Long Yunxiao hastily grabbed the edge of the table, his tall frame nearly toppling over.

But very quickly, that feeling of weakness was replaced by a scorching heat radiating outward from within his body.

He steadied himself and sat down in the chair, reaching up to touch his face — it was burning hot. He turned to look at Yan Qing, and saw that her small, palm-sized face was flushed with an unnatural redness, both hands clutching at her collar as though she were about to pull it open.

If Long Yunxiao still didn’t understand what was happening after all this, he would have lived his twenty-some years in vain.

He rose and walked to the bedside, pressing his hand over Yan Qing’s. “Yan Qing.”

The moment the words left his lips, he realized his voice was hoarse, laden with deep desire.

He turned to look at the two sachets on the table, understanding immediately where the problem lay.

Zhang Sao truly lived up to being from a family of spice merchants. The sachet she had made was so skillfully crafted that even Yan Qing hadn’t detected it.

It seemed Zhang Sao had never trusted them from the start — she had only wanted to flee, which is why she had voluntarily offered the sachets.

Suddenly, Long Yunxiao felt heat under his hand. He had touched Yan Qing’s hand, and both her face and hands radiated a burning temperature, as though she were in the grip of a serious illness.

Long Yunxiao knew he was no gentleman. At this moment, he could have done whatever he wished with her — and even if she came to her senses afterward, all blame could be shifted onto those two sachets, allowing him to possess the person he had longed for day and night.

Even just one night of tenderness, even just a fleeting possession…

“Yan Qing.” Long Yunxiao’s throat felt as though it were on fire, his body no longer under his control. At that moment, only one thought remained in his mind.

He wanted her. Regardless of consequences, regardless of the future — he only wanted her.

He gripped her hand tightly, keeping her from moving, while the desire in his eyes grew harder and harder to suppress.

“Yan Qing.” Long Yunxiao’s gaze darkened. “I’m sorry.”

With that, he drew a dagger from his waist and drove the sharp blade hard into his own arm. Vivid red blood welled up from beneath the blade.

The searing pain restored a thread of clarity to Long Yunxiao’s mind. He tossed the knife aside and bent down to lift Yan Qing up from the bed.

When he had first entered, he had noticed a large water vat in the courtyard. By now, a thin layer of ice crystals had formed on the water’s surface.

Long Yunxiao strode to the vat and murmured softly to the person in his arms: “Yan Qing, bear with it for a moment.”

Then he plunged Yan Qing’s face into the ice-cold water.

The bone-piercing chill brought Yan Qing back to consciousness in an instant. Instinctively she struggled, desperate to escape the icy, suffocating sensation — but a pair of arms held her firmly, leaving her no way to break free.

Only after she had struggled for a moment did Long Yunxiao release his grip.

Yan Qing’s hair was now completely soaked through, wet strands clinging one by one to her face, which had turned bluish with cold. Her pale lips trembled without ceasing.

Long Yunxiao’s heart ached. He quickly carried her back into the room, set her down on the bed, and pulled the quilt tightly around her.

Then he himself strode back into the courtyard and, without a moment’s hesitation, plunged his own head into the ice-cold vat.

Wrapped in the worn cotton quilt, Yan Qing shivered and shook with cold — yet the strange sensation from before had faded considerably, and her mind had mostly returned to clarity.

Since coming to Huxi Town, Yan Qing had encountered all manner of spices and sachets at every turn, and Zhang Sao had formerly worked for the Chen family, so it was not surprising that she knew how to make sachets. What she had not expected was that Zhang Sao would give sachets laced with a potent stimulant drug to both her and Long Yunxiao. This drug had almost no detectable scent — it was nearly impossible to notice by smell alone — and since she had not been on guard, she had fallen right into the trap.

This drug was extremely potent. Without timely treatment, the only way to dispel its effects was through intimacy between a man and a woman.

And here, there was only her and Long Yunxiao — clearly Long Yunxiao had been affected as well.

As Yan Qing trembled with cold, she saw Long Yunxiao come through the door, his entire body soaked through with cold water. Moreover, his left arm was a deep crimson, blood seeping through layer after layer of fabric.

There was a visible tear in his sleeve — the mark of a sharp implement piercing through.

Yan Qing had initially assumed Zhang Sao had wounded him, but the injury was on the inner forearm — a spot that would be very difficult for another person to reach.

Long Yunxiao had found a towel from somewhere. It had been washed so many times it had gone pale and worn, and still carried a faint smell of mildew.

“Dry your hair,” Long Yunxiao said, holding the towel out to her. “What just happened was unavoidable. I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

Yan Qing shook her head. Looking at the wound on his arm, she felt her eyes grow wet without meaning to. When she looked up, her gaze met Long Yunxiao’s directly — those eyes of his were beautiful, deep and unfathomable.

“It’s all right now.” Long Yunxiao sat down in the chair across from her and said softly, “Nothing will happen.”

“Mm.” Yan Qing nodded. “Thank you, Long Yunxiao.”

“What are you thanking me for? For not taking advantage of you while I had the chance?”

Yan Qing was amused into a laugh — hair still dripping wet, face pale and drawn, the smile looked a little forlorn.

“Your wound needs to be bandaged,” Yan Qing said with concern.

“It’s nothing — just a little knife wound,” Long Yunxiao said dismissively. “A minor injury.”

