ah Qing, Ah Qing! Wake up quickly!”

After Yan Ming had applied his latest round of medicine, Wei Jing anxiously waited for over an hour until Shao Qing’s fever finally subsided. Examining her pulse, Yan Ming announced that her condition was improving. Overjoyed, he had just wiped and redressed her when, unexpectedly, she began to struggle and call out. He threw the towel aside in one swift motion, then instantly turned back and wrapped his arms around her. “Ah Qing, don’t be afraid—I’m here! Open your eyes quickly; with me here, you have nothing to fear!”

With his urgent, repeated calls, Shao Qing finally broke free from the nightmare. Her eyelashes fluttered a few times before she finally opened her eyes. As her vision cleared, a handsome yet haggard face came into view. Wei Jing’s eyes were bloodshot from his exhaustion, and when he saw her awake, his face lit up with wild delight.

Fresh from a severe illness and unaware of what day it was, the lingering terror from the nightmare still haunted Shao Qing. She stared blankly for a long moment before murmuring, “…cough, cough… have I been sick for a long time?”

Only then did she remember the past events—had she been ill? Sick for that long? Even someone with Wei Jing’s strength had become so haggard. The moment she spoke, she discovered her throat was dry and itchy, causing her extreme discomfort as she furrowed her brows and coughed repeatedly.

“You’ve been ill for more than a day—with a recurring high fever that won’t break.”

Wei Jing immediately poured some warm water and carefully fed her while holding her in his arms. “Take it slow; don’t rush,” he advised gently.

Yan Ming had said that once she woke, the fever would essentially subside. Overjoyed, Wei Jing, after finishing a cup of water for her, asked softly, “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat something?”

She hadn’t eaten in over a day, and he was worried she might starve.

“Mm.”

Shao Qing was indeed very hungry, but the feeling of being swaddled with the blanket was unpleasant. She struggled, using her hands to prop herself up on the bed, intending to sit up on her own, yet her limbs were so weak that she fell back onto the bed immediately.

Their conditions were quite good now—the bed covers and pillows were extremely soft, so falling onto them didn’t hurt. However, Shao Qing felt as if even her lungs were shaking; she lay weakly on the bed, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to calm herself. She gave a bitter smile—it was indeed the recurring high fever that made her body feel completely drained.

“Ah Qing!” Wei Jing got off the bed and ordered Nanny Ping to bring some porridge. When his call was heard, he hurried back. Anxious and heartbroken, he said, “If you need to get up, just call for me.”

In his urgency, his tone was chiding, yet his actions were extraordinarily gentle as he picked up Shao Qing, took a large bolster pillow, propped it against the headboard, and then laid her back on it.

Shao Qing smiled faintly.

It was daylight now; sunlight filtered through the window screen, falling onto the sky-blue gauze canopy adorned with butterflies and flowers. Patches of light sifted through the gaps, landing on Shao Qing’s face. Her complexion was as pale as paper, her lips faint and devoid of color, resting softly against the bolster pillow, with a weak, feeble smile.

She appeared so fragile that, for a moment, it almost seemed as if she would vanish as easily as a speck of light.

Something gripped Wei Jing’s heart, slowly twisting tighter, and the pain in him was almost unbearable.

“Ah Qing, it’s my fault—I’ve made you suffer so much.” He bent down to hold her tightly and murmured apologetically, “I promise it will never happen again.”

“Yan Ming also said that you worry too much, and I had no idea.”

In recent days, while scheming to seize Gaoling, he noticed how restless Shao Qing had become. He never expected that her constant worrying would turn into an illness. Wei Jing reproached himself, “Ah Qing, I promise I will never let you be burdened with these troubles again.”

Those words, as Shao Qing silently chewed over them, brought flashes of a nightmare filled with sorrowful wails. A chill ran down her back, and she cried urgently, “No! From now on, no matter what happens, you must tell me everything!”

Her heart pounded wildly and cold sweat broke out all over her body. Overwhelmed by an immediate wave of exhaustion, she panted heavily while staring fixedly at Wei Jing.

“Okay, okay!”

Startled by her sudden, intense reaction, Wei Jing’s heart clenched, and he quickly responded, “I never hide anything from you. From now on, everything will remain just as it was before. So please, don’t worry.”

“That’s good.”

A bout of dizziness swept over Shao Qing, and she could only weakly close her eyes.

Shao Qing’s high fever finally subsided. Unfortunately, Wei Jing’s joy was short-lived—he soon discovered that, contrary to his hopes, Shao Qing wasn’t steadily recovering. Instead, she experienced intermittent low-grade fevers and never fully bounced back.

