Chapter 4

Shao Qing was utterly startled and instinctively reached out to support him. However, she had gravely underestimated Wei Jing’s body’s heaviness and overestimated her strength at that moment. Instead of managing to support him, she was swept along and forcefully knocked to the ground.

Her right arm—the one forced against the ground—throbbed so intensely it went numb, but she had no time to stop and massage it. Grimacing in pain, she scrambled to her feet and rushed over to check on Wei Jing.

Wei Jing’s chest was marked by a large, dark red patch—a sight that was nothing short of alarming. Immediately, Shao Qing reached out and pressed against the major artery by his neck; fortunately, it was still pulsating. She then carefully checked his breathing; though it was rapid and faint, it was clearly present. It seemed that he had merely fainted.

With a huge sigh of relief, she quickly pulled apart the front of his garment to examine the wounds on his collarbone. There, she found four horrifying holes, where flesh and blood were horrifically mangled. Fortunately, because the chain had been drawn out some time ago, the gush of fresh blood had slowed considerably—even though blood continued to seep out.

Without hesitation, Shao Qing picked up her sword and swiftly cut off a section of her inner shirt. She divided the fabric into two pieces, folded them thickly, and pressed them firmly against his collarbone wound. Finding the pulsing point of the subclavian artery beneath his collarbone, she applied pressure to stem the bleeding.

While maintaining that pressure, she examined his other wounds. The several sword cuts turned out to be minor injuries; the blood had long since clotted. Yet something felt off to her. Wei Jing had always struck her as resilient—if he had lost so much blood, at the very least, he should have been able to prop himself up with his sword. But instead, he had collapsed so suddenly.

After a long moment, when she felt conditions had stabilized a bit, Shao Qing lifted the blood-stained heavy cloth for a quick glance. Seeing that the bleeding had mostly stopped, she hurriedly moved to check his left arm. It appeared that before he lost consciousness, he had intended to cover that very spot. She remembered that this spot was only a very minor wound; after all, that last meteor dart had merely grazed his arm, and then it had even cut off her hair.

Because she knew this wound was the mildest of all, Shao Qing hadn’t bothered to check it immediately. But now, when she tore open the slit in his sleeve to take a look, her face went pale.

“How could this be?!”

A deep slash—about half a finger’s width deep—had been inflicted by a sharp weapon. The blood that flowed from it was a dark brown tinged with black, and from the wound to the surrounding skin, an area about the size of a palm had turned a grim grayish-black.

“Poison!”

Shao Qing was utterly shocked. For a moment, she felt a chilly patch on the back of her head. Hastily, she reached up to feel it and confirmed that she only touched a very short regrowth of hair, with no cut on her scalp. Only then did her wildly pounding heart begin to steady.

After all, if even Wei Jing had collapsed, she surely wouldn’t still be full of energy if she were poisoned.

Without a moment to spare for lingering fear, Shao Qing quickly cut a strip from the hem of her outer garment, wrapped it around twice, and tied it tightly over the upper part of his poisoned wound.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic…”

Working with deliberate care, she forced herself to remain calm. She was sure Wei Jing had known he’d been poisoned long ago—just by how he had adjusted the way he was holding himself.

For someone so skilled, even though he was aware of the poisoning, he had managed to run for some time after losing their pursuers before finally stopping. He must have had a method to limit the poison to his arm.

Judging by how slowly the gray-black discoloration was spreading on his arm, it was evident that he’d succeeded. It had to be so!

Shao Qing tightened the cloth strip by tying a knot, then hastily got to her feet and dragged him toward the creek. His muscular, tall frame was even heavier than she had imagined; over even a short distance, she gritted her teeth to be able to drag him.

She continued dragging him until his arm could be immersed in the creek water. Then, she picked up her sword and made two deliberate slashes along the wound.

Shao Qing was not a medical student and had little interest in medicine, but her grandfather had once been an experienced traditional Chinese doctor. Having often visited him, she had absorbed enough basic knowledge—such as first aid measures for a venomous snake bite—to be useful in emergencies.

When she cut open the cross-shaped wound, the dark brown, nearly black venomous blood surged out immediately. Without hesitation, she pressed Wei Jing’s arm into the gushing creek and squeezed it firmly.

After compressing for a while, the venomous blood slowly subsided. When she lifted his arm to examine it, she saw that the gray-black stain had lightened.

Overjoyed, Shao Qing continued with the same procedure.

At last, after those four or five cross-shaped wounds had turned pale, the blood squeezed out decreased and reverted to a rich red, and the poisonous discoloration faded to nearly invisible, she finally stopped, panting heavily. She then reached out to check Wei Jing’s pulse and breathing. They were still a bit rapid and weak—no better than before, but not worse. This, she thought, should be a good sign.