“People like you have no sense of responsibility toward yourselves.” Yan Qing thought of Shi Ting, who was exactly the same — no matter what injury he sustained, it was always “just a minor wound.” Perhaps in their eyes such injuries truly were trivial, but to those who cared about them, that kind of dismissiveness was enough to make one furious.

Long Yunxiao hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from her. Feeling a little bewildered and somewhat wronged, he said: “You know what I do for a living — fighting and killing is perfectly normal. Never mind just an arm wound.”

He pointed toward his chest. “At one point, someone drove a knife into me right here — the blade was only an inch from my heart. Fortunately I was tough enough to survive and keep my life. My body has more cuts and scars than I can count. One more won’t make any difference.”

“No matter how many wounds you carry on your body, I am half a physician — I cannot stand by and watch,” said Yan Qing, her tone grave. Long Yunxiao was taken aback by her severity, yet beneath the strictness he felt the warmth of being cared for.

Something in his chest softened, as though wrapped in layer upon layer of warmth. Even the voice that left his lips carried a thread of tenderness: “It’s been a very long time since anyone worried about me like this.”

Yan Qing thought of the life he led, with blood and blades at every turn, with the one family member he had drifting away from him — how moved he could be by a single word of concern.

And the wound he now bore was a wound he had inflicted on himself for her sake. Had he not been helping her track down Qian Lan’s origins all this way, it would never have come to this…

“Yan Qing, you don’t need to pity me.” Long Yunxiao seemed to read her thoughts. “And you don’t need to feel guilt or pressure either. I helped you of my own free will.”

He extended his arm toward her as he spoke: “Would the honored Dr. Yan kindly help with the bandaging? The blood seems to be flowing without stopping.”

Yan Qing quickly tore two strips of cloth from the bed sheet. When she turned his sleeve up, the wound — which had been soaked in ice-cold water — looked especially raw and ugly.

“The place you stabbed has a dense network of blood vessels, which is why it keeps bleeding,” Yan Qing said as she bandaged it. “Just stopping the blood isn’t enough — it will need to be sutured and treated with medicine.”

“All right,” said Long Yunxiao, and this time he was docile and obedient.

“It’s a pity that Zhang Sao got away. She deliberately stalled for time to give herself a chance to escape.” Yan Qing sighed. “I was careless.”

“She won’t get far,” Long Yunxiao said. “Hei She and the others are outside.”

“Hei She and the others are here?” Yan Qing was surprised.

Long Yunxiao nodded. “He left people stationed outside precisely as a precaution against any improper moves from Zhang Sao. They didn’t come in because they were afraid too many people would frighten her into silence.”

“I see.” The words had barely left Yan Qing’s lips when Hei She’s voice drifted in from outside.

“Mr. Long, the person has been caught.”

Yan Qing tilted her head to look outside, and sure enough, she saw one of Hei She’s men escorting a captive — and that captive was none other than Zhang Sao.

“Let’s question her right here,” Long Yunxiao said.

“Since she’s already in custody, let’s go back to the inn first and tend to your wound. If we wait too long to clean it, it could become infected.”

Long Yunxiao knew there was no point in arguing with her, so he agreed.

Back at the inn, Yan Qing sent Hei She to purchase medicine. Huxi Town had a thriving economy, and the pharmacy stocked everything one could need.

Among the medicines Hei She brought back was a local anesthetic.

Yan Qing debrided and disinfected Long Yunxiao’s wound, then picked up a syringe to inject the anesthetic.

“That won’t be necessary,” Long Yunxiao said. “Having anesthetic for a few stitches — that’d be embarrassing if word got out.”

Yan Qing rolled her eyes. “The spot where you’re wounded is similar to Di Huai’s. Di Huai refused anesthetic too, and nearly passed out from the pain. Are you sure?”

“If Di Huai could endure it, why can’t I?” Long Yunxiao casually picked up a piece of gauze and bit down on it. “Go ahead and stitch.”

Long Yunxiao insisted on no anesthetic, and Yan Qing didn’t press the matter. While anesthetic could ease the pain, wounds stitched without it typically healed faster with fewer after-effects.

Fortunately the wound only required three stitches — for Long Yunxiao, that was child’s play.

Long Yunxiao lowered his head, watching Yan Qing carefully bandage his wound. From his angle, he had a clear view of the top of her head, her hair a deep, lustrous black.

Because she had been submerged in cold water earlier, her hair was still half-wet, a little disheveled.

He shook his head hard, forcing away the images crowding his mind.

“Done,” said Yan Qing, securing the gauze. “Change the dressing regularly — there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

Long Yunxiao lifted his arm and said thank you.

“Let’s go see Zhang Sao now.” Yan Qing was impatient to get on with it.

“Go take a hot bath and change your clothes first,” Long Yunxiao said. “She’s in our hands — she’s not going anywhere. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m worried Zhang Sao might take her own life.”

“Don’t worry. With Hei She there, she won’t be able to die even if she wants to.”

When Yan Qing saw Zhang Sao again, she still wore the same cold, blank expression. Her eyes were dry and vacant, as though nothing in the world could touch her.

“Zhang Sao, why did you drug us?” Yan Qing sat down across from her, her gaze clear and steady. “We have no grudge against you. Why would you do this?”