Chapter 6: Awakening

“It’s hard to say. He might develop a fever tonight. I need to keep an eye on him. If he makes it through the night, it’ll be like pulling him back from the edge of death,” Xie Jiu’er said as she picked up a chopstickful of Ground Moss and began to eat.

She puffed out her cheeks and chewed a couple of times, then paused, feeling something was off. “I forgot to mention it yesterday. When Big Uncle and the others left, they took everything edible and usable from the house. Do we have any salt left? This Ground Moss tastes incredibly bland.”

Speaking of salt, Zhou shi couldn’t help but sigh again. “Of course not! These past few days, the bit of salt in our food came from rinsing out the leftover salt jars that a few families in the village didn’t take with them. But today, it’s all gone. There’s no salt at all in this dish. How could it not taste bland?”

Xie Jiu’er nodded and said no more. She quietly continued eating. A lack of salt over time weakens the body and could lead to health issues. Once Xiao Jinyu felt better tomorrow, she could try boiling saltwater to extract salt.

But that was just something she had read in books. Whether it would actually work was uncertain, so she kept it to herself for now—no point in getting everyone’s hopes up for nothing.

That night, Xie Jiu’er frequently checked on Xiao Jinyu’s condition. He was still unconscious, his lips parted slightly. Who knew how long it had been since he last ate? Naturally, he couldn’t drink porridge in this state.

Using her chopsticks, Xie Jiu’er pried his mouth open just enough and slowly poured in the dog milkweed berries medicinal decoction she had prepared. She then moistened his lips with a damp cloth.

By midnight, she was so sleepy her head bobbed like a pecking chick, but she didn’t dare sleep. In his dreams, Xiao Jinyu wasn’t faring much better. He dreamt of someone stabbing his thigh repeatedly with a needle—worse still, the person grumbled and cursed under their breath: “Annoying! Missed the spot again.”

Then the dream shifted. He saw himself ambushed by his own side at the frontlines between two armies. He fled for his life, soldiers hot on his heels. When he finally shook off the pursuit, he was utterly drained. He knew staying in the mountains meant certain death, yet his eyelids were unbearably heavy—he just couldn’t wake up.

After midnight, Xiao Jinyu began to burn with fever. There was no medicine at home. All Xie Jiu’er could do was repeatedly wipe his armpits, palms, and soles with warm water.

Around 3 a.m., his fever was so high it scalded to the touch. His face was flushed red, and he started thrashing uncontrollably. Alarmed, Xie Jiu’er knew if this went on, even if he didn’t die, his brain might be damaged. She crushed some more dog milkweed berries, squeezed out the juice, applied it to his wounds, and frequently changed the cold compresses on his forehead with cloths soaked in ice water.

Then she remembered reading in an ancient medical book that people in the past would boil willow bark as an anti-inflammatory and fever-reducing remedy. It likely had a similar effect to dog milkweed berries. Seeing that his fever was still dangerously high, she rushed outside, stripped some bark from the willow tree, boiled half a bowl of it, and roughly forced it down his throat.

After all that fuss, she was exhausted. Of the half bowl of willow bark water, who knew how much actually made it into his stomach? She realized she’d been misled by TV dramas. In those, medicine could be fed mouth-to-mouth to unconscious patients. But in reality, if she weren’t forceful, she wouldn’t even be able to open his mouth. How on earth could a spoon fail, but lips succeed?

The warm water wipes didn’t seem particularly effective either. She remembered how, in the future, nurses would sometimes place ice packs under a patient’s arms during high fevers. So she fumbled outside in the dark, chipped off some ice from the well cover, wrapped it in one of her unused garments, and tucked it under his armpits. By dawn, the fever finally began to subside. He opened his eyes drowsily a few times.

Seeing this, Xie Jiu’er quickly reheated the porridge and began feeding him.

Xiao Jinyu, born of noble blood, had likely never eaten something so unpleasant. Half-awake, he chewed a few bites and suddenly opened his eyes wide.

Xie Jiu’er spoke just in time. “Judging by your fine clothing, I’d guess you’re not used to coarse food like this. But think carefully. Out here in the wilderness, even this gruel is considered a luxury. Some households in our village had already resorted to eating human flesh before fleeing. If you spit this out, there’s nothing else I can offer you.”

“You’re the one who saved me?” Xiao Jinyu’s voice was hoarse. He bared his teeth, grimacing through the pain as he sat up, studying the girl sitting across from him. She was dressed in patched, faded clothes. Her face was thin and yellowish, but she looked bright and full of life.

“You’ve broken the fever. You should be out of danger now. Eat up and get some proper rest,” Xie Jiu’er said as she shoved the bowl of porridge into his hands. Since he was awake now, there was no need for her to continue feeding him.

Xiao Jinyu took the bowl, shifted his body to sit up straighter, and suddenly felt a chill on his legs. Looking down, he saw his bare thighs exposed.

“Why’d you take off my pants?” he asked, hastily grabbing the blanket to cover himself. This girl had no shame—she had stripped his pants and was acting like nothing had happened.

Xie Jiu’er rolled her eyes. This Golden Thigh was way too sensitive. “With a wound that bad on your leg, how was I supposed to treat it without cutting open your pants?”

Still a bit dazed from just waking up, Xiao Jinyu looked down and was shocked by what he saw. The wound had been stitched in an unexpected way. Forgetting about decorum between men and women, he asked, “You can sew wounds like this? Where did you learn that technique?”

Xie Jiu’er looked at him proudly. “Don’t worry about where I learned it. Just tell me—did it work or not? With such a deep and long gash, if I hadn’t stitched it, even if you’d survived by sheer luck, there’s no way you’d have woken up so quickly.”

Xiao Jinyu took in the situation and didn’t argue. He began wolfing down the porridge. He hadn’t eaten in two days. No matter how bad it tasted, he had to eat—he had to live and reclaim everything that was rightfully his.

“Rest up. It’ll take about half a month before the wound heals enough. I’ll remove the stitches then.”

Without waiting for a response, Xie Jiu’er went straight to Zhou shi’s room and lay down.

There was no helping it. Though they had free access to any house in the village now, there were only three quilts. Xie Jiu’er had given hers to Xiao Jinyu, so she could only squeeze in with Zhou shi.

She only managed to fall asleep when the sky began to brighten. By midmorning, she forced herself up. She had to find a way to get some salt. Without it, everyone would be too weak to even run if they ran into danger.

Though the morning air was still chilly, the sun had risen nicely by that hour. Before leaving, she checked in on Xiao Jinyu again. To her surprise, he hadn’t slept. He was sitting quietly on the kang.

Xie Jiu’er walked over and touched his forehead with the back of her hand. Thankfully, the fever hadn’t returned.

“Feeling better?”

“The wound’s a bit itchy, but everything else feels fine,” Xiao Jinyu replied solemnly, keeping his eyes on her.

“Itching is good. It means the wound is healing. Oh, right—take off your pants. I’ll stitch them up for you. You can roll over and shift around a bit now.”

With that, Xie Jiu’er left to find needle and thread in Zhou shi’s room, while Xiao Jinyu waited on the kang, still wrapped in the blanket.

As she sat down to sew, Xiao Jinyu watched her. She pricked herself four times out of five.

“Do you not usually do needlework?” he asked, hesitating.