Chapter 8

“Xie Zhiyuan?”

Yun Miao called softly.

Only shallow breaths responded at her ear.

The wind gently swept her robe, carrying away the scent of blood from the boy’s body. Pressed beneath him, she lay on her back, staring up at the sky. A few fallen petals landed on them, filling the air with a faint, sweet fragrance.

Amidst the floral scent, Yun Miao closed her eyes to gather her composure for a moment.

Then, opening her eyes, she raised a hand to her face. Her palm was smeared with blood.

…It was Xie Zhiyuan’s blood.

She turned her head to the side. The boy beside her had already fallen into unconsciousness. His face, pale from excessive blood loss, looked like it was carved from ivory. His thick, dark lashes rested against his cheeks, giving his sleeping face a tranquility reminiscent of fresh snow on a winter morning.

Yun Miao was afraid of blood.

But at this moment, Xie Zhiyuan lay injured and unconscious beside her.

If his wounds weren’t treated quickly, they could become critical—or even fatal.

Yun Miao bit her lip tightly.

Carefully cradling his head in her palms, she wriggled out from underneath him. She extended her arms and gingerly supported his body, struggling to help him sit up.

Though his slender frame appeared delicate, his weight proved a challenge for her.

His chin rested against her shoulder; his head slightly bowed. His disheveled hair brushed against her cheek and ear, carrying a faintly clean and crisp fragrance. His eyes remained shut, but she could hear his breath—rapid and uneven.

Warm breaths skimmed across her neck, leaving her skin feeling almost feverish.

His hands were icy, his breathing burning hot. She guessed he might have a fever.

Threading her arms under his shoulders in an almost embracing posture, Yun Miao managed to lift him to his feet. Stumbling slightly, she helped him toward the bed draped in brocade, trying her best to lay him down gently.

However, as she leaned over to place him on the bed, she tripped over a small table by the bedside and fell forward, pulling the unconscious boy down with her.

Both of them tumbled onto the soft bed, cushioned with silk and velvet.

The boy groaned faintly in his sleep, now pinned beneath her. His breathing became quick and uneven, but he didn’t wake.

Yun Miao pressed her forehead against his chest, closing her eyes briefly. Once the sharp pain from her shin—struck against the table corner—subsided, she braced herself with one hand and slowly sat up from atop him.

It was then that she finally noticed the wound.

A sharp arrowhead had pierced through his robes and lodged deep into his abdomen.

The arrow’s shaft had already been snapped off, leaving only the blade embedded in his body. Blood seeped continuously from the wound, soaking the deep crimson fabric of his clothes, turning the color even darker—an intense, vivid hue reminiscent of the most vibrant flowers blooming in the depths of a late spring forest.

The sight of so much blood made Yun Miao dizzy. She quickly shifted her gaze away and instead focused on his sleeping face.

He looked pained, his brows furrowed tightly. His ragged breaths made his neck subtly rise and fall. Beneath the open collar of his robes, a hint of a delicate and straight collarbone was visible, resembling the faint silhouette of distant mountains after rain.

This scene…

It was identical to how she had first found him in the mountain cave.

Yun Miao reached for a teacup on the table by the bed, dripping some warm tea onto his parched lips. She gently tilted his head, letting the tea flow into his slightly parted mouth.

In his sleep, he let out a low cough. The pale hue of his lips regained a faint touch of color, which brought her a small sense of relief.

After hesitating for a moment, she resolved to attempt treating his wound.

Shutting her eyes to block out the sight of the blood, she tentatively reached out, her trembling hands fumbling to remove his outer robe.

Beneath the crimson outer garment was a white inner robe, now dyed completely red with blood, creating a grotesque yet strangely captivating sight.

The unconscious boy’s skin was cool and pale, almost translucent, and the deep red of the blood emphasized this fragility, making him look like a melting snowdrift.

Yun Miao remembered reading somewhere that wounds this deep couldn’t be ignored, nor could the arrowhead be pulled out hastily. The former could lead to persistent fever; the latter, excessive blood loss.

The best course was to immediately stop the bleeding upon removing the arrowhead.