Only then did her wildly pounding heart begin to calm. She had done all she could; the rest, she decided, was up to fate. Barely staying upright, she tapped the low bushes nearby with her sword. When she saw that no snakes or insects had been disturbed, she immediately collapsed onto the ground. After a series of heart-stopping, urgent rescue measures, the moment her adrenaline subsided even slightly, she felt herself beginning to falter.

After catching her breath, Shao Qing closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again. Looking up, she saw dark clouds rolling in across the sky, drifting steadily from east to west. She worried that it might rain again. Meanwhile, Wei Jing’s condition remained uncertain—who knew when he might wake up, or even if he would wake at all?

What should she do?

Anxious thoughts raced through her mind. More than twenty assassins were still combing the area, and she remembered the leader’s unmistakable command: We must catch up!

After struggling so hard to escape, if they managed to catch him and silence him, she would never rest in peace—even in death.

Run?

By all accounts, she had saved Wei Jing, and he had, in return, saved her. She had done everything in her power to administer emergency first aid after his poisoning—an act of utmost loyalty and duty. Now, neither of them could claim to be free of debt.

But if she were to run, where could she go? At best, she could roughly determine the cardinal directions from the slivers of sunset not entirely obscured by the clouds. Beyond that, the vastness of the mountains and forests was unfathomable; she had no idea how far she’d have to travel.

In these dense woodlands, venomous insects and ferocious beasts were every bit as much of a threat as the assassins in black. Even staying in this relatively “safe” spot chosen by Wei Jing wouldn’t allow her to let down her guard.

Sigh.

Irritated and restless, Shao Qing pushed herself up. “Maybe I should wait a little longer—see how Wei Jing fares tomorrow. What if he wakes up? Now that it’s nearly dark, where could we even go?”

She reasoned that as soon as he awoke, one man was worth a hundred of her. Yes—she resolved, that was the plan.

With determination, Shao Qing righted herself and shuffled a little upstream. She quickly fumbled to remove her shoes and socks, intent on cleaning the bloodstains clinging to the soles of her feet.

Her delicate, jade-like feet—befitting a refined young lady of noble birth—had clearly suffered greatly. Blisters had formed, burst, then reformed and burst again; her entire foot was a vivid red. The mingling of blood and coarse cloth from her socks made every step agonizing. Yet, thanks to her remarkable perseverance, she had endured this torment thus far.

As she grimaced and tugged at her socks, she glanced at the water’s surface—and suddenly, she froze.

There, a large boulder obstructed the flow. With the gentle ripples in the water, a reflection emerged: the lovely face of a young woman. Fine, willow-like eyebrows arched gracefully above eyes reminiscent of delicate apricots, accompanied by an exquisitely sculpted nose and cherry lips. Even her tousled hair couldn’t hide the elegant curve of her jaw, and though her features were smudged with dirt under the hazy twilight and reflected imperfectly in the water’s surface, one could still make out the glistening moisture that seemed to sparkle within her eyes.

What a stunning beauty she was—graceful, gentle, and exquisitely refined, as if she had stepped right out of a classical portrait of an elegant court lady. After all, this was the very type of beauty personally approved by Empress Fu. Surely, it couldn’t be less than perfect for her beloved young son.

A bitter laugh welled up inside Shao Qing. If this were a palace intrigue drama, her looks would have been a priceless asset. But the cruel irony was that she was nothing more than an exiled convict now—such beauty would only spell disaster for her future survival.

She sighed deeply. In these past few days, just by observing her own slender, delicate fingers and her feet—which, although streaked with blood, still retained their graceful charm—she had already steeled herself for this harsh reality.

Alas, who would have thought that one day she’d be cursed for being too beautiful?

But Shao Qing couldn’t afford to dwell on such bitter thoughts. The night was falling, and the mountain breeze carried a hint of moisture. It looked like a heavy rain would return before long. She had to hurry and clean the wounds on her body and Wei Jing’s, then try to find shelter from the rain. She dared not stray too far—the spot she was in had been chosen by Wei Jing. Beyond its bounds, she had no way to gauge the level of safety.

Birds and small animals were also busy seeking shelter from the rain. A pheasant flew down from a branch and darted into a thatched thicket at the foot of a steep slope, its height nearly that of a person.

Shao Qing’s eyes lit up. She quickly grabbed her sword, brushed aside the bushes, and followed in.

Sure enough, inside was a concave hollow about two feet deep and as tall as a person. Rocks even jutted out from the top, providing enough space for three people to rest. The pheasant had built a nest there—with about a dozen glistening white eggs inside.