When she wasn’t feverish, she sat up on the bed, lost in thought. She remained perpetually listless; her mood might be calm, but she couldn’t recover her usual vigor. She even suffered from nightmares—and after each nightmare, a low-grade fever inevitably returned.

Even though Wei Jing wasn’t a skilled doctor, he could tell that this wasn’t the normal course of recovery. He questioned Yan Ming, but Yan Ming replied, “If the illness of the heart is not treated, if the worries only deepen, then the condition will keep recurring.”

“Ah Qing, tell me—what exactly are you worrying about?”

Shao Qing’s spirit was still not great and her body remained weak, yet she didn’t like lying in bed all day. Instead, she was propped up against the headboard. At his sudden question, she was taken aback; she hadn’t expected Wei Jing to ask that. She lifted her eyes to look at him and saw his brows tightly furrowed. “Yan Ming said that you worry too much—no wonder your condition is so hard to improve.”

Worry too much?

Indeed, Shao Qing did. Ever since her first nightmare, she had uncontrollably repeated those horrifying dreams. The vivid, immersive scenes made each experience feel alarmingly real, forcing her to struggle over and over again with shock, panic, and fear.

“Ah Qing, tell me,” Wei Jing urged.

She paused, and Wei Jing took her hand, drawing her into his arms. Gently stroking her now considerably gaunt cheeks, he murmured, “We are husband and wife. Whatever worries you have, just tell me.” He promised, with all his might, he would do everything to ease her distress.

“Okay,” she replied after locking eyes with him for a moment.

Wei Jing, too, had grown thin; during her illness, he had suffered as much as she did. In fact, Shao Qing had been longing for a good opportunity to talk with him. Looking into his eyes—brimming with urgent worry and concern—she felt this was the perfect moment.

After a moment’s thought, she said, “When I had a high fever, I had a dream—in the dream, the people of Gaoling were afflicted by the secret poison of the Pu tribe, and their wails echoed everywhere.”

Stunned, Wei Jing said, “But the poisoned salt—we’ve already taken care of it. The common people of Gaoling will not be poisoned.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he suddenly recalled the day when Yuan Hong had administered the poison—and how his wife, disregarding everything, had tried desperately to stop him. After he had made that agonizing decision, her restlessness began.

Afterward, whenever he reproached himself for failing his mother and elder brother, her brows would invariably furrow. She would then embrace him and murmur, “It will succeed. It will surely succeed. The spirits of your mother and your elder brother in heaven would never wish you to resort to any unscrupulous means for revenge.”

He suddenly had a vague premonition—wondering what it was that troubled her so.

Wei Jing clenched his hands and turned his head, diverting his gaze.

“My husband.” Shao Qing gently cupped his face with both hands, ensuring he met her eyes. “I’m afraid.”

She offered a bitter smile. When speaking to someone as clever as him, her words were always succinct—she needed only one sentence for him to understand.

“I’m terrified that if you ever face a choice like this again, you might choose differently.”

“My husband, though I cannot fully share in your heart-wrenching pain, I feel that the sorrow is almost unbearable.”

Wei Jing began to breathe rapidly, his jaw set tight. Rising from her kneeling position so that her eyes were level with his, Shao Qing continued, “My husband, in recent days, you have been tormented by relentless nightmares—overwhelmed by self-reproach for not having placed your mother and elder brother first.”

“I truly empathize with you and do not think you are at fault. As a son, as a brother—when burdened with such a deep-seated blood feud, how could you not continue to harbor that burning resentment?”

“I’m afraid—afraid that you’ll be left with regrets, that when you face such a choice next time, you’ll… you’ll…”

Wei Jing’s dilemma from then was still as vivid as ever in her mind.

“Revenge is inevitable, but I do not want you to resort to unscrupulous means—even to the point of disregarding the lives and deaths of ordinary people!”

This is not a matter of soldiers suffering casualties. Soldiers, once enlisted, embark on a path where dying in combat is not unexpected. But ordinary civilians are different—they are unarmed and defenseless, left at the mercy of others.

“These past few days, immersed in nightmares, I can no longer tell the truth from illusion. I feel as though I’m covered in sin, burdened by the weight of countless innocent lives! I’m so afraid—I feel I can’t bear this burden. I can hardly breathe!”

Those agonized wails seem to echo in my ears once more. Shao Qing clutches her ears tightly, tears streaming down her face, murmuring, “If it really is so, if that truly is the case, then why did I even survive in the first place?”

“Nonsense!”

Tormented repeatedly by nightmares—and even more fragile in her weakened state—Shao Qing breaks into uncontrollable sobs. Wei Jing roars angrily, “What nonsense are you spouting?”

He shows his anger toward his wife for the first time: “Such rubbish—you must never utter another word of it again!”