But for her, this task seemed nearly impossible.

She wanted to call for help but had promised to keep his secrets. There was no way she could explain why a wounded boy with blades hidden on his person was in her room. Revealing this would expose all of Xie Zhiyuan’s secrets.

So, she had no choice but to handle it herself.

Yun Miao feared blood, pain, knives, and arrowheads. She didn’t want to touch any of these things.

But…

If she left him like this, would he die?

Yun Miao pressed her lips together, forcing herself to focus. Mimicking the scenes she’d read in novels or seen on television; she tore silk into long strips for bandages. Her hands trembling, she reached for the arrowhead embedded in Xie Zhiyuan’s abdomen.

The moment her fingers brushed against the arrow; the boy groaned.

Perhaps the pain had spiked too suddenly, for he woke abruptly from his dazed sleep, his vision shrouded in darkness.

Sensing someone nearby, he reacted instinctively.

With a sharp “swish,” the red ribbon around his sleeve came loose. A short blade, a foot in length, slid silently into his palm. With practiced swiftness, he gripped the blade and turned it toward the source of movement.

The sound of a silken curtain falling filled the room. He grabbed the collar of the figure near him, flipping her beneath him. Ice-cold steel pressed against her slender neck.

Then, he froze.

For a moment, he stared into a pair of wide, luminous eyes.

At that instant, a knock sounded at the door.

“Ah Miao?”

Madam Mu’s voice called from outside. She rapped the door with her knuckles. “What’s going on? I thought I heard something in your room…”

“Nothing, Mother.”

The girl’s clear voice rang out, cheerful yet calm. “I just tripped over a table corner.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

Madam Mu sounded concerned. “Shall I come in to take a look?”

“No need, Mother,” Yun Miao called back. “I’ve already changed into my sleeping robes.”

“I just heard about something troubling on the street.”

Madam Mu continued. “There was a fight among some Jianghu figures. Many died, and the entire street has been cordoned off. The Jinwu Guard is conducting house-to-house searches.”

She gave a careful reminder: “You must be cautious these days. Don’t leave the residence unnecessarily.”

“I understand, Mother,” Yun Miao replied crisply. “I’m going to sleep now.”

Lady Mu added a few more detailed reminders before turning away with her lamp.

The flickering candlelight outside gradually faded as Lady Mu’s footsteps disappeared around the corner.

Yun Miao reached out to extinguish the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, with only faint moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains.

Xie Zhiyuan had already released the knife from his grip, propping himself up on one elbow at the edge of the bed. The earlier murderous intent had completely dissipated. With his head slightly lowered, Yun Miao couldn’t see the expression on his face.

In the quiet darkness, their breaths intertwined.

“You…” Yun Miao began, wanting to say something.

Suddenly, she was pulled into a forceful embrace. Her head bumped into his chest with a thud, making her tear up from the pain.

“Don’t open your eyes,” Xie Zhiyuan said softly.

One hand pressed the back of her head firmly into his chest, his fingers buried in her hair. His other hand reached for the arrow deeply embedded in his abdomen. Rubbing it slightly, he yanked it out with force!

Yun Miao shivered, catching a metallic scent of thick blood, sharp like rusted iron.

At the moment the arrow was pulled out, blood gushed out in torrents, but the boy by her side made no sound.

He tossed the extracted arrow aside, bit down on a cloth strip, and began wrapping his wound.

Lifting the edge of his inner robe revealed a taut and slender waistline. Blood seeped through the hastily wrapped bandages, staining them.

The air was saturated with the stench of blood. Yun Miao shut her eyes tightly.

Throughout the entire process of removing the arrow and dressing his wound, the boy held her firmly in his arms.

Her eyelids remained closed, her long lashes trembling as her forehead pressed against his chest. She breathed in the clean, crisp scent of snow from him, trying to counteract the overwhelming metallic tang of blood.

“Are you okay?”

Moments later, he asked in a low voice, “You didn’t see the blood, did you?”

Yun Miao nodded. The boy before her cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Then he let her go, lowering his head slightly to rest his chin on her shoulder, his eyes gently closing.