Overjoyed, she thoughts: A place to wait out the rain overnight—and dinner is ready too!

The pheasant startled and flew away, and Shao Qing hurriedly turned back.

When she returned to Wei Jing’s side, she encountered a difficulty. He was very tall—his body, honed by years of martial practice, was strong and solid. Even dragging him for a short distance pushed her to her limits; it was simply impossible to help him into the hollow.

After several unsuccessful attempts—and as dark clouds rolled in and the sky grew ever gloomier—given his severe injuries and ongoing poisoning, it was best that he not be exposed to any more rain.

Resolute as ever, Shao Qing gritted her teeth. Holding her sword, she selected some relatively straight branches and hacked them down. Using vines as rope, she fashioned a makeshift stretcher.

Exerting all the strength she could muster—as if using the might of nine oxen and two tigers—she rolled him and pushed him onto the stretcher. Since one person alone couldn’t lift him, she tied one end of the vine around his head, lashing it tightly over his shoulders, and then dragged him with all her might.

Her feet ached terribly. The freshly washed wounds on her soles quickly became damp again, and the vine—still smelling fresh with the scent of vegetation—bit deeply into the skin of her shoulders and down to her ribs.

The hollow was approximately thirty to forty meters away. Step by painstaking step, Shao Qing dragged herself forward. Finally, she used her sword to beat at the thatched undergrowth in measured steps, clearing a path so she could pull Wei Jing in—and then she dragged him into a slightly higher section of the hollow.

After tossing aside the vine, Shao Qing leaned heavily against the rocky wall, panting. Once she had caught her breath for a while, she quickly bent over to pull Wei Jing down.

The hollow was shallow; the stretcher went straight in, leaving Wei Jing’s lower body still outside. With wild gusts of wind and an impending mountain downpour, she had to hurry to get him fully inside, lest all her efforts be for nothing.

She was desperate—Wei Jing was heavy, and the stretcher was slanted. One misstep in coordination could make him roll or fall in.

Abruptly, Shao Qing knelt hard on the ground. The pain was so intense that she couldn’t cry out; her knees felt as though they were about to shatter. Oh my.

“Ugh.”

Yet, with that fall, Wei Jing suddenly reacted. Overjoyed, Shao Qing rushed over, helped him upright, and repeatedly asked, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt in the fall? You know you’re poisoned, right? Are you alright?”

She peppered him with questions, but Wei Jing’s eyes stayed firmly closed and he offered no reply. In truth, he wasn’t conscious yet—his body was merely registering reflex reactions.

First disappointed, then delighted, Shao Qing realized that even a reaction meant improvement. After all, at the very beginning, he had collapsed stiffly on the ground with no sign of movement at all. She checked his carotid pulse and breathing; indeed, both now felt more regular and stronger, not as hurried and chaotic as before.

Revived in spirit, and taking advantage of the brief lull before the rain returned, Shao Qing hurried outside to cut back a clump of herbs she had just noticed. The common weeds found everywhere in this rural forest have properties that help stop bleeding and reduce inflammation. She used to find her grandfather’s nagging about them boring, but now she actually put them to use. There are also a few specimens of ‘banbian lian,’ which are effective against snake venom.

A thunderclap boomed on the horizon, and moments later, rain began pouring down in torrents. Shao Qing hurriedly brushed aside the thatch and dashed back to the hollow.

This heavy rain was a blessing—Shao Qing felt relieved that it washed away the metallic scent of blood and erased the tracks they had left behind. Even if the enemy were to search in the rain, their efficiency would be greatly diminished. She hoped they would be safe tonight and Wei Jing would wake up soon. She untied the small bundle she still clung to and took out a battered little bowl. First, she crushed the herbs she had gathered and applied them to Wei Jing’s wounds; then, she tore the remaining bundle into strips to use as bandages.

She also applied a bit to her own poor feet and the deep bruises on her shoulders. Once that was done, she didn’t even worry that the eggs were raw—she cracked one open and downed it in large gulps, which finally soothed her grumbling stomach.

Wei Jing was given some egg liquid as well. Not caring whether he was considered a war god or not, Shao Qing pinched his nose to force his mouth open, then clasped his chin and poured the egg liquid down his throat, managing to feed him somehow.

“Sigh… After all I’ve struggled for, you’d better show some spirit. You must wake up before dawn tomorrow!”

Exhausted beyond measure, Shao Qing’s feet and shoulders throbbed as if pricked by needles after catching her breath. Even if she wanted to stand guard through the night, she was too weak. With that, she released her grip on Wei Jing’s chin and collapsed onto the ground, closing her eyes.