The intimacy of this position was akin to the tender gestures of lovers, but Yun Miao knew he was merely running out of strength.

“Do you still have the gold seal from the Hundred Ghosts Pavilion?”

His voice came softly, interspersed with shallow breaths, his blood loss making his consciousness begin to fade.

“Yes,” Yun Miao nodded, feeling his body slowly slide down. She instinctively tightened her grip around him.

“I need a favor,” he said weakly. “Take that gold seal and head south from here to the Hundred Ghosts Pavilion. Find Old Man Dong and have him buy a herb called Dragon’s Blood Grass from the black market immediately.”

“Bring it back before dawn,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “Crush it, mix it with water, and feed it to me.”

“I’m not familiar with the way to the Hundred Ghosts Pavilion,” Yun Miao said, her voice tinged with worry. “What if I can’t make it back before dawn?”

There was no response.

Turning her head, Yun Miao saw the boy’s pale face.

His lashes fluttered slightly against his closed eyes. His hand fell limp to his side, and his head tilted to one side—motionless.

He had fainted again.

---

The night was as cold as water, the moonlight as silver.

Yun Miao, cloaked in a hooded robe, ran through the streets.

The night watch had already struck midnight. This was supposed to be the dead of night, but the slums remained bustling with activity.

The local authorities had abandoned managing this chaotic area, rendering curfews meaningless. The streets were still lively even at such a late hour, filled with drunken brawlers and shambling addicts.

Yun Miao wove her way through the crowds, dodging any unwelcome attention from those who tried to harass her.

Keeping her hood low, she still stood out as a young girl. Several intoxicated men reached for her, but she kept her head down and slipped through the throng.

She was anxious, worried she wouldn’t make it back before dawn.

Before leaving the Yun residence, she had placed the unconscious Xie Zhiyuan on the bed. Leaning close to listen to his breath and heartbeat, she realized both were faint, barely there.

She feared he wouldn’t survive the night.

He was the first person she had met in this world and her first friend here. Despite his dangerous nature, he had treated her well.

At least for now, her greatest wish was for him to live.

In the dark, she suddenly tripped over something and fell hard.

“Hiss…” She winced as her robe snagged on a sharp stone. Sitting on the ground, she rubbed her aching knee, then noticed a person lying in the street. It was this person she had stumbled over.

It was an old man wrapped in a filthy robe. His body was bruised and battered, looking like someone on the brink of drowning. His cloudy eyes carried a decaying look.

“Water…” the old man rasped. “Water…”

People bustled past without sparing him a glance. The old man looked on the verge of death, reeking of a foul stench. His lips were cracked and dry, likely from severe dehydration. If left like this, he might die of thirst.

Yun Miao bit her lip.

She was in a hurry to buy medicine to save someone, but this old man was pitiful. She couldn’t harden her heart to ignore him.

Hesitating, Yun Miao scooped a handful of water from the street-side channel, then carefully walked over to the old man, dripping the clear water into his parched lips.

The old man’s eyes flicked open as he drank the water.

Suddenly, he shot out a hand, grabbing onto Yun Miao’s robe!

Startled, she tried to pull away, only to see the old man clutching her robe tightly. His fingers brushed against a stain of blood on the fabric.

It was blood she had accidentally smeared on herself while tending to Xie Zhiyuan.

The old man’s movements were snake-like as he brought his fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking out to taste the blood.

Yun Miao stumbled back in alarm, only to hear the old man speak in a raspy voice.

“Girl, give it up.”

His cloudy eyes locked onto hers as he licked the blood off his fingers, his expression eerily calm.

“The person you’re trying to save is already dying.”

Yun Miao froze.

“Don’t be surprised,” the old man said with a sinister chuckle. “I know poison when I taste it. Just one taste of blood, and I can tell. That person is poisoned. Anyone who gets poisoned like this won’t live long.”

“How long does he have?” Yun Miao blurted out instinctively.

The old man glanced at her, then gave a hoarse, mocking laugh, exposing his decayed teeth.

“…Less than half a day.”